Hellhole Inferno (19 page)

He had accomplished the seemingly impossible, a grand vision that few people would even have attempted. But the details and the second- and third-order consequences threatened to crush him.

Keana-Uroa, four other shadow-Xayans, and the Original alien, Lodo, joined him aboard the craft. Two seats needed to be removed in the passenger compartment in order to accommodate the alien's caterpillarlike undercarriage.

With the converts' continued concern about the possibility of a sudden and unexpected asteroid bombardment from the Ro-Xayans, the General had increased interplanetary surveillance to the extent of his technological capability. While traditional observation satellites scanned the vicinity, and DZDF scout ships patrolled the system, the Xayans claimed they could provide even better tools. Adolphus would take every advantage he could get.

Lodo had developed new extremely high-resolution sensor packages by cobbling together components taken from artifacts in the deep museum vault. The technology had been developed long ago, when the doomed Xayans had watched the first asteroid smash into the planet.

As the flyer landed outside the main spaceport operations, the alien peered out the side window. “Even from here, I can sense the deep slickwater reservoir that runs beneath the surface. It resonates with power and lives.”

Adolphus shook his head at the bad memory. “Upwelling slickwater has caused significant problems here already. The Ro-Xayan scout ships seemed particularly interested in this area when they flew overhead. I thought they were spying on our spaceport, but was slickwater the reason?”

Lodo spoke in his low, thrumming voice. “No, the other faction did not know about the existence of slickwater, but they remember this region from our golden age. Some of our most magnificent cities once stood here … and the Ro-Xayans destroyed them all. When I come back here, I feel only sadness to see that nothing remains of our glorious past … nothing but memories of long ago.”

Adolphus saw the tall launching structures of the spaceport, the expansive landing areas, the nearby mines and smelting operations. Although not nearly as glorious as an exotic alien city, they served his purpose—and under other circumstances they would have been his crowning achievement. But freedom was not easy, and the fight was far from over. As the General, he could use his military skills to fight against the Constellation, but how could anyone fend off an asteroid impact … or more than one? He had to find a way.

At the spaceport, cargo upboxes and passenger shuttles ascended to the main stringline hub in orbit, where they would be dispatched to other Deep Zone worlds. Several years ago, when he had built the stringline hub, he'd hidden it from the Diadem's inspectors. But now that the Constellation knew of its existence, the hub was a dangerous, but unavoidable, point of vulnerability. He kept the orbiting facility well guarded, but the recent unrest on Hossetea had made him disperse his limited number of DZDF peacekeeping ships, hoping that would quiet any grumbles from other dissatisfied planets.

Which left the Hellhole hub less defended than he would have liked. It was like a delicate game of juggling sharp objects.

After they disembarked at Ankor, Adolphus led the group toward the main building, where Rendo Theris waited to greet him. The jittery, overwhelmed spaceport administrator looked more nervous than usual. “As you requested, sir, we've cancelled all shuttle and upbox launches so that you can position the new Xayan satellites. Other ships are docked at the stringline hub, waiting for us to clear the operations, and the last downbox landed half an hour ago.” He shuffled his feet. “How long is this going to take? There's already a backlog in the schedule.”

“An hour should be more than enough time for us to complete the launch,” said Keana-Uroa.

Adolphus used a firm voice, reminding the man of the big picture. “You won't mind the delay, Mr. Theris, if these alien satellites spot an incoming asteroid.”

The administrator groaned. “Yes, I suppose a planetary evacuation
would
cause a lot more scheduling problems.” He looked around, glanced up at the sky. “Any sign of those mysterious ships? Are the Ro-Xayans still spying on us?”

Not long ago, the enemy aliens had sent swift ships that—they now knew—had seeded wilderness areas of the devastated planet with native but extinct life-forms. The General couldn't understand why the alien faction would restore all those life-forms if they simply intended to destroy Hellhole again. He didn't intend to let them do that.

“As we approach
ala'ru
, our enemy will no longer content themselves with mere observation,” Lodo said. “But with our satellites, we will be able to watch for
them
.”

He glided over to the flyer's cargo hatch, accompanied by the shadow-Xayans. They removed a large parcel, using telemancy to help them lift the package. They unwrapped the protective layers to reveal a smooth, silvery polyhedron.

A young man emerged from the headquarters building to join them, Cristoph de Carre, dressed in a work uniform. He smiled at Lodo. “So you decided to put some of the relics into service after all.”

Lodo's oversized eyes glistened. “I am pleased to find a use for them.”

Cristoph shook the General's hand, then looked awkwardly at Keana, clearly reminded of how—in her previous life—she had been responsible for the downfall of his family. But both he and Keana had changed greatly, and by nature the young man was inclined to be forgiving. He turned to the shadow-Xayans who busied themselves in silence. “Can I help?”

Lodo gazed up at the sky. “We have all the help we need.” The converts looked toward orbit, their humanoid eyes spiraling. The large parcel lifted from the ground to hover in the air by them, waiting.

“We can launch from right here,” Lodo said. “We do not need other equipment.”

The package opened by itself, and ten round white objects emerged to float in the air, while the shell dropped in pieces to the pavement. The white spheres spun to show the intricate tracery on the curved surfaces, like dense, folded snowflakes.

“With these, we can observe from all directions,” Lodo said. “Other shadow-Xayans can view through them simultaneously and keep watch.”

“They'll detect any threat from the Army of the Constellation as well?” Adolphus asked. “We have more enemies than just the Ro-Xayans.”

Keana-Uroa nodded. “Yes, General, but even my mother will be the least of our concerns if the Ro-Xayans come against us.”

Cristoph studied the glistening spheres. “They look too fragile to survive the stresses of a standard launch.”

Lodo sounded amused. “This is not a standard launch.”

The alien lifted his soft-fingered hands skyward, as did the shadow-Xayans. In smooth silence, with only the rushing sound of displaced air, the satellites streaked up through Hellhole's atmosphere, spreading out in different directions. Without engine exhaust or any chemical means of propulsion, they left no plumes trailing across the sky.

When the group of satellites had vanished high out of sight, the converts lowered their hands. From the flyer's open cargo hold, Lodo levitated a silver hemisphere, which sparkled and hung in front of his large alien eyes. Cristoph recognized it. “That's another item you removed from the vault.”

“It was necessary. I did not want to abandon items that might help us, no matter what Encix requested. That device will help them operate properly.” He peered into the curved surface. “Yes. All of our sensor probes have safely reached orbit.”

Rendo Theris still looked harried. “So … now can we get back to regular launches and landings? We've got commercial ships backed up at the stringline hub.” He seemed more flustered than was warranted, as he usually did.

Lodo gave a slow nod. “Yes. Everything is clear now.” They all headed toward the headquarters building, where they discussed how many shadow-Xayans would need to remain at Ankor to monitor the orbiting sensor probes. The General noticed that Lodo conversed often with Keana-Uroa, who was becoming the de facto leader of the converts.

Adolphus was interrupted by a priority communication from Sophie. She had sent the message directly to the spaceport, and she knew not to interrupt his mission unless it was extremely important. He immediately felt alert, ready to respond to whatever she needed. When he took the transmission, Sophie looked beautiful but grave on the screen. “Four prisoners escaped from the camp, Tiber. They're missing.”

He was alarmed, angry, and concerned. “Where the hell do they expect to go? How long have they been gone?”

“It happened two nights ago, but we just discovered it. They stole a Trakmaster and supplies, then drove off into the uncharted landscape.” She hesitated. “It was Escobar Hallholme, Bolton Crais, and two others.”

Feeling disturbed, Adolphus focused on the problem—Hallholme and Crais were the most valuable POW bargaining chips. “They can't hope to survive without preparations out there. I thought they were smarter than that.”

Her gray eyes flashed. “Redcom Hallholme does not seem to be a man who thinks about consequences. I knew he would cause more trouble.” Sophie had little respect for the man after he had broken his word during the surrender ceremony, which resulted in so many deaths. “We should have executed him for all the bloodshed he caused.”

He fought down his anger, knowing he had to deal with this crisis, which might have serious repercussions if he ever faced the Constellation military again. “I gave my word those soldiers would be kept safe, and unlike a Hallholme, I keep my word. It's the only way I will lead.”

Sophie looked disappointed in herself for the suggestion. Then she said, “Fools don't survive long on Hellhole.”

Keana interrupted, “Bolton is not a fool. He's acting out of honor.” Her pretty face was filled with concern. Despite their marital separation, it was obvious that she still cared about him.

Adolphus shook his head. “We have to track them down. If the Commodore's son dies—even from his own stupidity—the blame will still fall on me. I will not let that happen.”

“I sent out search teams,” Sophie said, “but these four don't want to be found. And it seems like a lot of trouble for a group of murderous fools.”

“We have to get them back before this planet kills them.” Adolphus needed the best person to lead the search. After signing off, he looked around the busy Ankor control center, and his gaze fell on Cristoph de Carre, who was chatting with Lodo. The General called him over.

“Mr. de Carre, I have a new assignment for you.”

 

25

For two days, Bolton had continued driving over the rough terrain, alert for pursuit, moving the Trakmaster mostly after dark, trying to remain hidden from observers. He didn't know how long it would take Sophie Vence to realize that prisoners had escaped—likely they were already being hunted down. He hoped Yimidi's makeshift camouflage system would hide them from searches.

Exhausted, lost, and stressed, Bolton had finally pulled the rig to rest near a set of lumpy rock protrusions. They seemed safe and sheltered for the time being, but still tense. He fell into a restless sleep.…

Out in the raw and unwelcoming Hellhole wilderness, Bolton awoke to sounds that were unlike the normal, fitful breathing he'd heard during the night. His three fellow escapees were still asleep inside the Trakmaster; Escobar slumped over in the front seat next to him, while the other two huddled in the back. Bolton rubbed his eyes, guessing by the low yellow illumination coming through the windows that it must be almost dawn. He couldn't see outside.

Something smelled bad, like decaying bodies and sour vegetation.

Now, while his companions slept fitfully in various uncomfortable positions, Bolton blinked groggily in the sickly light that filtered through the Trakmaster's windows. A low, whispering sound filled the cab, and he realized that the daylight had an eerie, unnatural cast—it seemed to be vibrating, squirming. To his horror, he realized that the windows and the vehicle itself were covered with thousands of finger-length larvae. Three of the imagers were dark, but the fourth showed a mass of larvae encrusting the Trakmaster, all of them spinning cocoons like hairy blisters attached to the walls.

Bolton shouted for the others to wake up, while he stared at the control screen, trying to get a view from the external cameras.

In back, Yimidi woke and started shouting, but his words were garbled by a long fit of coughing. Escobar and Vingh also scrambled awake, while Bolton tried to start the vehicle's engine, powering it up from the shutdown.

When the engine thrummed as Bolton tried to activate it, the outside noise of the larvae increased to a buzzing, skittering sound. Escobar pressed his face close to the window, trying to discern the myriad swarming creatures. “They're going into a frenzy.”

“They want to keep us from escaping,” Vingh said. “We have to move!”

Bolton kept working the controls, but the engine refused to start. Larvae must have infested the mechanical components as well. “We may have to abandon the vehicle.”

“And go outside?” Yimidi said in disbelief, then coughed so hard he doubled over.

“Is that worse than staying in here?” Vingh asked.

The four escapees ransacked the Trakmaster for anything they could use to defend themselves, found a repair torch, a flare launcher, and a projectile weapon, but Bolton couldn't guess how any of that would prove effective against so many squirming creatures.

“We can hole up, hope they go away,” said Yimidi.

“I don't want to stay trapped here. What if they nest around the Trakmaster?” Escobar asked. “Major Crais, get this vehicle moving!”

Bolton kept trying, but without success. “They may have ruined the engine, sir.” The unnerving scratching, squirming noise became so loud that it drowned out all conversation.