Hellhole Inferno (33 page)

Like a geyser ready to erupt, telemancy rose within Keana, a roiling overload of power that demanded to be released. Keana could barely control it. She remembered what Devon Vence had done in his outrage after his girlfriend Antonia had been shot. With a hammer of telemancy, he had crushed Gail Carrington, leaving only a smear of disassociated cells on a bulkhead.

Keana knew she could do that to her mother right now. She could pulverize the old woman's brittle bones, leaving the great Diadem Michella Duchenet nothing more than a heap of squashed, poisonous flesh. She could do that to Ishop, too.

But that wasn't what she wanted. She held on to Uroa inside her, tapped into his stability as well as the power he contained. Keana was wiser now, stronger—mature. Trickle by trickle, she felt the telemancy diminish. Uroa was there; the two of them were firm. When Keana had control over herself once more, she drew a deep breath, opened her eyes. She saw both Ishop and Michella looking worried about what they had almost provoked. They were staring at her eyes, which must have been spiraling wildly.

Keana decided that she wanted nothing more to do with her mother. The Diadem and the Constellation were irrelevant now. Keana had more important things to do. She needed to save Hellhole from the Ro-Xayans … and more significantly, she had to guide all of her people to
ala'ru
.

A flustered Sophie Vence appeared at the bungalow door. She ignored Michella and Ishop, focusing entirely on Keana. “Peter Herald told me you were here. Do you need my assistance, or should I just lock the door and leave you alone with them?”

“I had things to resolve, but I'm finished now,” Keana said. After the guards escorted Ishop back to his own bungalow, Keana gave the old woman a last glance while speaking to Sophie. “I wash my hands of my mother.”

Michella flew into a rage. “I don't want you back. Do you understand? I don't want you back. You're contam—”

Keana and Sophie sealed the door behind them, cutting off the old woman's vitriol.

 

42

Commodore Hallholme's tension had simmered into numbness. He was hamstrung here at Tehila.

By now, according to plan, the Constellation fleet should have taken over the Hellhole stringline hub and arrested General Adolphus. But plans often went awry.…

If Diadem Michella had just stayed on Sonjeera rather than flouncing her way into a complex military operation as if it were some kind of picnic, Percival would have delivered the whole Deep Zone for her to rule—for good or ill. Without doubt, the Diadem would have exacted severe reprisals upon the rebellious colony worlds, which gave Percival cause to reconsider. Was that really the best possible outcome? Who truly would have benefited from that? The Constellation? The Deep Zone? Anyone? Diadem Michella herself?

As he waited at Tehila orbit for repairs to be completed, and for new orders to arrive from the Council on Sonjeera, he killed time in his stateroom. It was hard to be enthusiastic when every possible decision was a bad one.

Though he had spent over an hour crafting it, the letter he had dispatched by emergency courier drone was a weak statement, barely masking his failure, but facts were facts. It did not matter that Michella should never have been part of the Tehila operation in the first place. He had failed to protect the Diadem of the Constellation. Michella Duchenet had been snatched out from under his nose. He could blame no one else for that.

No matter what, the Council would make him a scapegoat. Some noble would remind them all of Percival's recent defeat at the hands of General Adolphus. They would blame him for Escobar's failings as well, pointing out how his son's blunder had let much of the Constellation fleet fall into enemy hands. Percival had no choice but to accept responsibility for Escobar. The Commodore had trained him, much to his frustration.

After the Diadem had been kidnapped, Percival realized he should have managed the pursuit better, should have had guardian ships ready to intercept any vessel that tried to escape. In preparation for the mission launch, he had installed traditional patrols, increased security down at the Tehila spaceport, but his focus had been on the imminent departure. Under normal circumstances, any military tribunal would have agreed with his command decisions—until something went wrong. And with Michella Duchenet now held hostage by the General, something had indeed gone terribly wrong.

In shock, he had watched the Diadem destroy the Sonjeera spaceport without flinching because of some unverified alien threat, and then she had simply flown away with him to the Deep Zone. It seemed a cowardly, or at the very least a tone-deaf and oblivious act. Now Michella had been abducted and whisked away to the heart of enemy territory.

As a military officer, he knew his choices should be clear-cut. He simply could not allow the Deep Zone rebellion to succeed, but he also found it increasingly difficult to support the Diadem's repeated inflammatory decisions. He also knew the other Council members—especially her heir-apparent Lord Selik Riomini—and Percival wasn't certain that her successor would be any better than Michella Duchenet. Commodore Hallholme was no longer sure what he was fighting for.

He answered the chime at his stateroom door to find Duff Adkins with a report in his hands and a smile on his face. Percival had not seen the man smile much in recent months. “Good news for a change, Commodore.”

“You have me at a loss for words, Duff. What is it?”

“Repairs are completed on the sabotaged terminus ring. The integrity of the iperion line is intact, and we've been sending test flights out, ships heading to the edge of the solar system and back. The tests are going perfectly and are almost complete, so the fleet should be able to depart soon. If that is what you wish.”

“As soon as we get new orders from Sonjeera.”

Percival limped to his wardrobe locker and removed his uniform jacket, which Duff helped him put on. The old Commodore's muscles ached from the degenerative disease that he barely kept under control. Tension was known to accelerate the symptoms of the disease, and he'd had more than enough tension in recent months.

How he longed to be back on Qiorfu, experimenting with different blends of wine, playing with his two grandsons. At his age, after all he'd done, he should be telling war stories and exaggerating his bravery, not trying to make more legends about himself.

Duff carefully straightened the Commodore's collar, adjusted one of his medals. His aide seemed to know his troubled thoughts and provided his advice, as always. “With or without orders from Sonjeera, there really is no other decision, sir. You know it will be worse for you if you vacillate rather than act.”

“Yes, Duff. We will proceed with our mission, attempt to rescue Diadem Michella, and defeat our enemy, even though the General now knows we're coming.” He brushed down his muttonchop sideburns and emerged from his stateroom. “Just an average day at work for us.”

Upon reaching the bridge, the Commodore was pleased to receive successful reports from all the test flights. The damage to the terminus ring had been repaired and checked, and now all the fully armed military ships were reloaded aboard the two stringline haulers. At last, the fleet was ready. He sent an all-ship signal announcing departure in two hours.

Percival had monitored activity at the Tehila spaceport and at the old governmental mansion—with the Diadem gone, Administrator Reming had reassumed the role of interim planetary leadership. Percival didn't care about the local politics. He had established his military base here, but his original orders were to conquer Hellhole. It was not his place to worry about how the Constellation would govern the former rebel worlds once he did his job.

Reming transmitted an exuberant message to the flagship. “Commodore, I wish you the best of success! I pray that you are able to return Diadem Michella to us safe and sound.” His expression and tone of voice didn't match the enthusiasm that his words implied.

Then a speedy courier drone raced in along the stringline from Sonjeera, no doubt bearing the long-awaited message from the Council. Percival learned of this with a mixture of relief and disappointment, knowing that the new orders would surely tangle his carefully laid plans. He sighed at the added complication. If only his fleet had left an hour sooner …

He ordered the message brought to him immediately. Now, at least, he would know. If they angrily relieved him of command for letting Michella be taken, then so be it.

He carried the code-locked message file to his ready room just off the bridge, intending to review it in private, but then decided that he wanted Duff Adkins there with him. With the door sealed, he played the message. The two men watched Selik Riomini's image shimmer before them.

“Commodore Hallholme, I was alarmed to hear of your recent setback at Tehila, but before I present your revised orders, I must also inform you of changes that have occurred here in the Crown Jewels.” He sounded smug.

“After the devastating explosion at the Sonjeera spaceport, the Council of Nobles met in emergency session. By her own admission, Michella Duchenet caused that horrific event, at her direct order. Not only did she destroy a major portion of our spaceport, causing a severe strategic setback in time of war, but she also caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people, disrupted our economy, and then turned her back on the Crown Jewels. By unanimous acclamation, the Council removed Michella Duchenet from her position and installed me as the new Diadem.

“Michella Duchenet has been branded an outlaw. You are not to let her situation affect your mission in any way whatsoever. The fact that she is being held hostage by General Adolphus is of no consequence. Michella is no longer of any value to him as a bargaining chip. Our enemy must be made to understand that.

“I, Selik Riomini, am the rightful Diadem of the Constellation. These are my orders: If feasible, the criminal Michella Duchenet is to be brought back to Sonjeera for trial and punishment, but you are not to waste any time or expend any effort on rescue.

“Your original mission stands: Take your fleet, defeat the rebel General, and seize control of his stringline hub. You are ordered to kill Tiber Adolphus. If you had done that the first time, you would have saved us a great deal of trouble.” Riomini paused, and even in the recorded image his anger was palpable. “Afterward, as a punitive measure, I want you to raze his entire planet, wipe out the cities and settlements, leave its surface a burning blister, just as I did on Theser.” The Black Lord's face darkened, and his eyes seemed to stab directly into Percival's heart as he ended the message.

Hearing this, Adkins recoiled. “He can't possibly mean that.”

“I'm afraid he does, Duff. I hope, but do not expect, that his orders stop there. After we finish on planet Hallholme, he may well command us to devastate other Deep Zone worlds.” Percival's jaw ached from clenching it so hard.

After the projection faded, Percival was left staring at the vacant space. The Black Lord's disrespect rankled.
If you had done that the first time, you would have saved us a great deal of trouble.
Percival had grown to dislike Diadem Michella's leadership abilities, and now he thought he would like Diadem Riomini's administration even less.

Duff looked at him. “What are we going to do, sir?”

“We're going to planet Hallholme as planned—but cautiously. You can be sure the General will have a trick or two up his sleeve. He's had ample time to prepare for us.”

After reviewing Riomini's grim message one more time, the two men left the ready room and returned to the flagship's bridge—just as alarms began to sound.

“Inbound ships, Commodore!” cried the female tactical officer. “Two stringline haulers entering the system at extreme deceleration.”

A long-range sensor officer stared at his screen. “The haulers are shedding ships, sir—in full-scale attack mode! Can't determine who it is yet.”

Percival stared at the large bridge screen, trying to make out the tiny bright dots of incoming vessels. “We know who it is.”

He sounded battle stations, then prepared to face General Tiber Adolphus one last time.

 

43

During the stringline journey to Tehila, General Adolphus spent his time planning the operation in the greatest possible detail.

Working with Tanja Hu, Ian Walfor, Captain Naridar, and even Lodo, he mapped out the all-important first few moments of the imminent engagement. Once the stringline haulers dropped off the iperion path and hurtled into the Tehila system, they would have very little time to coordinate. Everything had to be precisely in sync.

Adolphus also met with the captains of the five civilian commercial transports that had volunteered their ships in service of the assault; he watched their expressions fall when he explained what he intended to do—an entirely unexpected maneuver only made possible by the presence of the shadow-Xayans. Telemancy changed the entire tactical landscape of the space battle.

Hearing the plan, the civilian captains were angry or nervous, yet every one of them agreed. Adolphus shook hands with each of them, thanking them for himself and for the Deep Zone. “I wouldn't ask this if it weren't absolutely necessary.” During the tense four-day stringline journey, the civilian captains had time to prepare their ships, strip out all possessions and keepsakes, and say good-bye to their craft.

Walfor had left his ship back on Hellhole when he and Tanja joined the fleet. Now he asked for the use of a small DZDF fighter. “I want to be in the middle of the action, General.”

“But you're not a military man, Mr. Walfor.”

“No, but I'm a damn good pilot—and if Tanja's going down to the surface to rile up the refugees, she'll need somebody to fly her there.”

Tanja looked determined as she stood on the
Jacob
's bridge. “We've already laid the groundwork, General, and I have my contacts down there. I can spark an uprising with a snap of my fingers.”