Hellhole Inferno (60 page)

“There are plenty of possibilities in the Deep Zone now,” Walfor said, “unlimited opportunities.”

They raced across the Hellhole landscape, finally arriving at the Ankor spaceport, which was up and functioning again. Repairs had been made quickly so that ships could launch and land once more. Downboxes full of emergency supplies were being distributed to the settlements.

Tanja watched the process as Walfor flew in, looking for a spot to land on the crowded paved areas. The slickwater pools around the perimeter had receded, leaving dry and stable ground.

Tanja narrowed her gaze, nodded. “Opportunities,” she said. “Plenty of opportunities.”

*   *   *

When Adolphus paused to think about the meeting, he could hardly believe it was taking place at all. Elba had played host to his grand conspiracy when a group of rebels first envisioned the independent Deep Zone stringline network as a way to achieve independence from the Constellation. Now, in the same room inside the headquarters mansion, Adolphus sat across from Commodore Percival Hallholme—the man who, for much of his life, had been his greatest nemesis. Yet, at the moment, Adolphus knew the Commodore was one of his staunchest allies.

The meeting included Keana Duchenet, a woman who had once been a gadfly, naïve and unpleasant … and who had single-handedly wrested the planet away from destruction. She, too, was his ally. And of course, Sophie; the General never had any doubts about her.

Percival Hallholme wore his formal Constellation uniform, a chest full of medals, his cap, his polished boots. The old man seemed to carry a gravitas about him. His aide, Duff Adkins, accompanied him, as well as the Commodore's son, which caused Sophie some consternation. But Escobar Hallholme deferred to his father.

All across the planet, numerous Constellation ships were coming down to pick up the military prisoners who had been released from the camp, although after being exposed to slickwater, all those soldiers had developed an intimate connection to this challenging world. Many of them were reluctant to leave—especially now that they knew the truly bloodthirsty nature of the new Diadem Riomini.

The awkward tension in the meeting chamber reminded Adolphus of the humiliating surrender ceremony he had been forced to endure years ago, but this was different. Facing him across the conference room table, the Commodore said, “General Adolphus, now it's my turn—I need your help. We all need your help.”

“I'm listening,” Adolphus said.

“I mean the Constellation … which, I suppose, is now comprised of just the twenty Crown Jewel planets.” He cleared his throat. “Because I refuse to follow the orders of Diadem Riomini, no doubt he will devote all his resources to making a counterstrike against us. He still controls a large military force that he created in secret. He gave me command of some of the warships, but retained many for himself for Crown Jewels security. He'll keep pressing and probing, trying to find ways to destroy us. He hates you, General Adolphus, and I presume that after what I've done he will hate me just as much.”

Keana nodded. “My mother was a monster, and Selik Riomini is no better.”

Adolphus said, “I doubt if any peace talks will change his mind, no matter how much leverage we wield.”

Commodore Hallholme shook his head. “It's not just the Diadem we need to change. It's the Constellation itself. You can't expect a garden to thrive if the soil is poisoned.”

Adolphus leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “I agree, the Crown Jewels are corrupt to the core—I've known that since I started my first rebellion. Are you suggesting we get rid of Diadem Riomini and put someone more acceptable in his place?” He arched his eyebrows. “Someone like you, perhaps? Or your son?”

The Commodore raised his hands. “Not me, by God! I retired years ago, and was only dragged back into active duty by force.”

“And that wouldn't be for me either,” Escobar said. “I've never been interested in anything but a military career.”

Adolphus felt weary at the prospect of another lengthy rebellion, a clash of Deep Zone worlds against entrenched Crown Jewel planets. “We need to make fundamental changes at the heart of the Constellation, not just prop up another leader who comes from the same political system.”

“But so much is different now,” Sophie pointed out. “Maybe the time is right, if we work together.”

Assessing the resources available to him, Adolphus said, “We have my DZDF, combined with the Commodore's fleet. Together, we should be superior to any military force the Constellation still has. But we need to strike quickly, before they can build their fleet.”

The very idea of General Tiber Adolphus and Commodore Percival Hallholme united against a corrupt system, fighting side by side, was inspiring.

“No matter what forces Riomini has, I think we still have the advantage,” Percival said.

“The Ro-Xayans are with us, too,” Adolphus said. “Unlike the Xayan converts, they still have powers of telemancy.”

Commodore Hallholme rose to his feet and took the General's hand in a firm, tight grip.

“We'll set up the task force,” General Adolphus said. “We have a lot of damage to undo at Sonjeera.”

 

82

Well past midnight, feeling oddly alone and unsettled on Sonjeera, Diadem Riomini went to the dark and cavernous Council chamber, where he paced back and forth by the Star Throne. He looked at the great chair with its inset constellations of priceless jewels, touched it, sat on it, even kicked the damned thing—just because he could.

That should have given him satisfaction, but no one was here to witness his power. He'd heard no report from Commodore Hallholme long past the time when the old warhorse should have secured his victory against the rebel General. In a dangerous gamble, but for a victory worth winning, the veteran commander had taken a substantial portion of the Black Lord's private military force. It was inconceivable that he had failed again.

Many of the Crown Jewels had disliked Diadem Michella so intensely that their populations, were happy, even relieved, when Riomini showed a strong hand and took over the leadership. But that damned Adolphus had planted the idea of
independence
even here in the Crown Jewels, not just in the frontier worlds. Many nobles were suggesting a fundamental change of government structure, and he couldn't squelch the talk everywhere. He was going to need another powerful fleet just to maintain order here … and didn't have enough ships.

Worse, he had just received a grim report from Vielinger, an assessment of the valuable mines there. Although the iperion excavation facilities had been repaired and production restored, the available veins of the rare substance were shockingly low. The situation was far worse than previously thought. Even in a best-case projection, supplies of iperion would last only a few more years.

And without iperion the stringline routes would dissipate and fray, leaving the network connecting the twenty Crown Jewels to unravel, connected only by much slower space travel—which would render them impossible to govern centrally.

And the Deep Zone would be even farther away, effectively out of reach.

Adding to the debacle, the mine supervisor's confidential report had somehow leaked and spread throughout the ranks of nobles, increasing the unrest further. Like wolves, they could smell blood, sensing that the Constellation was falling apart, and no amount of effort—or military action from Riomini—would hold it together.

He stood in the silent, shadowy hall, pondering. The Star Throne had always looked like a glorious fixture in the chamber, but now he saw it as a mere prop. Though he'd wanted the role so badly, he felt trapped by everything that throne represented, held hostage as much as the General held Michella Duchenet hostage. He felt like taking a cudgel and smashing the chair apart, though that would be a useless gesture.

Unable to sleep in his lavish palace apartments—completely refurbished from when Michella had lived there—he'd crept into the Council chamber in his nightclothes and silk slippers, to think. Two black-uniformed guards had made a security sweep of the empty chamber, then allowed him inside. When they were satisfied that no assassins were lurking in the shadows of the posh seats, they stationed themselves at the outer doors, so he could be alone. Riomini envied them their comparatively simple life.

Every day, advisers brought him reports of dissension and fractures in the Crown Jewels. Just yesterday, emboldened nobles from Tanine and Patel had demanded the right to construct their own stringline hubs, calling the Sonjeera monopoly “a dangerous bottleneck.” Not so long ago, Riomini had made the same demand of Diadem Michella, but she had rejected it. Now, he had done the same thing, but his spies reported evidence that the nobles might be building the hubs anyway, in secret. Where did they think they would get the iperion to make those new routes feasible?

He suspected many of the complainers were Adolphus loyalists. He imagined seeing rebel supporters everywhere, and had increased efforts to root them out. In just the past week, he'd put out arrest warrants on thousands of people, and the prisons were overcrowded. Before long he would have to announce mass executions, just to cull out the worst offenders and ease the overcrowding of those prisons.

The rest of his ships from the once-secret Qiorfu fleet were stretched thin putting out brushfire uprisings around the Crown Jewels. In the most recent uprisings against him, three leading noblemen—three!—had mounted military forces against the rightful Diadem. Simply keeping such people in line was costing Riomini too much time and treasure. Sonjeera was not as well-protected as he would have liked, nor were his personal planetary holdings of Aeroc, Vielinger, and Qiorfu.…

Deeply troubled, he let himself slump into the great, glittering throne, which was not at all comfortable. With the chamber lights low, he stared at the ornate ceiling with its frescoes and gilded highlights, showing the original twenty Crown Jewels, and—more recent additions—sphere-topped pylons with engraved names, marking each of the fifty-four Deep Zone planets annexed into the Constellation. Now, those markers only served to remind him of what he did
not
rule.

Exhausted, Riomini found himself curling up on the throne, placing a pillow on an armrest for his head. He had suffered insomnia for days, but maybe he could sleep here.…

He felt an urgent hand on his arm, shaking him, and the strident voice of Anson Tebias. “Eminence!” The slender man was not his normal groomed self; the dark hair was unkempt and the clothes wrinkled, as if he had just thrown them on. Beside him, guard commander Rota Vindahl stood with a sheen of sweat on her forehead and a strange look in her eyes.

Riomini didn't want to hear it. “Go away.”

Vindahl stepped forward, implacable. “Sir, you must awaken! We are besieged.”

Flashes of explosions blossomed in the darkness outside the Council Hall. Glare washed through the segmented panes of the ceremonial windows.

So, the discontented nobles had made a move on Sonjeera after all! A surge of anger made his face hot. Whoever it was, he would sterilize their home planets, just as he'd done to Theser!

Tebias seemed sickened and disoriented. “Eminence, Commodore Hallholme has returned with the fleet.”

“Good! Have him crush this uprising.”

Tebias looked at Rota Vindahl, who did not hesitate to answer. “Sir, Commodore Hallholme is the one attacking us. And he is allied with General Tiber Adolphus. And … and there is more.”

Riomini felt a sinking sensation. This was not possible! He had to be dreaming, needed to escape from the nightmare. Shocked, he pressed himself back into the uncomfortable throne. “Go away. You take care of it.”

The main doors of the Council chamber burst open to reveal a throng in the doorway—soldiers in Constellation uniforms, citizens, nobles. He heard weapon fire outside, the roar of heavy ships landing in Heart Square. Just as it had been when he had taken over here after Michella Duchenet fled.…

Tebias sounded apologetic. “I'm sorry to say this, Eminence, but General Adolphus and Commodore Hallholme have demanded your immediate surrender.”

Riomini felt a clamor in his head, muffled by the impossibility of it all. “Nonsense. Bring me my robe of state, and I will speak with them. And close those doors so I can have some privacy.” He looked in embarrassment at his nightclothes. No … this simply couldn't be real.

At the towering doorway, Commodore Percival Hallholme came inside, his proud stride marred by his characteristic limp. The old warhorse wore his gold-and-black Constellation uniform—and behind him marched General Tiber Adolphus in a blue-and-gold rebel uniform. Soldiers wearing both uniforms, side by side, streamed into the chamber.

Adolphus had been shackled the last time he was dragged before the Star Throne. Now, he wore a ceremonial sword and a sidearm.

While Vindahl stood beside the throne, clearly ready to give her life to protect Riomini, Tebias rushed toward the intruders. He was quite agitated. “May I be allowed to retrieve one of Diadem Riomini's royal robes? For propriety?”

“He won't need anything like that,” said General Adolphus. “He's not going to be ruling anymore, and we won't require an extravagant surrender ceremony. They're overrated, in my opinion.”

Hallholme added, “It would be nothing more than a formality anyway. Lord Selik Riomini, you are hereby removed from the Star Throne, and the Constellation is freed from your tyrannical rule. You will stand trial for war crimes.”

Riomini saw black static around his vision, and his head pounded so hard that he feared blood vessels were about to burst. He felt disoriented, as if his mind were shutting down from too many impossibilities. “I am the Diadem of the Constellation! War crimes do not apply.”

“Specifically the annihilation of the free world of Theser,” said Adolphus.