Hellhole: Awakening (31 page)

Michella’s face reddened despite the powder covering her cheeks and forehead; she didn’t seem to hear or care about the angry muttering in the hall that grew to a loud crescendo. “Go back and tell Adolphus to do it! Cut off your lifeline to civilization—and I hope you all wither and die out there!”

Now the voices were even louder. One of the lords, whom Goler knew as Tanik Hirdan, bellowed loudly enough to cut through the hubbub. “You cannot take such a precipitous stance, Eminence. The lords will vote you down.”

“I am the Diadem, and I will veto your vote,” she snapped back.

Lord Ilvar Crais stood up. A wheedling man who tried to be conciliatory, he always had his own interests foremost in his mind. “If the stringlines are destroyed out to the Deep Zone, it will take many years or decades to reestablish them, and at enormous expense.
If
we have enough iperion at all! We cannot allow such an irrevocable act unless there is a tangible and immediate threat to the Crown Jewel worlds.”

Lord Hirdan continued to bellow, “And if we did send trailblazer ships to establish a new stringline to replace the one that is damaged, what would stop the General from blowing up the terminus ring again? Are we to post guard forces in deep space? At what expense? If they want to cut us off, they can always cut us off. Don’t provoke them, Eminence!”

Goler stood listening to the debate, not needing to say anything else. After his bland career, it felt remarkable to be the fulcrum of such vital events. Finally, he said, “General Adolphus is expecting your reply. Shall I return to Hellhole and inform him that the Constellation agrees to a cooling-off period, with no further hostilities? If no further aggressive action occurs, we will open discussions about commercial treaties and the restoration of regular trade.”

Michella’s voice was filled with acid. “No, you may not take such an answer to the General. In fact, you will not give him an answer at all.” She sat back on the Star Throne and summoned her personal guards. “Arrest this man and return him to his cell in the Sonjeera prison.”

Goler barely heard the buzz of alarm from the Council as he protested, “Eminence, I am an official ambassador under diplomatic immunity.”

But the Diadem would not budge. “I don’t recognize any government in the Deep Zone. They are only rebels and traitors, and should be treated as such. And
you
are the worst form of traitor.”

The guards grasped Goler’s arms, and he didn’t struggle, because it would only make him look like a fool. As they escorted him away, he held his head high.

44

Lord Riomini’s attack ships returned from Theser in a great flurry, and he made no apologies for disrupting traffic at the main stringline hub. The two military haulers arrived, and his warships disengaged from their docking clamps so they could fly in around the capital planet in an impressive space parade. Even though the Black Lord made no triumphant announcement about his mission, rumors flew.

When all those ships appeared above Sonjeera, Percival Hallholme’s first assumption, and hope, was that some portion of his son’s fleet had made its way back home. But he quickly saw that these were not the ragtag scraps of a retreating battle force. Lord Riomini looked proud and victorious when he disembarked and took his bow. Now, at least, Percival would learn what the Black Lord had been doing on Theser.

Within the hour, Diadem Michella summoned the Commodore for a private meeting. Duff Adkins helped him dress in his faded old uniform again. His limp had worsened over the past several days, due to stress, and now the familiar outfit felt out of place with its stiff, uncomfortable fit. Since retiring on Qiorfu, Percival had grown accustomed to loose-fitting overalls while he worked in the vineyards or visited the taverns. The uniform matched his discomfort at being called back to duty.…

He donned his gold-and-black officer’s cap and gathered up the plan documents he had sketched out for his alternative move against Tiber Adolphus. Michella had demanded miracles from her Commodore, and it was his obligation to deliver them. Now he could also present his plan to Supreme Commander Riomini, who was a far more experienced tactician than the old Diadem, although he had blundered in his analysis of what must have happened to Escobar’s fleet.

Percival was escorted to a private war room, an echoing chamber with enough seats for thirty advisers and subcommanders, but the room was occupied by only Diadem Michella and Lord Selik Riomini, who sat at a long, mirrored conference table. When Percival walked in, fighting his limp, Riomini gave him a respectful smile. “Commodore Hallholme, I am delighted to see you back with the service. We need men of your caliber in the fight. I appreciate your insights.”

Percival spoke with clipped, formal words. “I have returned to service, sir, because my son is missing. When the Diadem called me back, how could I possibly refuse?”

“Indeed, indeed. Not to worry—we are well on our way to wrapping up this mess. I just struck a grand blow against Theser that puts the Deezee traitors in their places.” The Black Lord actually sounded a bit
shy
around him, as if in awe of the legendary hero. “Once General Adolphus learns you have joined the efforts against him, he’ll capitulate immediately!”

Percival removed his cap and took the seat the Diadem offered, on her immediate left. “I doubt that very much, sir.”

A refreshment platter was mounded high with enough fruit, pastries, and small sandwiches to feed a squadron. Neither the Diadem nor the Black Lord had touched any of the food. Percival wasn’t hungry either.

The projection screens on the walls were now gray and blank. The Diadem looked toward the screens, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. “Show us what you’ve done, Selik. Do you think Theser will be a sufficient warning to the rest of the rebels?”

“Definitely a warning, Eminence, and much more than a shot across their bow. Whether they’ll heed it…” He spread his hands on the shiny table. “They have been unreasonable before.”

The Diadem reached over to pat the Black Lord’s hand. “We’ll throw a grand celebration appropriate for your victory, and you’ll be feted throughout Sonjeera. I believe that’s what you were after?”

Riomini seemed satisfied. He smiled at the old Commodore. “I wanted to demonstrate that I am the most viable candidate to be the next Diadem.”

“
One
of the viable candidates,” Michella said.

Riomini activated the screens, and panoramic video images of destruction covered the walls of the war room. Even with Percival’s past war experience, the fiery obliteration numbed him: curls of smoke, burning homes, charred and contorted human bodies sprawled in macabre disarray.

Riomini spoke as if delivering an earnings report to a board of directors. “On the journey back from Theser, my media crew compiled these images, selecting only the highlights, but there’s much more if you’d like to see it.”

The Diadem glanced at Percival to gauge his interest. He quickly said, “I have the gist of what happened there. Was Theser given fair warning of the attack, a chance to capitulate? Did you issue them an ultimatum and demand their surrender?”

Riomini frowned. “That wasn’t the point, Commodore. The point was to demonstrate the cost of the Deep Zone’s continued defiance.”

“I see. And how does obliterating Theser help us reclaim my son’s lost fleet? It’s possible—even likely—that this violent act will merely escalate the conflict rather than resolve it. What if General Adolphus decides to retaliate?”

“Why, then you’ll stop him, Commodore,” the Diadem said. “Find a way to defeat that horrible man and retrieve our lost ships. That is the reason we brought you out of retirement.” She nodded slightly in deference. “If Lord Riomini and I could do it ourselves, we would have left you on Qiorfu.”

“I appreciate your confidence, Eminence.”

Michella folded her hands together on the table. “I’m anxious to hear your own plan, whatever it is, so we can move forward as soon as possible. I assume you’ve brought a presentation for us to review?”

The Commodore cleared his throat and spread his documents on the glistening table. The Diadem’s mention of Qiorfu made him wish he was back home. In a normal military career, even if he hadn’t retired, he could have become a highly paid administrator, managing a depot or a department. He could have entered politics, or he could have become second in command of the Army of the Constellation. He could have managed the Lubis Plain shipyards.

Instead, he had to be a hero again.

“Here is my suggestion.” He showed a full spiderweb map of the Sonjeera hub and all the radiating stringlines: one set extended from Sonjeera to the twenty close Crown Jewel worlds, while another set radiated from Sonjeera to the distant Deep Zone worlds. “We know that the direct iperion path to planet Hallholme has been severed, and presumably General Adolphus has captured or at least stranded our fleet. According to Governor Goler, the General booby-trapped all direct paths from Sonjeera to the Deep Zone and will blow them if he feels threatened. That sounds plausible.” He turned to Riomini but did not speak until he was sure he could control the frustration in his voice. “Given what just happened on Theser, I wouldn’t be surprised if he exercised that final option right away.”

On the network map, Percival drew his finger along the line to Ridgetop, another one to Candela, and took his time tracing the iperion path to Theser. “Once the substations are blown, we can’t reestablish those routes unless we lay down an entirely new iperion line, and we have neither the time nor sufficient iperion to do that. No, we must get to planet Hallholme by some other route.” He sat back, regarded his listeners. “One of the lines, however, is not shown on this map—and I propose we use that route to strike the rebels. A back door, so to speak.”

“Which line isn’t shown?” the Diadem asked. “How can our maps not be accurate?”

“
This
one.” Percival traced his finger across open space to a tiny dot, a remote and insignificant DZ planet. “This is Buktu. The route was decommissioned, but it
exists.
The stringline was abandoned in place years ago, on the Diadem’s orders, not destroyed.”

Michella said, “But that line hasn’t been maintained. No iperion path maintains its integrity for that long, not even if substations remain in place.”

“That’s what the conservative safety standards say.” Percival scratched his muttonchop whiskers. “But I’m convinced that the abandoned stringline could still be a viable option—although a risky one.”

Excitement tinged Lord Riomini’s voice. “We have to take risks. That’s the only way we’ll defeat the rebels.”

“But what do we gain by going to
Buktu
?” Michella frowned as she studied the map intently. “Who cares about a poor, out-of-the way planetoid? Even Theser was more significant.”

“It’s a
way in,
” Percival said. “I don’t propose an assault like what Lord Riomini did at Theser. We’ll overwhelm and capture the facilities, taking prisoners as a matter of course, but most importantly, we’ll capture the terminus ring. That would be my primary objective. Once we have access to the new DZ network, my assault force can travel directly—and unhindered—to planet Hallholme.”

He pulled out old historical records, ancient library texts from millennia ago, long-forgotten accounts from humanity’s origin. “General Adolphus is fascinated with primitive military history, and he clearly models himself on the ancient commander Napoleon Bonaparte of Earth.”

Michella and Riomini gave him blank stares. “No one remembers anything about ancient Earth,” the Black Lord said.

“In order to understand the enemy, I familiarized myself with the history of the period. In the century after Napoleon, I found records of an innovative military strategy used by Lieutenant Colonel T. E. Lawrence, who led a fighting force across a supposedly impassable desert to capture a strategic target called Aqaba. That city was undefended from the desert side, because they never dreamed an enemy could possibly approach from that direction.

“I propose to do the same here. Though the quantum path will be diffuse and likely damaged, and we’ll have to pick our way carefully by sending trailblazer scouts ahead to lay down additional iperion where necessary, I believe we might be able to make our way into the Deep Zone and strike General Adolphus from his undefended flank.
Buktu.
Getting there will likely take weeks rather than days, but we can do it.”

“There’s no longer any rush, Commodore.” The Diadem seemed energized, pleased at the idea. “So long as it works.”

“This is a military operation, fraught with uncertainty, but I will do my best to succeed.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Commodore.” Michella exchanged a glance with the Black Lord, then said, “Your plan is approved.”

45

Ian Walfor ran the remote Buktu industries, but he was also a restless man and left much of the day-to-day work to his deputy, Erik Anderlos. They had converted the operations on the frozen planetoid to building and refurbishing space vessels from a scrap yard of parts he had collected over the years. For a long time Walfor had also run slower black-market routes among the nearby DZ worlds, but now that the frontier planets were networked via stringline, the opportunities seemed limitless.

After leaving the General’s meeting on Hellhole, Walfor accompanied Tanja Hu to Candela—a pleasant world by any measure—and from there he met up with one of his fellow Buktu workers, Hume Keats, at Tanja’s new hub. Together, they would ride the direct line to Theser with a shipload of essential war equipment and supplies that Administrator Frankov had commissioned, as well as several new ships that required stardrives.

Even in these times of uncertainty, Walfor could see the potential of so many new trade agreements. First, he needed to find out why Frankov had not attended the emergency meeting. If something was wrong, General Adolphus needed to know about it.

Tanja gave him a quick kiss before she departed on the shuttle down to Candela, but she was gone in the passenger pod before he could make sure it hadn’t been an accident. Keats raised his eyebrows and had an amused expression; Walfor felt his face flush. He hurried his copilot aboard the waiting framework hauler from Buktu, which carried a dozen full-size ships due to receive stardrives.