Hellhole Inferno
Authors: Brian Herbert
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Jan, this is yet another book that I dedicate lovingly to you. In the years of our marriage you have blossomed in so many ways artistically, demonstrating a creative range that includes painting, sculpture, interior design, photography, and even great story ideas.
âBrian Herbert
To Louis and Louise Moesta, who supported their quirky son-in-law's work unfailingly for more than twenty years, told their friends, and showed their pride in so many ways.
âKevin J. Anderson
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Acknowledgments
Special appreciation from both of us to our agent, John Silbersack, Bess Cozby and Tom Doherty at Tor, editor Pat Lobrotto, narrator Scott Brick, Mary Thomson for transcribing all of Kevin's audio files, and especially Rebecca Moesta.
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Contents
By Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
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1
Three Constellation warships descended through a sky that was spider-webbed with vapor trails. Pilots guided the bristling vessels to the staging field at the Aeroc military complex, where they joined the numerous other warships already landed in formation. By now, Commodore Percival Hallholme had lost count of the new arrivals, each one with new armor and reinforced shielding, loaded with all the armaments the Diadem's government could muster.
As he assessed the massive preparations, Percival nodded to himself and muttered, “Putting everything on the line this time.”
After stinging defeats at the hands of rebellious Deep Zone planets, led by his nemesis General Tiber Adolphus, the Constellation was expanding the war. No hesitation, no reservations, no mercy.
And not much of a plan
, Percival thought, but he didn't express such reservations out loud. It would not be appropriate for the ostensible commander of the operation.
This influx of additional warshipsâall rounded up by Lord Selik Riominiâincreased the confidence among the Diadem's fighters, although Percival knew that the sheer quantity of ships would not guarantee a victory. He had faced General Adolphus before, numerous times, and in their last encounter at Hallholmeâa planet named after the Commodore and not-so-affectionately nicknamed “Hellhole” by the colonistsâPercival had suffered an embarrassing defeat, forced to retreat.
Now it was time for a rematch.
The Aeroc military yards were bustling. The upbeat victory tempo of “Strike Fast, Strike Hard!” rang out from widely distributed loudspeakers. The Commodore watched attack ships loaded with fresh, untrained recruits who had rushed to sign up after Diadem Michella saturated them with propaganda and fear. She painted Adolphus as a monster and a threat to human civilization itself, and worse, the rebel General had allied himself with a mysterious alien race that had the power to possess innocent victims, filling their minds with bizarre memory-lives.
The crisis was enough to inflame the populationâat least those who believed the Diadem's words and concurred with her fears. Many people were not so easily swayed. And Percival knew full well that the old woman's portrayal was not precisely accurate. Nevertheless, he was bound by his duty.
As he crossed the parade ground to the towering military headquarters building, he wore a crisp new uniform from the Army of the Constellation. It was more modern and stylish than the old uniform he'd worn during the General's first, failed rebellion fifteen years agoâback when Commodore Hallholme made his name as a hero. In historical images from those old battles, Percival had looked bright-eyed, optimistic ⦠and gullible.
Although he still sported the same distinctive muttonchop sideburns and steel-gray hair, he looked older and thinner now, carrying the weight of years and regrets. His degenerative limp was much more pronounced. He had retired at the end of the last rebellion and intended to stay out of the limelight, wanting nothing more than to tend his grapevines, play with his grandsons, and let his son Escobar be the next renowned military hero.
But as the new rebellion went sour, Percival had been dragged out of retirement and pressed back into service at the Diadem's command. His fresh uniform was adorned with colorful, even gaudy, medalsâsome of them earned, some merely for show.
Forcing himself not to show weakness or hesitation despite his chronic limp, he strode at a brisk pace that exuded authority. With briefing documents tucked under one arm, he walked past fountains and military memorials, obelisks engraved with thousands of names of the fallen, but his thoughts were preoccupied. Diadem Michella and Lord Riomini had requested a special briefing, and Percival knew he would have to tell them what they wanted to hear.
Five sleek fighters streaked across Aeroc's sky, performing aerial maneuvers, which impressed those who were impressed by that sort of thing. A man like Commodore Hallholme knew that combat would require more than tricks this time.
He mounted the marble steps of the pillared headquarters building and glanced at the engraved quotes from past heroic commanders. One of his own pithy sayings was included somewhere, but he had never bothered to find it. Pennants of noble families hung outside the arched entrance, arranged according to their financial sacrifice. Inside the hall, red banners carried the names of lesser families who had lost sons and daughters during the bloody battles of the General's first rebellion.
Percival lifted his chin and made his way down the oddly empty hall to the giant simulation chamber. With a glance at his chronometer, Commodore Hallholme saw that he was precisely on time, and he entered.
The curved ceiling of the simulation chamber was embedded with high-res holographic projectors. During wartime the chamber had been used for combat scenarios and tactical planning, but in the decade of calm after Adolphus's exile to Hellhole, it was primarily used for wealthy noble officers to experience immersive simulations of the Battle of Sonjeera or other famous engagementsâparticularly the ones in which Commodore Hallholme had defeated the rebel General. That way the participants could imagine being heroes themselves.
The Diadem and the Black Lord sat in VIP participation chairs in the prime viewing area. They did not rise as Percival presented himself to them.
Diadem Michella Duchenet was so ancient that she might have been a poorly preserved museum piece. Thin and wrinkled, she was not frail, but remained intimidating in her old age, with bird-bright eyes and quick movements. Defying her own mortality, Michella remained lean and healthy, keeping herself fanatically fit, as if she intended to rule for yet another century. Over her long reign, the old woman had survived many battles, and Percival knew not to underestimate her. Generally, Michella liked to present a sweet, maternal demeanor, convinced that her people loved and adored her, but she was as comforting as a bed of glass shards.
Beside her, Lord Riomini sat dressed entirely in black, as usual. The Black Lord was two decades younger than Michella, his body soft, eyes hard. Though he was primarily a politician and businessman, he did not fear command and had seen battle firsthand. But unlike a commander who simply had a war to win, Riomini had something to prove: He wanted to be the next Diadem.
Percival held out his briefing papers. “I have the report you requested, Eminence.”
Upon his return to Sonjeera in defeat, the Commodore had offered his resignation, but Diadem Michella refused to accept it. Since then, he felt as if he were more of a military trophy than a useful participant.
Now, instead of taking the report, Michella lifted a hand that was overburdened with jeweled rings. “We are not here to discuss inventory, Commodore, but to talk about your upcoming conquest of the Deep Zone. Fifty-four valuable worlds have broken away from the Constellation. We need them back.”
Riomini added, “The lost wealth is incalculable. The political embarrassment is even more devastating.”
Arguments and replies boiled up within him, but Percival kept silent. Better to say nothing than to point out that this current clash was an unnecessary crisis of the Diadem's own making.
“Present your overview, Commodore.” Riomini operated controls linked to his seat, and the vault filled with stars, showing the settled systems of the Constellation, the twenty central Crown Jewel planets and the fifty-four outlying Deep Zone worlds.
Percival nudged the controls of the galactic model himself, calling up a standard template. Bright blue lines radiated outward from the center of the star map to each one of those worlds. Twenty established lines connected the Crown Jewels, and an additional fifty-four extended into the less-populated Deep Zone, connecting the dots. “With Sonjeera as the hub for all stringline travel, Eminence, you control all of the stringline paths, and thus all commerce throughout the original Crown Jewels as well as the new DZ worlds.”
Another nudge of the controls, and a secondary webwork of red lines radiated from one of the distant unobtrusive pointsâplanet Hellholeâin a network that linked every one of the Deep Zone planets. He was sure Michella understood the credible threat that Adolphus could wieldâand had already wielded.