Hellhole (13 page)

Tanja hated the look of the trampled, excavated, and denuded hills. Someday she hoped to restore the vegetation, but the constant need to fulfill the tribute quota forced her to adopt extreme methods of production. The mining teams operated around the clock, and the upcoming rainy season would make things even more difficult.

But she hadn’t brought Walfor to see the current strip mine. He flew over another scarred hilltop, where young trees were taking hold to repair the industrial scars from the previous years of mining. “It’s looking better,” she said. “You can’t see any evidence of the deep mine at all, and the tunnels are holding nicely.”

While covering up the old strip mines, Tanja had maintained a series of secret, undocumented shafts through the mountains, which linked a very special mine with the open sea, where Walfor’s fleet of fast boats collected the rare cargo and loaded it aboard his spacefaring FTL freighters for transport to General Adolphus on Hellhole.

A rich vein of iperion, about which the Constellation knew nothing.

Seven years earlier, Uncle Quinn had made the unexpected discovery: a mother lode of the rare substance that marked stringline paths through space. If Tanja had announced the discovery to the Constellation, Crown Jewel industrialists and government officials would have swarmed like locusts to Candela, so she chose not to inform the Diadem.

That was when she decided on a different course for her planet and her people. Only Quinn and a few trusted people knew about the iperion excavation and processing operations. General Tiber Adolphus was her only customer, because she had bought into his grand scheme. If the wrong people ever found out about her secret plans, she and everyone involved would be charged with treason.

Ian Walfor laughed with great pleasure as he swooped around the hidden operations. Later, after they finished the inspection, he guided the aerocopter back toward Saporo harbor and the floating administration buildings. “It takes a certain type of person to succeed out here in the DZ. And you, Tanja, are definitely the right type.”

“Look who’s talking.”

As they flew on, dark clouds began to gather over the mountains, and she knew full well what they indicated. A spattering of warm rain covered the craft’s windshield. Candela’s monsoons would arrive soon.

A
fter his encounter with the exiled rebel General, Ishop Heer was glad to be home on Sonjeera. Ishop was accustomed to manipulating people, especially the Sonjeeran nobles who treated him with little respect, but Adolphus had smoothly bullied him in spite of the fact that Ishop had caught the man evading his proper tributes to Sonjeera.

He took a deep breath of the fresh,
clean
air. After leaving that primitive and gritty DZ planet, he still felt soiled. Ishop had showered thoroughly on the passenger pod home, several times, and had even disposed of his clothes. Yes, it felt very, very good to be back on Sonjeera.

The glorious capital made adrenaline throb through his veins as he pondered the back-room intrigues, the schemes of lawmakers and their associates, and his own role in the swirling action. He was a discreet aide, a watchdog, a shadowy “expediter of difficult tasks” for the Diadem. Though he wasn’t, and would never be, one of the nobles, he glided among them, unnoticed and underestimated. In some ways, that was better.

His remarkable assistant, Laderna Nell, was skilled at digging up damaging information about the Diadem’s opponents. She was as organized as he needed, managed his numerous lists and kept her own. With her keen detective skills, Laderna had even uncovered embarrassing details about Michella herself – particularly a rumor that she had murdered her own brother, Jamos, as a child, then threatened to kill her little sister, Haveeda, who had witnessed the incident. Interesting data point: for the past several decades, Haveeda had not been seen in public, and was said to be living in therapeutic mental institutions, though no one could find her. It was enough to pique Ishop’s curiosity.

However, he wisely held such explosive information in extreme confidence and would use it only under the direst circumstances. Ishop was loyal and would allow no one to hurt Diadem Michella.

However, if she ever tried to hurt
him
. . .

On the day after arriving back from the DZ pustule of Hallholme, he reported early to the House of Lords, accompanied by the dutiful Laderna. In a windowless anteroom, he and his quiet assistant drank stale, murky kiafa – a popular hot beverage that was stimulating and heavily sweetened – while they reviewed the information he would provide to the Council.

Gangly and nearly his height, Laderna had red hair, a long neck and brown, almond-shaped eyes. Bookish and awkward, she was nonetheless the smartest, most dedicated researcher Ishop had ever hired. She drank two cups of kiafa for every one of his, and if he failed to finish his own cup, she invariably would. Right now, she held his half-full cup in her hands, sipping as she looked over the notes on an electronic clipboard and made marks. “Emphasis points.” He had made his own lists and, astonishingly, her points matched his.

Ishop would have preferred to report first to the Diadem, but Michella had been caught up in private meetings with the quarreling Tazaar and Paternos representatives. His report to the Council about Adolphus and his secret mining activities would upstage that (not that the nobles would thank him).

Laderna looked at him with bright, earnest eyes. “You seem distracted today.”

“Maybe I should have finished my own kiafa, then.” He looked at the cup in her hands.

Laderna realized what she’d done and quickly passed it back to him. “Oh, sorry.”

He normally would have refused to touch a vessel from which someone else had drunk, but this was Laderna. He gulped the rest of the beverage, set the cup aside, and then scanned her notes, approving the suggestions. “It’s time for us to go in.”

Ishop entered the great hall through a side doorway, with Laderna following close on his heels. She found a place in one of the side galleries, while he took his customary seat alone at a wooden table centered in front of the Star Throne. The lawmakers and nobles were noisy as they settled into their places in the U-shaped arrangement of seats.

Everyone rose as Diadem Michella entered. The regal, gray-haired woman looked especially stern in sharp contrast with the genial public face she usually showed. Ishop was in the habit of noting the colors the Diadem chose as an indicator of her moods. Today, Michella wore a dark robe with the swirling Constellation crest on it. Yes, she was angry about something.

The gold-uniformed Sergeant at Arms called the session to order, and everyone sat. “First, we will hear the report from Special Aide Heer, who has returned from planet Hallholme with new discoveries about the activities of General Adolphus.”

During the expected grumble from the listeners, Ishop gave a respectful bow and secret smile to the Diadem, then acknowledged the assembled nobles. Some of them regarded him as if he were a lesser creature to be tolerated rather than respected; no matter how good a job Ishop did, this was the reception he always received because he wasn’t one of them.

While he never allowed himself to show any reaction to their disdain, he did make mental notes of the worst offenders, and conducted some preliminary investigations in case he should ever need to defend himself. It was always advisable to have scapegoats ready at hand . . .

He had washed his hands and face, dressed himself fastidiously, and now stood before them with his notes and his list in hand. “Gentlemen, Ladies, nobles all, I have recently returned from Hallholme, and would like to offer my report on the exiled Tiber Maximilian Adolphus.” Disapproval whickered through the seated lawmakers.

Following Laderna’s suggestions, he summarized what he had seen during his inspection of Adolphus’s records. He described the planet’s commercial and fledgling industrial capabilities. Gesturing with his hands for extra effect, Ishop reported that Adolphus enjoyed a lavish existence because he had been hiding some of his industries from the Constellation.

Ishop swept his gaze across the audience, letting the meaning sink in, then he referred to the list one more time before speaking. “Administrator Adolphus has hidden mines, smelters, metals processing factories. His production of steel, copper, aluminum, titanium, and tin are all at least twenty per cent higher than reported. He has been cheating us all.” He said the “us” intentionally, though none of the nobles would count him among their number.

Instead of the outrage he expected to hear, however, he heard only a grumble, even a titter. Lord Azio Tazaar said, “Twenty per cent more of metals that do us no good anyway? Do you want him to send cargo boxes of brass ingots to Sonjeera? It would cost ten times more to ship than it’s worth.” He let out a loud snort. “If that’s the worst Tiber Adolphus can do, we should leave him to his schemes.”

Ishop was surprised at the reaction. The noble families had so quickly forgotten the threat posed by the General. “He is a dangerous man,” he reminded them. He described how Adolphus had threatened to turn him, the Diadem’s lawful representative, out into a horrific static-storm.

Lord Riomini called from the front row of seats, “I would turn you out into a storm myself, Heer!” They all laughed at him.

Ishop offered a thin smile in return, pretending to take no offense because the Black Lord was the Diadem’s most powerful ally, but Ishop would not forget such comments. He waited for the laughter in the chamber (not all of which was good-natured) to subside. Much as he resented it, Ishop Heer knew his place.

Recognizing Ishop’s potential early on, Michella had raised him from humble beginnings, rewarding his extraordinary talents and loyalty. As a youth, Ishop always believed he could achieve his dreams, one way or another, but he was a nobody – the only child of unremarkable family and unambitious parents – and so he ran away from home.

Intent on making something of himself, even without family connections, Ishop talked his way into a low-level position in the Diadem’s palace where he worked hard, always listening, keeping his eyes open for an opportunity.

Ishop carved his own niche, discovering the intricate web of politics and schemes in the palace – even among the ranks of the servants, cooks, guards, couriers, and gardeners. Everyone, it seemed, had plans to secure the job just over their head. And Ishop was better at it than his peers.

The turning point occurred while he was working in the palace garage. When he sensed something amiss in the head chauffeur’s demeanor that others had not noticed, he reported his suspicions to a guard captain, a stony-faced woman who, Ishop knew, had ambitions to climb in rank. Taking a chance on the insistent young man’s observations, palace security men promptly searched the chauffeur’s room and found evidence of an extensive plot to assassinate the Diadem as she made her way to a gala public event.

Seventeen men and women in the palace were trapped in the unraveling web (every person on the list he had made). Ishop was willing to share credit with the ambitious guard captain. Unfortunately the stern woman was not. And so Ishop set out to destroy her as well. Using his detailed observations of the traitorous chauffeur, Ishop fabricated evidence that linked the female guard captain to the chauffeur and the various coconspirators. They all died horribly.

It was like clearing deadwood from a forest, and Ishop soon had a wide open path before him. He learned how to do what was necessary, first for himself and then – after she took him under her wing – for Diadem Michella.

The old woman often showed Ishop her appreciation, and he was always grateful for what she had done for him. Now, Ishop performed whatever tasks the Diadem required with a discreet, sometimes extreme, touch. Over the years he had disposed of three lesser noblemen, all of whom wanted a bigger piece of the Constellation pie for themselves. Each death had been made to look like an accident, check one, check two, check three. Diadem Michella never wanted to know the grisly details; she merely informed him that she wanted it done – and quickly. She and Ishop had a smooth working relationship, and she rewarded him with a comfortable apartment in the government quarter, sexual liaisons with expensive courtesans, and generous payments into his personal accounts.

Ishop didn’t need to impress these self-important noblemen. He had what he deserved, didn’t he? Intelligence and talent had carried him to the top, and he had struck the ceiling of realistic possibilities. Michella occasionally created a new position or title for him, but he always felt a vague, unsatisfied hunger, as if he had attended one of the Diadem’s fancy receptions and tried to make a meal of the dainty appetizers that, while delicious, were not actually filling . . .

The stocky, bearded Lord Tazaar spoke out. “I have no more love for the rebel Adolphus than any of you, but why should we complain if he’s established a functional civilization on that death trap of a planet? Who cares if he digs out a few more tons of iron? We
want
him to operate the colony efficiently in order to generate profits for the Constellation. We take our tribute. The reports I’ve seen show an increasing flow of tax dollars from Hallholme. Why continue to harass him unnecessarily?”

“We expect that sort of efficiency from a military man, Lord Tazaar,” the Diadem said. “But he is also dangerous. We must harness Administrator Adolphus like a beast of burden, making certain he plows the right fields and conceals nothing from us. That is why I instructed my aide to keep a close eye on him.”

Lord Riomini’s next comment was far more barbed than his previous one. “If Ishop Heer is so talented, maybe we should grant
him
control of all Tazaar assets!”

Red-faced, Azio Tazaar was about to retort when Michella cut him off with an angry word. “Enough! Finish your report, Mr Heer.”

Ishop bowed toward the Star Throne, ready to take his leave. He glanced at his list again, though he didn’t need to. “In summary, Eminence, Administrator Adolphus claims to be abiding by the terms of his exile agreement. He does, however, under-report his planet’s resources and industrial production so as to avoid paying the appropriate level of tribute. Despite these illicit activities, he seems to be contained for the moment, though he may yet pose a further threat to the Constellation.”