Hellhole (46 page)

Fernando seemed genuinely perplexed. “But why? Zairic is clearly a superior person to the man I used to be – even I can recognize that. And I sure gave you plenty of headaches.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have my faults, you know.”

“All human beings have faults. It’s what makes us who we are. I liked you, warts and all, no matter what sort of nonsense you tried to make me believe. You helped me when I needed it, and I helped you when you were in trouble.”

Fernando gave a wan smile. “I appreciate you saying that, but I’m doing something
important
with my life right now. At last I can be a real somebody – not somebody I just made up.”

Sophie Vence began putting up permanent structures and expanding Slickwater Springs into an actual village. She strung wire fences as flimsy barriers around the boardwalks, so people wouldn’t fall in accidentally, although the fence would not deter anyone intent on getting to the pools.

As word spread about Peter Herald’s new vigor and how the slick-water had supposedly healed his ailments, other sick and dying colonists came to take a chance. They also emerged stronger, healthier. And often with unusual powers of telemancy.

The crowds increased, and General Adolphus received Sophie’s reports with great interest, and promised to visit her soon.

Within four weeks, the first tourists arrived from the Crown Jewels.

W
hile her mother pretended the de Carre matter had been settled and swept aside, Keana did not stop grieving for poor Louis, nor did she give up on her search for Cristoph. But she bided her time, kept her eyes open, and pretended to go about the life her mother expected of her.

Diadem Michella assigned her the same inane duties that had always been her daily routine: presenting meaningless civic awards, appearing at sports tournaments to hand out trophies, riding in parades. Previously, knowing that Louis was there for her had kept Keana happy enough to make it through her public appearances, but that was no longer possible.

Now, she hated every moment.

Today she was supposed to dedicate a new government building for the Bureau of Deep Zone Affairs, an enormous structure that had been under construction for years. Now, when she thought about the frontier worlds, Keana knew Cristoph was out there, stripped of everything.

Until she could find out what had happened to him, she had to keep up appearances on Sonjeera. Keana would not give the Diadem the opportunity or satisfaction of thwarting her again. She didn’t know why, other than spite, Michella would try to stop her from helping Louis’s son, but Keana had already made the fatal mistake of underestimating her mother’s wrath; it wouldn’t happen again.

For today’s ceremony, the Diadem insisted that Keana be primped and tended by a team of royal stylists. She endured hours of coiffing and the application of makeup, and after the stylists finally deemed her to be lovely and perfect, she slipped away to alter her appearance more to her liking. Keana didn’t like how the eye shadow clashed with her light skin tone and blue eyes. She sat at her dressing table, using her own makeup applicators, touching up the colors. Her hands moved with jerky, tense strokes.

Shy around her, Bolton entered the room, painfully attentive. He had become a true friend after the tragedy. If only the other nobles had understood that about them, if they had accepted how much she needed Louis . . .

More out of concern for her welfare than to maintain appearances, Bolton had moved into her royal apartment for the past week, although he slept in one of the guest bedrooms. (Her mother didn’t need to know that, however.) Knowing her pain, he stayed out of her way, but he was there for her when she needed him – a prince in every sense of the word.

Now she rose to her feet, wearing a long dress with classic materials in a pretentious style, made by one of the Diadem’s top designers. Bolton helped her by draping a red sash over one shoulder and across the front of her dress. His voice was soothing. “Under other circumstances we might have been a perfect couple, my dear, if so many people had not interfered in our lives.” He sighed. “They drive me mad with their demands.”

As he attached a clasp to hold the gaudy sash in place, she noted that his eyes were sad. On impulse, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then withdrew. Bolton blushed and smiled.

The Bureau of Deep Zone Affairs headquarters was large, even by the standards of Sonjeeran bureaucracy. The lavish structure contained departments and agencies for all the frontier worlds with local offices for each of the eleven territorial governors. On the roof, fifty-four globes affixed to a gigantic transparent disk spun like a carousel. As she and Bolton stepped out of the limousine in front of the grandstand, the whirling globes caught her eye. Cristoph was on one of those DZ planets, but she had no idea where . . .

A crowd had already formed in the plaza, and as Keana approached the reserved area in front of the grandstand, she noted three ornate chairs. She had expected one for herself and another for her husband; the third was presumably for some bureau official. To her surprise, however, Diadem Michella arrived with a flurry of ceremony and a fanfare of horn blasts. The old woman left her carriage, followed by the ubiquitous Ishop Heer. The crowd cheered her arrival.

Annoyed, Keana turned her back and walked up to take her place. As Bolton seated himself beside her, she muttered, “If my mother wanted to do the ribbon cutting herself, why did she insist that I come here?”

When the Diadem climbed the stairs to join them, Keana and Bolton rose, bowed, and the old woman took the remaining seat of honor. Ishop Heer stood behind Michella. Other nobles and Bureau officials settled into seats behind them on the grandstand. Keana didn’t acknowledge her mother.

Workmen brought a long red-and-gold ribbon around the front, along with an absurdly large, ceremonial pair of scissors, which they extended with great formality, but the Diadem directed the shears to her daughter. “Gentlemen, this is Princess Keana’s event. I am merely here to observe and grant my support.” Her intrusive arrival made the self-deprecating words laughable.

As Keana took the scissors, she noted that they were inscribed with the Bureau’s new multi-globe seal. The Diadem gave her sweetest smile. “I know you didn’t expect me this morning, my dear, but I’ve heard you’re not feeling well. I wanted to show my support.”

You could have shown support in so many more important ways
. Keana barely kept the acid from her voice. “Your concern is noted, Mother.”

As the ceremony began, the Diadem attempted to engage her in light conversation as if nothing had strained their relationship, but Keana was not interested in cordiality. She responded as little as she could.

Pretending not to notice her daughter’s sour mood, the Diadem motioned to Ishop, who leaned forward to listen over the crowd noises. Keana heard everything her mother said. “Ishop, recent reports from Hallholme trouble me. Sounds like yet another religious cult has taken root there, possibly dangerous, and it’s spreading rapidly. I haven’t seen any evidence of violence, but one never knows. Every cult is dangerous in its own way.”

“Yes, Eminence. I have a complete list of cults that have gone to planet Hallholme, and I’ve studied the reports of this one. The converts claim to have access to alien memories. That buffoon Luke Pritikin didn’t notice anything.”

“He’s not much of a spy,” Michella agreed. “None of them are. I need better intelligence on that planet.”

“There have also been reports of miraculous healings, Eminence.”

“Miraculous healings? It never ceases to amaze me the silly things people will believe. Maybe we should send all of the Constellation’s infirm and terminally ill to planet Hallholme, give them to General Adolphus so they’ll no longer be a drain on our own treasury!” She chuckled.

Ishop remained serious. “That seems to be what’s happening, Eminence. The outbound passenger pods are full of the sick, and so far none of them have come back to the Crown Jewels.”

“Good riddance to them, then. Why do so many weak-minded fools flock to such nonsense? What is missing in their lives that they would surrender everything to what is obviously a scam?”

Keana thought she understood, but she made no comment.

Michella pouted, still troubled. “But why would the General allow such a thing . . . unless it was his idea. Ishop, go find out what’s happening there, make sure he isn’t up to something. I suspect Adolphus is behind this.”

“To Hallholme again, Eminence?” Ishop looked uncomfortable, wiped his hands on his clean trousers. He reacted with distaste to the very mention of the frontier planet.

“I believe that’s where you’ll find him, Ishop.” Her voice carried a sharp edge. “Maybe the General’s gotten religious all of a sudden. Wouldn’t that be ironic?” The Diadem gave a dismissive gesture, pretending not to care. “Just do the job right, Ishop. And relieve Pritikin of his duties. He’s useless.”

As the bureau chief concluded his dull presentation, thanking the Diadem for her support, music began down at crowd level. When the time came, Keana extended the ridiculous scissors and delivered a stock speech, trying not to make it sound too lackluster. Then she cut the ribbon, inaugurating the new Bureau of Deep Zone Affairs and waved numbly to the crowd as they cheered.

The people of Sonjeera were so easily fooled by appearances.

T
he Slickwater Springs camp grew as more visitors arrived, and the increasing numbers of shadow-Xayans remained there after their conversion. Sophie was forced to bring in other people to take on responsibilities. At her son’s insistence, she had given Antonia Anqui a small cabin of her own, and Sophie was pleased to see how well Devon and the girl worked together managing the influx of visitors.

Sophie found his devotion to Antonia charming. The young woman turned out to be more than just a sweet, wilting flower, as had been Sophie’s first impression when she’d seen the girl in Helltown. Indeed, Antonia had a hard wariness about her, scars from past pain . . . but that edge softened visibly around her son. In fact, Antonia reminded Sophie of herself when she had brought Devon here to make a new life.

As she watched the new converts with all of their excitement and passion, Sophie could see that their sense of wonder was genuine, but she was not tempted to immerse herself. Watching the visitors day after day, she kept her opinions private. She ran the camp, provided access to the slickwater pools, and didn’t try to talk anyone out of immersing themselves – which would breach the agreement the General had made with the Xayans.

For a while, she worried that Devon might be susceptible to Fernando-Zairic’s fervor, but fortunately, the young man was so smitten with Antonia that he wasn’t likely to sacrifice his chances with her.

Nevertheless, there were risks. The process didn’t always work. For unknown reasons, three eager volunteers were so severely shocked by slickwater immersion that they never awakened from their comas. They were taken to the Helltown medical center, where their condition remained unchanged.

When she demanded explanations from Fernando-Zairic, he was as dismayed as she was. “It is not intentional. I am sorry I can do nothing to bring those people back. But life – especially here on this planet – is fraught with uncertainty, danger, and tragedy. Recall that we have also saved a significant number of human lives.”

“I don’t think of human beings as numbers on a ledger sheet.” Nevertheless, Sophie knew he was right. Many of the sick and infirm volunteers would have died from their ailments, but the Xayan symbiosis had restored them to health.

In addition to the ailing, dying, downtrodden, or hopeless, many wonder-struck people arrived, in search of something that was missing in their lives. They hoped the slickwater would give it to them.