Hellhole (59 page)

Sophie shook her head, sickened. “Worse than that – after Keana immersed herself, she fell into a coma. That’s rarely happened – and none of the other victims have woken up. We might lose her for good.”

The General’s gut turned cold, and he groaned. “Sophie, do you know what this
means
?”

Walfor whistled. “It means the Diadem’s head is going to explode.”

Sophie lowered her head. “Sorry, Tiber. I screwed up. I should have been watching her every move, keeping the rich little princess from hurting herself, but I thought it might be good for her to sleep on the hard ground for a change. I didn’t think she’d do something so stupid.” She shook her head, clearly shamed. “She made up her mind and was hell-bent on doing it. Cristoph rejected her, blamed her for the death of his father – and who could say he wasn’t right?” Her gaze sharpened at all of them. “It’s not his fault.”

“You don’t have to defend Cristoph, Sophie. The Duchenets don’t need any help in mucking up a situation.”

“If Keana’s in a coma, where is she now?” Tanja asked.

“A hospital in Helltown. Cristoph is with her.”

Adolphus clenched his jaw, feeling the consequences ripple through his mind. “This couldn’t have happened at a worse time – the final stage of our stringline network! No matter what explanations we make, the Diadem will be convinced this is some plot I concocted as a way to take personal revenge.”

“Well,” Walfor pointed out, “the old bitch did crush your rebellion and exile you to near-certain death. Sounds like a good enough motive for revenge.”

“Oh, I intend to get my revenge against the Diadem, but not using an innocent bystander like Keana. When I choose to strike, I’ll hit
primary
targets.”

“The moment she learns where her daughter is, the Diadem will demand her return, maybe even send soldiers to seize the Princess by force,” Sia Frankov said.

“Unless you hold her hostage.” Tanja raised her eyebrows. “We could use her as a bargaining chip.”

“I wasn’t planning to draw the Diadem’s attention
at all
, particularly now. Maybe we should hide Keana, keep this quiet.”

“She’s in a
medical center
, Tiber,” Sophie said. “And she caused something of a stir when she arrived at Slickwater Springs, blundering around in search of Cristoph. The two of them had quite a public quarrel before everyone watched her jump into the pool. That woman’s left muddy footprints all over Hellhole, and Michella has enough spies that you can bet a message is already on its way to her.”

“We could get rid of her,” Tanja Hu said. “Claim she died in an accident. Doctor files, drum up some willing witnesses. It’s even believable: Keana Duchenet’s past actions.”

“Not now!” Adolphus clenched his fists, raised his voice. “Anything like that would cause a firestorm of inquiries, and we simply can’t afford to draw so much attention. It’s become an all-out race – that’s all there is to it. We have to get our hub and all the new stringline ships in operation before the Constellation can do anything about it. Send our ships to guard the terminus rings from Sonjeera, prepare to blow the string-line nodes if we need to. Once our network is set, we can cut them off entirely.”

He let out a long sigh, then straightened. “I’ll just have to make my announcement sooner than I had hoped.”

W
hen he received the urgent message from Slickwater Springs, Cristoph turned his vehicle around and retraced his tracks to the alien pools.

He had barely been gone an hour from the settlement, heading out to the museum vault where he worked with the four Originals. He was still furious with Keana, amazed at her gall. After all the harm she had done to his father, and to him, she had expected him to embrace her and forget the past! What a vapid, sheltered, naïve woman. Cristoph didn’t regret a single word he had said to her.

Then the fool princess had jumped into a slickwater pool, and she hadn’t awakened. Fernando-Zairic and two other shadow-Xayans had fished her out of the pool, where she floated face-down, paralyzed by the contact with the liquid-crystal datafluid.

Everything in Cristoph’s rational mind told him to stay away and let the Diadem’s daughter die, but now he felt frozen. Chances were that she’d never emerge from her coma. It seemed that neither Keana nor his father had the backbone to face the unpleasant consequences of their own actions . . .

At Slickwater Springs, Sophie and her workers had taken the woman into the lodge house and laid her out on a narrow bed. As Cristoph rushed to Keana’s side, trying to sort out his feelings, he realized that he did want to see her and needed to do whatever he could, even if that meant just sitting with her and talking without receiving a response. Perhaps somewhere in her subconscious, she could hear his voice. No matter what his father might have done, Cristoph had to take the course of honor.

Even though it was her own damned fault.

“It would have been kinder if I’d just refused to meet with her,” he had said as Sophie hovered close. “I could have isolated myself so that she never found me.” But such cruelty was not in his nature. In his own despair, he had not recognized hers . . .

After the incident, none of the other visitors had dared to enter the slickwater, despite Fernando-Zairic’s reassurances that hundreds of shadow-Xayans already lived happily together at the nearby settlement in the jungle-like alien undergrowth.

Sophie appeared greatly disturbed as she regarded the comatose woman. “That could have happened to my Devon,” she said in a quiet voice. “Or to Antonia.”

She summoned a private flyer to airlift Keana to a hospital in Michella Town, and Cristoph rode along in the aircraft as the tense pilot had to alter course by hundreds of kilometers to avoid a swirling static-storm. Meanwhile, Sophie had gone to Ankor to break the news to General Adolphus . . .

When Devon Vence gave him the belongings Keana Duchenet had left in her tent, Cristoph accepted the package, unsure of what he was supposed to do with the items. Why was
he
the one responsible for this foolish woman who had not only ruined his father, but the entire de Carre holdings, and now herself?

He knew his father had been smitten with Keana, but Cristoph always assumed she had tricked him somehow. How could the Diadem’s daughter be any less scheming than her mother? Why would she leave Sonjeera and come here to search for
him
? What could she possibly want? He had nothing more for her to take. Of course, Cristoph had made a good enough life here on Hellhole, and General Adolphus gave him worthy responsibilities. Cristoph was thriving – something he had never imagined on that bleak day when he left the Vielenger estate, nearly penniless.

Why had Keana seemed devastated when Cristoph rebuffed her and took away her imagined redemption? He couldn’t understand what her game was – unless she was telling the truth, and that didn’t make sense either. It defied logic that such a wealthy and powerful woman, entangled in Constellation politics, would pretend to be no more than a romantic heroine in a silly love story.

Yet when Cristoph ransacked her satchel of belongings, he found nothing sinister, no evidence of a hidden agenda. Instead, he found images of his father and Keana, looking happy, glowing with contentment. He found a handsome portrait of Louis de Carre, the familiar picture of Louis’s long-dead wife Angelique, as well as several images of Cristoph . . . as if Keana had imagined herself part of the family.

Was that what she had thought? So downtrodden by a corrupt and cynical government that she wanted to cut all ties, give away her wealth and position, and lead a simple life? Cristoph shook his head. How could anyone imagine that day-to-day existence here on Hellhole was simple?

At the bottom of the satchel Cristoph found a packet of letters and poems, handwritten on actual paper. He untied the neat lavender ribbon that bound them together, sorted through the pages. He recognized his father’s hand on some of the poems and letters, while others were penned by Keana herself. Cristoph scanned them, trying to absorb what he read.

These were sincere and passionate love letters, romantic poetry that would have been insipid had it not been so heartfelt. He caught his breath, read them again, and wrestled with the conclusion he could not deny: Louis de Carre had been truly and completely in love with Keana Duchenet – and Keana returned his affections with all her heart.

Cristoph held the notes, read the lines again and again. If this oblivious, imprudent woman’s seduction wasn’t part of a larger scheme, if Keana Duchenet had not been involved in a twisted plan to bring about the downfall of the de Carre line, if she had simply fallen in love with the wrong man at the wrong time – then Cristoph had to reassess everything he had thought about her. Keana’s love for his father had made her a pawn.

She had jumped into the slickwater!

Maybe she really did feel guilty. Maybe she was truly hurting and had discarded her old life to reach out to Cristoph because he was the only one who might understand her terrible sense of loss.

And now she was in a coma.

Cristoph remained beside Keana in the medical center for two days. So far, out of hundreds of converts only nine had suffered similar reactions to the slickwater, and they all remained vegetables in a separate ward. None of the Mercifuls or doctors expected Keana to wake up.

While he waited, Cristoph felt no pull of obligation to the job assignment General Adolphus had given him. The Original Xayans could interact with the other investigators in the museum vault. None of those things were important to him anymore. Such duties felt like little more than static buzzing in his head, distracting him from doing what he needed to do.

More than a hundred men were stationed in the mountain vault, working with Encix, Cippiq, Lodo, and Tryn to excavate and retrieve as much ancient information as possible. The General wanted to be briefed on any major new finds, and Cristoph de Carre was supposedly in charge of the operation. Sooner or later, the General would insist that he return to his duties.

The General had accepted Cristoph when he came to Hellhole with nothing, tested his resolve with unpleasant and dirty labor, then placed him in charge of the vault-excavation project.

The more Cristoph got to know General Adolphus, the more he liked and respected him. Despite the man’s defeat, dishonor, and exile, Adolphus was a true visionary and an excellent leader who thought of his people and the future, rather than hedonistic distractions and political games. Though it was far too late, Cristoph wished the de Carre family had taken the other side of the rebellion. That might have made the difference between victory and failure.

Or maybe the de Carres would merely have found themselves exiled here a decade sooner. At last, Cristoph knew he was on the right side, the moral side. On this path, he would regain his family honor. Maybe that was what Keana had been trying to do, as well, but he hadn’t given her the chance . . .

An attendant checked Keana’s monitors and noted the readings. The woman wore a white uniform and headband, as well as a white ring around her wedding finger, signifying her pledge to help the weak and dying. The Mercifuls were the only group of volunteer nurses who had established a significant presence on Hellhole. She offered Cristoph a polite smile, then left the room.

Alone with Keana, he spoke soothingly to her, repeating her name as well as his father’s, pleading with her to come back. As much to remind himself as to trigger a response from her, he reminisced about times he’d spent with his father on Vielinger, roaming the beautiful woods near the manor house, fishing in the streams. Maybe something would shock her out of her coma – a few well-chosen words, an anecdote. Cristoph realized how much he and the Princess had both loved his father, after all.

Here in the quiet hospital room, he could avoid thinking of the uproar that must be taking place outside. When the Diadem learned what Keana had foolishly done, she would almost certainly use it as an excuse to retaliate. He was certain the patient’s identity had not remained secret. Too many people at Slickwater Springs had known who she was, had heard them argue and had seen her nearly die after immersion in the pool.

A stringline hauler had departed yesterday. It was only a matter of time.

T
he Diadem felt the vast empire slipping through her fingers, and she blamed much of the chaos on Keana. Some members of the Crais family had whispered openly that if Michella couldn’t control her own daughter, how could she control seventy-four widely scattered planets?

A few of the most powerful lords, including her supposed ally Selik Riomini, suggested that she should retire and initiate an election for her successor “in this time of crisis.” Their arguments did not sway her; it was always a supposed time of crisis, and someone was always trying to find excuses for what they wanted.

Throughout her reign, Michella had depended upon the private Riomini armies, though she trusted them less and less as the decades passed. Because Lord Selik was growing too powerful, she had been reluctant to let him gain control of Vielinger and the iperion stockpiles there, but Keana’s indiscretions with Louis de Carre had given the Riominis the wedge they needed. With his new prominence, the Black Lord climbed higher on the list as her heir-apparent.