Hellhole: Awakening (48 page)

Long-range scanners displayed detailed images of the planet; everyone gazing at their screens felt sickening dismay at the same time. To their astonishment, they saw dozens of rebel warships circling the planet, along with smaller weapons platforms. The reconditioned battle vessels looked formidable, along with FTL attack ships that bristled with weapons, all positioned to defend their DZ stringline hub. A much larger force than Escobar—or anyone in the Constellation fleet—had expected to see.

“Not so defenseless as we’ve been led to believe!” Escobar growled.

Bolton said, “The General has had two extra months to prepare.”

Gail Carrington added, “We still outnumber them. We are not going to turn back now.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” Escobar opened the command codecall line. “Forward! Engage the enemy before they even know we’re coming.”

Discipline in the Constellation fleet was lax and morale at rock bottom; the formations were ragged, the ships wove about like drunken birds. He could see by the clean lines and tightly regimented formations, however, that the rebel defenses were much better drilled, much more alert.

“Maintain course. We can outgun them.”

He watched as the General’s ships lit up and began to move, turning their glowing weapons ports toward the oncoming fleet.

“They’ve spotted us,” reported his female tactical officer. At first, Escobar thought her voice sounded just like Lieutenant Cristaine’s … but it was someone new.

“Open codecall to the public channel, but without visuals. I don’t want the enemy to see how we look, or he’ll realize that we are in a desperate situation.”

After verifying that the system was voice-only, he spoke directly into the voice pickup. “This is Red Commodore Escobar Hallholme, representing the Constellation. I hereby seize this planet in the name of the Diadem and demand your unconditional surrender. Turn over the criminal Tiber Adolphus for proper punishment—or you will be destroyed.”

75

The alarms in Elba rang in the middle of the night, a private emergency signal from the
Jacob
patrolling the skies over Hellhole. Adolphus was immediately awake, as if gunfire had echoed overhead. He knew this was no minor call, no false alarm. Sophie groaned as she roused herself and hurried to dress.

Craig Jordan, who operated the flagship while in orbit, shouted over the direct codecall link, “General, a large force just appeared in our system!”

“A large force?” Adolphus said. “How many ships?”

“More than fifty, sir. ETA, less than an hour.”

Adolphus shook his head. “How could they
appear
in the system? Are you monitoring both stringline networks?”

“They didn’t come in on either line, sir—not from the DZ and not from Sonjeera.” Jordan sounded flustered, trying to keep control of the situation. “They came in on some other path. We’re checking.”

Sophie, bleary-eyed, reacted with shock. “A
new
stringline?”

“I’m going to my war room, Jordan. I want a full report when I get there.”

After his nerve-racking expedition to Candela and the alarming events at the Ankor spaceport, Adolphus was glad to be back at Elba. On his first night at home, he had looked forward to sleeping in his own bed, comforted to have Sophie beside him. He drew strength and stability from her; she made him feel he could keep all the myriad cogs and gears in place, moving along.…

Now, as if the two of them moved in a well-choreographed dance, Sophie pulled out his appropriate clothes while Adolphus dressed rapidly; in less than ten minutes he cut an impressive figure.

Adolphus entered Elba’s conference chamber, where screens on the walls were linked to the
Jacob
’s bridge and to other primary ships guarding Hellhole. Although he had sent fifteen vessels to Candela, he still had forty-five armed ships here to defend the DZ stringline hub. He would have to make the best of them.

As soon as the General activated the screens in the war room, Craig Jordan’s image appeared from the
Jacob
’s bridge. He gave his report without being asked. “Here’s what we know so far, sir. Seventy warships are heading this way under standard in-system propulsion.”

“But where did they come from? And are there more in hiding?”

“With our high-res scanners, backtracking the route of the inbound warships, we found four stringline haulers on the edge of the system, military-size carrier vessels.”

Standing at his shoulder, Sophie interrupted. “We don’t have a stringline terminus so far out—how did they get here?”

“Somebody placed another terminus ring outside the system,” Adolphus said, his thoughts spinning. “It means a trailblazer laid down a new iperion path, just like we did with our own DZ network.”

“But a voyage from Sonjeera would have taken years!” Sophie handed him a cup of steaming kiafa from Elba’s kitchens.

“We’ll ask for details once we’ve defeated them. Battle stations, Mr. Jordan!” He turned to Sophie, frustrated. “I can’t stay down here. I need to be on the
Jacob
’s bridge, at the front of the attack.”

Sophie put her hands on his shoulder to keep him in his seat. “If those ships will arrive in less than an hour, you don’t have time. Stay here in the command center and manage our response. Take a breath. Do it right.”

He looked around, anxious to be in the thick of the fight, but he had established this Elba war room as a satellite administrative chamber. It contained the equipment he needed. “You’re right.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” she said with a smile.

Jordan reported, “Message coming in, sir. It’s from—” He caught his breath. “He says he’s Red Commodore Escobar Hallholme.”

Adolphus remained motionless as the pieces fell into place. “So, the missing Constellation fleet finally got here.” Somehow those ships had found their own path to Hellhole, though it had taken them months. Was this an ingenious surprise maneuver, or an act of desperation? Had they somehow kept the true nature of their mission a secret even from Dak Telom? Adolphus felt beaten by the very idea, the
audacity
of such a risky plan.

He muttered under his breath, “I will not surrender to a Hallholme again.”

Sophie’s voice was hard. “Damn right.”

“Put him on, Mr. Jordan.”

A male voice spoke over the connection, but there was no visual. “This is Red Commander Escobar Hallholme. I repeat, surrender and turn over the criminal Tiber Adolphus—or you will all be destroyed.”

Adolphus switched to a private line, said, “He’s blocking his image, Mr. Jordan. I want to know why. Can you break through the codecall blocks he’s placed on his warship?”

“Already working on it, sir. Getting close. When we get the visual line, we should be able to hold it open for maybe ten minutes before they find a work-around and it goes dark again. Here it comes, sir!”

In the seconds it took for the images to appear, the General’s pulse raced. Then, as the screen came into focus, he found himself face-to-face with the son of Commodore Hallholme. As soon as he saw the Redcom’s face, Adolphus understood much more: Escobar Hallholme’s bluster was diminished by the haunted, desperate look on his emaciated face. He didn’t seem to know yet that he could be seen.

“You have five minutes before we open fire,” the Redcom said, glaring ahead. “We await your response.”

Adolphus looked carefully at the man. He had similar facial features to his legendary father’s, though his light-brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he did not sport the old Commodore’s distinguished muttonchop whiskers. Escobar’s hard eyes stared ahead like weapon beams. He looked confident, arrogant, completely in charge. But he had hollow shadows under his eyes, a gaunt and shaky look. Despite his bravado, he carried an aura of desperation, like brittle glass. Everyone on the enemy bridge was thin and stooped over, with haunted eyes, like images he had seen of torture victims.

Sophie saw it, too. “Look at him, and the other officers on the bridge! They’re all starving.”

Without activating his own codecall, the General stared and pondered. This revelation changed everything. “Let them eat silence for a few minutes.”

The answers now crystallized, and Adolphus guessed what must have occurred. This surprise ambush was not part of a long-standing, devious plan at all. When the iperion path was cut, the lost fleet had indeed been stranded—just as the Urvanciks had determined. But they had gone so far astray that the General’s search parties had not been able to locate them. They had limped their way here, using the last gasps of their resources; only four of the five stringline haulers had made it.

Although he admired the younger Hallholme for the impossible decisions he must have made just to keep his fleet alive for so long, Adolphus realized that every person aboard those ominous battleships had to be weak from malnutrition, desperate, at the ragged end. Before his ships fired a single shot at them, Redcom Hallholme had already lost 30 percent of his fleet.

Adolphus could use that.

Before he responded to the ultimatum, Adolphus made preparations. He had the kitchen staff deliver a platter of pastries, cheese, and hard-boiled eggs, an impromptu breakfast feast. Only when he had the extravagant food spread out before him did he activate his own codecall screen; for good measure, to make certain everyone aboard the seventy attacking ships saw him, he expanded the signal to include all standard Constellation military frequencies.

When he finally answered, he gave a bright grin. “Greetings, Red Commodore. You are a long way from Sonjeera.” He picked up one of the pastries, took a slow bite.

“Your actions forced us to come, General,” Escobar said. “I have orders from Diadem Michella to accept your immediate surrender. All of your assets are forfeit.”

“You don’t look well, Mr. Hallholme.”

The Redcom jerked back, looked around. A female officer whispered in his ear, apparently telling him that their enemy could see the inside of their ship. Hallholme scowled, stared straight at the screen. In the background, his officers struggled to find the work-around to shut off the images.

“In fact,” Adolphus added, “your entire bridge crew looks ragged and hungry.” He casually nibbled on his pastry. “You have intruded upon my territory and I’m afraid it won’t be possible for us to surrender.” He took a sip of kiafa, leaned forward. “I will, however, accept
your
surrender.”

“Don’t be foolish, General. We have twice as many ships as you do!”

Adolphus’s gaze did not waver, nor did he quibble with Escobar’s exaggeration. “I see your ragtag ships, and I’m convinced you’re out of supplies. How long has it been since your crew has had a decent meal? And how are your power supplies? Life-support reserves? Are your weapons at full capacity? Your fuel levels must be very low.”

“After we take over this planet in the name of the Diadem,” Escobar said, struggling to find his defiance, “we’ll confiscate what we need from your stockpiles.”

“You are welcome to try,” Adolphus said with a shrug. “Although I’d rather you saw reason. You may have a handful more ships, but my well-armed fleet is more than a match for yours. We have plenty of weapons, all systems fully powered, and we’re on our home territory.” He smiled again, twisting the verbal knife. “And my people are well fed, well rested, and well trained, at the peak of their abilities. Can you say the same for your crew?”

He raised his eyebrows. When his rival fumbled for words, Adolphus continued, “I promise we’ll put up a hell of a fight, and we’ll wear you down. We can hold you off, and it’ll be a stalemate for at least a week or two. Are your crewmembers prepared to wait that long?”

Adolphus picked up a wedge of trimmed melon, took a bite, then tossed aside the half-finished slice. “I was a military officer in the Constellation, Redcom—just like you. I went through the Aeroc Academy, excelled in my training. I only turned against the corrupt government when they cheated me out of my rank and tried to kill me and other second-string nobles, just so someone could steal our holdings. How is my family estate on Qiorfu, by the way, Redcom? I hope the Hallholmes are taking good care of it for me.”

“The
Hallholme
estate is doing well, General, and I look forward to returning to it after we wrap up this matter. You are a traitor to the Diadem, a condemned rebel.”

“Actually, I’m a man of honor,” Adolphus said, calmly. “No matter how Constellation propaganda distorts what happened during the rebellion, the most inept historian can study my pattern of decisions and the ethical basis on which I made them. I gave my word, and I abided by it, and now I have an obligation to my people. Allow me to extend a generous offer to your crew. We will feed all of you and keep you safe. Those who need medical attention will receive it. You will be accorded fair treatment as prisoners of war until we resolve this conflict with the Constellation.”

Escobar’s angry laugh held an undertone of anxiety. “If you won’t surrender, General, I’ll order my forces to destroy you.”

“Go ahead and try if you think you can pull it off,” Adolphus said as he ate another pastry. “All of our ships have full larders, and we can wait you out. In a week or two I
might
extend my offer of food and shelter again.”

He switched off the codecall.

*   *   *

Escobar was shocked when two of his Constellation frigates, the most desperate warships with the most unruly crews, surged past his flagship. They opened fire without orders, strafing the General’s defensive vessels in orbit. The attack was sudden and unplanned, but vigorous.

“Hold your fire! Return to position!” Escobar shouted. “I gave no command—”

Two of the Hellhole defenders were damaged in the initial flurry, but the rest opened fire on the advancing frigates. Within minutes, the impetuous Constellation ships were gutted, leaking air into space. Their fuel chambers reached critical levels, and engines detonated in chain reactions, destroying both vessels.

Carrington snapped, “The die is cast, Redcom. Are you going to just stare at the screen?”