Read Online Hellhole by Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson - Free Book Online
Authors: Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson
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wax-smooth scalp, but he didn’t seem panicky, just unsettled that the events were out of his control.
Good , Adolphus thought . . .
Back at the landing field, he had easily identified the Diadem’s spy. They all had a certain air about them, a self-important demeanor that kept others at a distance. The large-framed man was younger than his position of importance implied, and despite his physical size, he looked slick, with hyper-alert, pale green eyes; he was solid, not fat, and entirely bald. He wore an airmask over his mouth and nose, though such measures had never been proven necessary on Hellhole; he pulled thin filmgloves onto his hands. At first glance, Adolphus thought the man was a hypochondriac, paranoid about contamination . . . but then he changed his assessment. This man had an edge, a power in his confidence; he was not paranoid, but careful .
Wearing a full uniform and all his rebellion medals, the General had surprised the spy, smiling with brittle geniality as he introduced himself. Flustered to be spotted so quickly, the watchdog imperiously presented his credentials and put away a meticulous list he had been keeping. “I am Ishop Heer, representative of Diadem Michella Duchenet. Who informed you of this visit? How long have you known I was coming?”
Having met Heer’s type before, the General deftly evaded the question. “I have told the Diadem time and again that surprise inspections are unnecessary, since I have nothing to hide. I respect and abide by the terms of my exile. I follow every letter of my promises, because I am an honorable man. Diadem Michella knows that very well by now.”
“The Diadem cannot afford to make assumptions when it comes to the peace and security of the Constellation.” Ishop sniffed behind his breathing mask, scrutinizing the military outfit. He tucked his list in his pocket. “None of those medals are for service to the Constellation. Odd that you’d wear a defunct uniform. To serve as a reminder that your rebellion failed, Administrator?”
Adolphus refused to be taunted. “I still have a great deal of admiration for this uniform. My intent is to be formal and respectful, as the Diadem requires of me . . . but not necessarily considerate.”
During the drive from the spaceport, Ishop Heer stared at the buildings and made silent notes about Michella Town as they passed through on the way to the outskirts and the General’s main house. He seemed to be drinking in details, filing them away, comparing them to expectations. The man launched his first volley. “After the stringline hauler docked, I spotted a suspicious amount of orbital activity, Administrator. None of the previous inspectors made note of your advanced surface-to-orbit capability.”
Adolphus cloaked his annoyance. Because the previous inspectors were all fools who could either be fooled or bribed outright . “Territorial Governor Goler always accepted my explanations without question.” Goler, whose jurisdiction covered eleven Deep Zone planets ranging from Ridgetop to Hallholme, actually chose to live out in the DZ rather than back on Sonjeera; the man made dutiful trips to Hallholme, Candela, and the other nine planets he administered . . . but he wasn’t the most observant person.
“If the Diadem accepted Governor Goler’s reports without reservation, then I wouldn’t be here,” Ishop said. “Hallholme has installed more satellites than any other Deep Zone world seems to need.”
Adolphus relaxed. “Fortunately, Mr Heer, the static storm you’re about to experience will give you a dramatic demonstration of exactly why we need the sats.” Above them, the sky had visibly sickened with the oncoming turmoil. “We have worse weather than any other DZ world. Our climatologists have to rewrite their models after each major storm.”
“When will it hit?” Ishop looked out to the darkening sky as they left the outer buildings of the colony town behind.
The driver turned around.
Good , Adolphus thought . . .
Back at the landing field, he had easily identified the Diadem’s spy. They all had a certain air about them, a self-important demeanor that kept others at a distance. The large-framed man was younger than his position of importance implied, and despite his physical size, he looked slick, with hyper-alert, pale green eyes; he was solid, not fat, and entirely bald. He wore an airmask over his mouth and nose, though such measures had never been proven necessary on Hellhole; he pulled thin filmgloves onto his hands. At first glance, Adolphus thought the man was a hypochondriac, paranoid about contamination . . . but then he changed his assessment. This man had an edge, a power in his confidence; he was not paranoid, but careful .
Wearing a full uniform and all his rebellion medals, the General had surprised the spy, smiling with brittle geniality as he introduced himself. Flustered to be spotted so quickly, the watchdog imperiously presented his credentials and put away a meticulous list he had been keeping. “I am Ishop Heer, representative of Diadem Michella Duchenet. Who informed you of this visit? How long have you known I was coming?”
Having met Heer’s type before, the General deftly evaded the question. “I have told the Diadem time and again that surprise inspections are unnecessary, since I have nothing to hide. I respect and abide by the terms of my exile. I follow every letter of my promises, because I am an honorable man. Diadem Michella knows that very well by now.”
“The Diadem cannot afford to make assumptions when it comes to the peace and security of the Constellation.” Ishop sniffed behind his breathing mask, scrutinizing the military outfit. He tucked his list in his pocket. “None of those medals are for service to the Constellation. Odd that you’d wear a defunct uniform. To serve as a reminder that your rebellion failed, Administrator?”
Adolphus refused to be taunted. “I still have a great deal of admiration for this uniform. My intent is to be formal and respectful, as the Diadem requires of me . . . but not necessarily considerate.”
During the drive from the spaceport, Ishop Heer stared at the buildings and made silent notes about Michella Town as they passed through on the way to the outskirts and the General’s main house. He seemed to be drinking in details, filing them away, comparing them to expectations. The man launched his first volley. “After the stringline hauler docked, I spotted a suspicious amount of orbital activity, Administrator. None of the previous inspectors made note of your advanced surface-to-orbit capability.”
Adolphus cloaked his annoyance. Because the previous inspectors were all fools who could either be fooled or bribed outright . “Territorial Governor Goler always accepted my explanations without question.” Goler, whose jurisdiction covered eleven Deep Zone planets ranging from Ridgetop to Hallholme, actually chose to live out in the DZ rather than back on Sonjeera; the man made dutiful trips to Hallholme, Candela, and the other nine planets he administered . . . but he wasn’t the most observant person.
“If the Diadem accepted Governor Goler’s reports without reservation, then I wouldn’t be here,” Ishop said. “Hallholme has installed more satellites than any other Deep Zone world seems to need.”
Adolphus relaxed. “Fortunately, Mr Heer, the static storm you’re about to experience will give you a dramatic demonstration of exactly why we need the sats.” Above them, the sky had visibly sickened with the oncoming turmoil. “We have worse weather than any other DZ world. Our climatologists have to rewrite their models after each major storm.”
“When will it hit?” Ishop looked out to the darkening sky as they left the outer buildings of the colony town behind.
The driver turned around.
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