Hellhole by Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson Page B

the locals were fiercely loyal to Adolphus for what he had done. Vincent figured he was about to see a different side of the story. Still, he was a bit nervous.
    Sophie Vence had arranged their transportation out to the General’s residence, and Fernando marveled at the impressive house. “Can you believe it? It’s a mansion – a mansion , right here on Hellhole. He must have these people under his thumb.” He bent over to sniff a thorny flower blooming in a large clay urn on the porch, then winced at the vinegary scent.
    An aide ushered them inside. “Gentlemen. The General is expecting you. Madame Vence speaks highly of both of you.”
    They walked along tiled floors with carpeted runners, past a paneled banquet room and a handful of staff offices. The aide ushered them into an expansive study lined with bookshelves and glass display cases. Out of habit, Vincent brushed down his hair, straightened his shirt. He swallowed hard.
    The man seated at his desk, hard at work, was immediately recognizable from numerous news stories and propaganda images. General Tiber Adolphus scanned records from his factories and scattered mining installations across the continent. He used a deskscreen to assign work teams and transmitted new instructions to offices in Michella Town, open-pit excavations, and industrial complexes that stretched for kilometers around.
    Looking up from his work, Adolphus gave them a formal smile. Fernando pumped the General’s hand. “Thank you for seeing us, sir. You won’t be sorry you took the time.”
    Vincent added with a respectful nod. “We appreciate the opportunity, sir.” He vividly recalled the reports of widespread unrest, battles on numerous Crown Jewel worlds, Commodore Hallholme’s victorious last stand against the rebel forces, and the much-despised and vilified Adolphus facing his court-martial. Those were the things Vincent remembered about this man.
    Here, though, Adolphus did not look beaten or disgraced; rather, he appeared content, strong, full of personal power. “This planet may seem to have little to offer, gentlemen, but we reap what we can. I have financed roads, shelters, factories, power plants, mines, and schools . . . though we don’t have a large population of children quite yet.” He leaned forward and shoved documents aside. “When Diadem Michella dispatched me here, she intended for Hallholme to be my prison, but I refuse to think of it in those terms. We’ve already made this into a planet that’s worth something – to us if no one else – and I’m determined to make it even better.”
    “Hear, hear!” Fernando said. “And we’d like to help you make that happen, sir. You’ll find that Vincent and I are dedicated workers.”
    Vincent cleared his throat nervously. “That’s the truth, sir.”
    “No one comes to this planet expecting a vacation, and it is my practice to offer jobs to all newcomers. We have to make our settlements strong and viable. We have more work than we have colonists, which is why we ask for a year of community service, during which time you’ll have food and lodging. At the end of the year, you can strike out on your own, or if you enjoy your work, you can continue to act as my employee. My aides will help you find something tailored to your talents and skills.”
    Fernando beamed. “We came here to make a new start.”
    The General regarded them with raised eyebrows. “I’ve reviewed your files, gentlemen, and I know exactly why you’ve joined us.”
    Vincent felt shame for what he had done, but Adolphus’s words carried little sting. The General continued, “Hallholme attracts many misfits. It’s a challenge to mold such fiercely independent and – let’s face it – eccentric people into a team that works for the good of everyone. The harsh environment forces cooperation. To tame this wild world, we need education, transportation, commerce, widespread agriculture, high-end medical facilities, industry, a functional