Chaos Quarter: Imperial Ambitions Page 42

  It all made sense when he thought about it. But then he remembered his transmission, the one that had drawn the soldiers away from Rex. They had to have heard it on their transports, had to have rebroadcast it back to their command units. If this ship had been inbound then, if it had been within thirty-some light minutes of the planet when the transmission went out…they would already know. They would know he was here. That would be reason enough to come after them.

  “Set course for the nearest, safe jump point, maximum burn.”

  “Laid in. It will take three and a half hours to—”

  The voice hung up for a moment, as if pausing to think.

  “Small alterations have been detected in the vessel’s course,” the computer declared.

  “They’re coming for us,” Lucius groused.

  “It appears likely, based on the alterations, that they are in pursuit.”

  “How long until they overtake us?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  “At our current speed, they will intercept us in fifty-seven minutes,” the computer replied.

  “One hour…” he said, shaking his head. All they had fought to achieve, all for nothing. They had one hour before a Europan warship would blast them out of the void.

  It was just then that he noticed a small flashing light. It wasn’t part of the holograms; it was on the console screen in front of him. He tapped it, and an image of the sick bay came up, floating in front of him. His eyes widened in horror. Calidus was loose, with what looked like a scalpel in his hand, and Helen was walking in. Before Lucius could even register it, Calidus was on her, the blade to her neck.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me Calidus had escaped his cuffs?” Lucius roared, jumping to his feet.

  “There was no sensor placed on his cuffs. I was not instructed to monitor Calidus Vasa—”

  “Fine, fine!” he roared, pulling his gun from its holster. There was no point in asking now. In the chaos following Calidus’s interrogation, a lot of things had begun going south quickly—easy enough to forget a detail. And advanced as the ship’s computer may be, it still wouldn’t do what it wasn’t ordered to.

  He got to his feet, ready to storm out. But a new image on the cameras stopped him. The militia had arrived. At least three had guns on Calidus, who backed up slowly, toward the bridge, his knife never leaving Helen’s neck. A heartbeat later Rex appeared, alongside Jake, Cindy, and a haggard-looking Keith. Lucius gazed at them, and then down at his gun…Then he smiled.

  Man points a gun at someone and starts shouting, he ain’t the one you gotta fear. It’s the one that don’t bother shoutin’ that should really get you worried.

  —Sherriff Chance Jackson, The Cool Roan Rider, Veximilion Studios, 2478

  Anglesey System, Chaos Quarter, Standard Date 9/4/2507

  Rex climbed gingerly out of his suit. Jake had unlatched the limbs and torso, swinging them open and giving him enough room to pull himself out. He swayed a bit as he stood, his feet readjusting to his own sense of balance.

  “Thanks,” he said, stretching his back.

  “You look like you got the worst of it,” Jake said, gesturing to the suit where it lay on the floor. Rex frowned as he gazed over the blackened, pockmarked metal skin of what had once been a one-million-dollar suit of powered armor.

  “I hope they don’t give me crap for that,” Rex said. “Could just see some bureaucrat—”

  A gurgling cough interrupted him. He turned, seeing Kate. She lay sprawled out on her father’s lap, glassy eyes turned toward the ceiling, unfocused. Blood trailed from her mouth, a lot of it. Keith clutched her right hand, his other arm slung around her shoulders. Nobody tried to help her; there was no need. From the amount of blood that soaked her shirt, it was clear that nothing could be done.

  Keith’s face was stern, but soaked with tears. He didn’t dare move, didn’t even take his eyes off from his daughter’s face. He just watched and held on. Kate’s chest rose and fell, almost imperceptibly. It rose a half-dozen times, and then it didn’t. Kate’s body relaxed in Keith’s arms, and it was over.

  “Damn,” Rex whispered. He looked away, toward the cargo bay. Stretching out in front of him was a mass of humanity, hundreds of people crammed into every space available. Some were sprawled out like Kate, motionless or struggling for breath. He noted that they were mostly in armor, the wounded. They were the militia who had managed to make it to the ship. Until moments ago they had been protecting the civilians; now the civilians stood protectively around them.

  “It could’ve been much worse,” Cindy said, walking up.

  “You sure? Looks pretty bad,” said Rex.

  “I know,” Cindy said, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “But there are at least five hundred people here, probably more. Most of the town made it to the ship.”

  “Most…” Rex sighed.

  His eyes alighted on Second. She was a few feet back from the barricade, pulling at her armor. She winced as she tried to pull it over her head, no doubt in pain from the bullet she’d taken. He strode over, grabbing the shoulders of the vest and pulling it above her head. This made him wince in pain, but it helped her. She exhaled in relief, favoring her left side. Carefully she stood up—

  And launched herself at Rex. He caught her in his arms, grimacing as she banged up against his bruised ribs. She grimaced as well, aggravating her own bruises. He ignored, it and clutched her tight to him.

  “You shouldn’t have left the ship,” he whispered. “Next time, please, stay on the ship.”

  “I-I did not intend—”

  “I know. I know you didn’t. It’s okay,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “I failed,” she said. “It was Jake who—”

  “That doesn’t matter, Second,” he said. She squeezed tighter against his chest, the feel of her fingers cool against his skin. He realized, for the first time since getting out of the suit, that he was standing in a room full of hundreds of people in nothing but his boxer shots. Any other time he would’ve found the humor in it, or wondered why Second was not drawing an inappropriate conclusion from it. Now he felt kind of awkward, given all that had just happened, all that was happening around him.

  “Guess I should get dressed,” he said, breaking from her.

  Second cocked her head quizzically, clearly noticing his state of affairs for the first time. She moved to say something, when a shout went up, followed by another. It came from above. A militiaman ran out, to the top of the port stairwell.

  “He’s got Helen! The Europan’s got Helen!” the man roared.

  Angry shouts filled the room, the refugees all glaring up at the messenger, surging. Rex took off for the stairwell, Jake’s pounding footfalls following him. They got there quickly, before any consensus could build among the refugees. Rex’s shins burned as he made it up the stairs in long bounds, his ribs jarring painfully with each leap. At the top he darted past the messenger, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Cindy and Keith were racing behind Jake, following him.

  Shouts filled the corridors.

  “Let her go! You let her go!” came one.

  “Baliol! Open the fucking door or this pregger bitch dies right here!” came another, Calidus.

  “I said, let her go! There’s no way out of this, so fucking let her go!” came a third voice, Ken’s from the sound of it.

  Rex sighed, glad that the Europan in question was Calidus and not Lucius. He had no doubts as to his gunner’s loyalty, but he wasn’t so sure one of the militia wouldn’t conveniently “misread” the situation.

  They rounded a corner, coming to the common room. Rex slowed, moving out toward the short corridor that ran to the bridge. He hesitated a moment, realizing that he was completely unarmed, and unarmored. But he moved out all the same, taking up a spot next to Ken. He and two of his men had their rifles on Calidus, who stood by the door to the bridge. He was pressed against one wall so that he was out of the line of fire should the bridge door open. The Eur
opan kept the scalpel in his hand tight against Helen’s neck. Helen took ragged breaths, looking more angry than frightened.

  “Back!” roared Calidus. “Stay back or I’ll—”

  “‘Kill the pregger bitch’—yeah, we heard you the first time,” Rex snapped. He should have felt the seriousness of the situation more, but it all struck him as grimly farcical. Hadn’t they just done this? Hadn’t he just talked Vermella out of puncturing Second’s neck? Did the evil bastards of the world not have any new ideas? Or did they just have a thing for the classics?

  Or did he just have no other options…

  “I am not joking, Terran. I’ve put down plenty of animals before today. This one and her whelp are nothing to me,” Calidus sneered.

  “Well, they are your only leverage,” Rex said with a shrug. “You kill her, you die—that simple. These people aren’t going to let you off this ship alive, one way or the other.”

  “You put this ship back on the ground, and surrender to the empire. Then she will live, and live rightly, in her proper place,” Calidus declared.

  Rex decided to keep pushing.

  “You think I’m going to trade two lives for several hundred? Is that the kind of math they teach you in imperial spy school?” Rex pressed.

  “Make all the quips you want; those are my terms. You Terran rabble claim to value the lives of serfs, so live up to your words. Put this ship down; and they all live,” said Calidus.

  “We’d crash the ship before we let that happen,” said Cindy from behind him, pistol in hand.

  “What she said,” Rex said, mentally praying that Cindy did not actually try to crash the ship.

  Calidus’s eyes narrowed, locking in on Keith. From the change of expression, it was clear he had decided on another track.

  “Half man, talk sense to these animals. You want her to live? You want to live? Put this ship down, and I’ll convince my betters that you were forced to go along with all this,” Calidus offered.

  “You really think that’s going to work?” barked Cindy.

  “I think he can speak for himself,” snapped Calidus. “So what say you, warrior? All you were once given, all yours again—the power, the position, all of it, all yours.”

  Keith’s hand tightened around the stock of his gun. Rex prayed he didn’t lose it and squeeze the trigger.

  “You gave me nothing worth having,” Keith answered, his voice inhumanely cold and heavy. His expression was one that went beyond rage, to something devoid of all mercy, all humanity. Rex stared at the man nervously. To lose a daughter, to watch her die in your arms, and then to see your wife and unborn child on the edge like this…he didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what all that could do to a man. He had the feeling every second that ticked by was pushing Keith toward a place few ever returned from. They had to end this now.

  Make noise.

  Rex did a double take. The ship’s computer hadn’t spoken the words. They hadn’t been spoken at all; they’d been floating, right in front of his field of vision. He tried to figure it out when Jake pushed to the front of the group, aggressively shoving people aside to confront Calidus.

  “Oh can we just be done with this already!” Jake bellowed. “I am sick to death of listening to this worthless worm!”

  All eyes shifted to Jake, whose massive chest rose and fell dramatically with each breath. Rex was too stunned by the outburst to really register it. Had Jake, laid-back, easygoing Jake, just gone alpha dog? With Helen a quick jerk away from bleeding out? What the hell was he thinking?

  “Jake, are you insane?” cried Cindy.

  “Back away from him, cyborg,” growled Keith.

  “Just everyone stay calm, all right!” shouted Ken.

  Make noise.

  The words again, in his field of vision, in his left eye.

  Your mechanical eye!

  Make noise enough to cover me, and get him in the center of the corridor.

  Lucius, you clever bastard…

  “Seriously? We just killed, like, seven hundred people and we’re gonna sit here afraid of this little prick? It’s crazy!” Jake roared.

  “Be quiet, Jake!” snapped Keith.

  “No!” shouted Rex, striding forward. “No, Jake’s right! I think it’s time we put an end to all of this! I’m not gonna have some whinny little Europan puke telling me what to do on my own ship. Fuck this guy! Fuck him sideways!”

  “Damn right; fuck him sideways!” Jake bellowed.

  “Get back!” warned Calidus.

  “Rex, Jake, if you get my wife killed—” Keith seethed.

  “Aw, he’s too much of a pussy to actually do it! Knows he won’t last two seconds with her gone. Doesn’t want to get killed by a bunch of ‘feral beasts.’ No! Not a noble like him! Just watch.”

  Rex stepped forward besides Jake. Calidus’s eyes went wide with rage. He surged forward, into the middle of the corridor, the scalpel pressing just hard enough to break the skin. Drips of blood leaked down.

  “I am not bluffing, Terran,” Calidus sneered.

  “Oh, look at the big man,” said Jake, laughing derisively. “You know he means business now!”

  “I swear to God!” fumed Calidus. “Back off or I’ll spill—”

  A shot rang out. Calidus’s head jerked awkwardly. His body went limp, the scalpel falling from his hands. He lurched forward, knocking Helen toward the gang. Jake caught her, careful to grab her with arms outstretched, so her swollen belly didn’t smash up against his solid form.

  A new blaze of light filled the corridor, light from the bridge. Lucius stood in the open doorway, pistol in hand. Shocked faces stared at him for a long moment, and then reluctant smiles began to form.

  Lucius stepped forward and looked at Helen. She was on her feet now, in Keith’s arms instead of Jake’s. Her eyes met Lucius’s.

  “Consider that an argument in my favor,” Lucius muttered.

  Helen said nothing, just stared at him for a long second, probing him. He did not avert his eyes, just stood over the body of his former countryman. Finally Keith moved Helen away, back past the common room, toward the cargo bay.

  “We have trouble,” Lucius said when she was gone.

  “What? More?” Jake asked.

  “Of course more,” Rex grumbled. He laughed darkly. “Is it ever anything else?”

  “What kind of trouble?” Cindy asked.

  “A warship. Haven’t got the make yet, but based on its speed, it is at least a frigate,” Lucius spoke.

  “Let me guess; it’s following us?” Rex asked.

  “At one-fifth light speed,” Lucius said. “We’ll be overtaken in an hour, well before we’re far enough from the system’s star to safely jump.”

  The corridor fell silent, the freedmen and freedwomen shaking their heads, trying to will themselves into not believing it.

  “There has to be some sort of way…” said Cindy.

  “We can’t outrun a Europan warship,” Ken said, defeat settling into his eyes. “Nobody can.”

  “Well, I don’t care!” Cindy fumed. “I’m not just going to wait around to die! There has to be a way out of this!”

  “There is,” Rex asserted. “I just haven’t thought of it yet. Now, Lucius, how long exactly until our new friends have us in range?”

  “Fifty minutes or so,” said Lucius.

  “Right, plenty of time,” Rex said, and turned from the group. He headed for his cabin.

  “Plenty of…what? What are you doing?” cried Cindy.

  “Getting dressed,” Rex called back. “Impossible to think up a way to save ours asses with your eyes all over me, gets me all distracted.”

  With that he disappeared into his cabin, leaving a slack-jawed Cindy behind him.

  ***

  Forty minutes later he sat in his pilot’s chair, dressed, poised, and drawing a blank. They’d spent the last forty minutes in tense silence, the image of their pursuer on the screen. It was a Schiavona-class destroyer, one of the empire
’s newer ship classes. Like its smaller frigate cousins, it was shaped like a pancake with a disk-shaped bite taken out of the front, though it was more elongated that the frigates. According to the computer, it was 890 feet long, 565 feet wide, and 240 feet thick—more than three times the size of Longshot. The destroyer looked like a football in cross section, especially the way it bulged in the middle. Those were its decks, where the crew lived, worked, and plotted the doom of tiny ships like his.

  And that doom was assured if he didn’t come up with something. The Schiavona ships had seventeen forward pulse cannons, seven medium-sized guns, and ten light guns. And each of the “light” guns was twice as powerful as the ones he had. The Europans used a hit-and-run tactical doctrine, designed to take advantage of their impressive speed and minimize the weaknesses their relatively thin armor presented. Ships like the one following him were designed to fly in at one-fifth the speed of light, slow to combat speed, launch a huge barrage, and then burn the hell out of there as fast as they could. They might as well have been fighters, the way the Europans flew them.

  Of course, they didn’t even have to use the old-fashioned pulse barrage if they didn’t want to. They had three quad-mount missile launchers, with probably ninety-odd missiles waiting inside. Which meant they could wing off twelve ship-killer missiles at once. It would only take one to cripple Longshot, two to destroy it entirely. They’d used all their Tanager point-defense missiles, and most of the ammo for the turrets, back on the planet, so they had no real way of intercepting whatever was fired their way. The dorsal and ventral turrets had slugs remaining, but they weren’t much use when you were being attacked from behind.