Chaos Quarter: Imperial Ambitions Read online

  “What’s that?”

  “Everything I know about the Europan empire.”

  Rex raised an eyebrow. Considering that Lucius had spent the first twenty-one of his twenty-five years in the empire, what he knew about it could be no small thing.

  “You got your life story on there?”

  “Yes, all of it…every brutal detail.”

  “Sure you want me to see all that?” Rex asked.

  “No, but it is the right thing to do. If we are to potentially face imperials, you need to know everything about them you can. While the information your people have acquired is impressive, your data-stores lack human intelligence,” Lucius explained.

  “Well, the empire does tend to kill anybody who’s not supposed to be on their worlds,” Rex noted.

  “Indeed,” concurred Lucius.

  He handed the chit over to Rex, who took it and looked at it as if glancing at the thing could unlock the data inside.

  “You may think differently of me afterward,” Lucius warned.

  “I know what you were Lu,” said Rex. “You’re not that anymore.”

  “Saying what I have done and reading detailed descriptions of my crimes are two very different things,” said Lucius. “And it is all there. The debriefing was very thorough. They wanted to know it all, and I wanted them to know it all.”

  “Okay,” Rex said, sliding the chit into a slot on the terminal in front of him. He expected it to upload immediately into the ship’s computer, but instead a voice came.

  “The data contained herein is classified category four and cannot be uploaded. Direct access only is granted to Officer Rex Vahl and Mr. Lucius Alvadile,” the ship’s computer declared. Rex smiled at the sound of the voice. The datacores from Long Haul, those that had survived, had been transferred to this new ship. The computer even spoke in the same voice: a woman with an Australian accent.

  “Category four, eh?” Rex chuckled. “It must be something then.”

  “It is,” said Lucius coolly.

  “All right, all right,” Rex said. “I’ll go through it. It’ll be a few weeks just crossing the Commonwealth.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, seeing you look so dour puts me in mind of something,” said Rex.

  Lucius just gave him a look.

  “No, no, trust me. You’ll like it,” he continued. “Computer, play The Cool Roan Rider. I think it’s time to introduce Lucius to westerns.”

  “What is a ‘western’?” asked Lucius.

  “Frontier tales. Usually set in the western half of Earth’s North American continent in the years 1860 to 1900,” Rex explained.

  “That seems incredible specific for a genre,” Lucius remarked.

  “Well, that’s the classic western. But basically any frontier tale with a lone hero wearing an epic hat counts,” Rex said with a shrug.

  The movie appeared in from of them, on the viewscreen. A dust-covered man rode into the scene on the back of a blue roan mustang. He wore a black hat, a weathered vest, and glared out at the world through squinted eyes. People immediately moved out of his way as he walked through batwing doors into a saloon.

  “You’ll love this guy. He’s just like you. Barely says a word and has a huge problem telling people what his name is,” Rex said with a smirk. “And good with a gun, of course.”

  Lucius rolled his eyes and then leaned back in the seat to watch the movie.

  ***

  Rex didn’t stay for the whole movie. He left an enrapt Lucius just before the first big gunfight, all the swinging six shooters reminding him of something he needed to take care of. He walked back from the bridge, stopping in front of his door.

  “Where is Jake at?” he asked.

  “In his quarters,” the ship computer replied.

  “Is he awake?”

  A long moment went by.

  “I am unable to ascertain whether Jake is sleeping or not,” the computer said. Rex imagined there was a note of confusion in the machine’s voice, trying to figure out if his cyborg friend was awake or asleep. It was not an easy thing for a computer to ascertain. Jake, when not in the company of his many young female companions, slept standing up. It made no difference to mechanical muscles whether they were reclined or upright. And the ship’s computer was built to serve fully biological humans, not quirky synthetic ones.

  “Never mind,” said Rex. “I’ll find out on my own.”

  He moved down the port corridor two doors and knocked. He heard a thumping inside; then the door slid open and revealed Jake.

  “You up?” Rex asked.

  “Yeah. Otherwise I’m sleepwalking,” Jake replied.

  “Can you do that?”

  Jake cocked his head quizzically. “You know, I have no idea…”

  “Well, figure it out later. Got something you need to see.”

  Jake shrugged and followed him into the corridor. Rex moved down to his room, just off the bridge corridor. Jake followed him in.

  “Huh,” Jake said. “Doesn’t look any bigger than mine. And here I thought the captain got the big room.”

  “Two rooms,” Rex said, moving past the tiny bed to a door on the far side. He waved at a small panel and the door slid open, revealing another cabin exactly the same size as the rest on the ship.

  Except this one was dominated by a massive metallic form. It stood in a rack in the center of the room. It had the general shape of a man, but was easily eight feet tall, and bulged out in ways a man wouldn’t. Rails for mounting guns marked each forearm, and a small missile stood on a rack on one shoulder. It was done in a gray and black camouflage pattern, all very tactical looking.

  “Powered armor,” Jake said matter-of-factly.

  “Yes, I wanted you to see it.”

  “Why? Why is it even here? Aren’t these for marines and infantry and guys like that?”

  “Yes, but you see some of the guys upstairs aren’t entirely sure they can trust you…”

  Jake’s eyes widened with realization.

  “Oh,” he said quietly. “So this is in case you have to…”

  “Kill you,” said Rex.

  “I see,” Jake sighed. “Are you sure this is for me? I mean isn’t Lucius more likely to be a threat given his background?”

  “Probably, but Lucius isn’t seven feet tall and able to break a man in half. You however…”

  “Yeah,” said Jake. “I’m a big metal man, and everybody’s afraid I’m gonna go berserk and take over the ship, right?”

  “I wouldn’t say everybody,” Rex replied. “But somebody upstairs is, someone powerful enough to get this thing put on the ship despite the enormous amount of space it takes up.”

  “Well, just so you know, I don’t intend to go nuts and take over the ship.”

  “I know. And I have no intention of killing you,” Rex added.

  “If you did, you probably shouldn’t have shown me your giant armor suit,” Jake joked.

  “No,” Rex chuckled. “But I suppose I’d have to really trust you to show you this and blow any potential element of surprise.”

  “I suppose you would,” said Jake, grinning. “So that’s one of the Abrams Armaments SI-fives, right?”

  “Yes sir,” Rex replied. “The powered armor of the Commonwealth Army and Marine Corps.”

  “Awesome,” Jake said with a smile. “You mind if I look? I’ve never actually seen one up close, always wanted too.”

  “Go ahead,” Rex said with a shrug.

  Jake darted forward, poking at the suit like an excited child.

  Pirates are to be considered enemies of mankind and terminated on sight.

  —Section 7, Paragraph 164 of the Commonwealth Federal Security Act of 2391

  One of the main reasons the empire had so much troubling holding and securing its newly conquered worlds during the war was because 62 percent of Commonwealth citizens own a gun. And it turns out a bullet kills a nobleman as quickly as somebody without delusions of grandeur. I chuckle a litt
le when I think of Earl Gaius Hampton-D’Auxy-Leijonhielm getting shot down by a guerrilla fighter, who, until his world had been invaded, had been known to most as Bill from accounting.

  —Lecture given to students at New Michigan Institute of Technology by Professor Alejandro Ross, NMIT Recorded Lecture Series, Volume XXVIX, 2499

  Prezwalski System, Chaos Quarter, Standard Date 8/7/2507

  It had been just over one hundred light-years from the Lambda Aurigae system to the Commonwealth border. They had chosen a spot to enter the Quarter at five degrees-from-core, with zero degrees-from-core, or DFC for short, being an imaginary line drawn from Earth to the center of the galaxy. Longshot had a six-hour recharge time on its jump drive, which would mean that under its own power it faced, at minimum, twenty-six days of travel to make the distance.

  The Commonwealth, however, maintained jump stations at three hundred million miles from the suns of each of its systems, the general minimum safe distance. Any closer and the star’s gravity would warp jump paths and send you light-years from where you wanted to go. These jump stations had a dozen reactors each and constantly opened and closed wormholes from one point in space to another. Theoretically they could have used these stations to cross the Commonwealth in less than twenty-four hours, but traffic had reared its usual ugly head. So it had taken four days.

  That was long behind them now. They had entered the Chaos Quarter, where what passed for a jump station was a ship floating at the edge of a system opening a jump point every few hours. Nobody out here opened jump points too near habitable worlds; it made it too easy for people to disguise themselves as merchants and launch sneak attacks. Rex hadn’t bothered to use such slapdash methods anyhow. He’d used Longshot’s drive to make two jumps in two days.

  And here, not nine light-years into the Quarter, they’d run into their first batch of pirates. Well, to be precise, the current batch of assholes circling his ship were defenders of the “Realm of the High Protector,” whoever the hell he was supposed to be. Prezwalski system was dominated by a blue giant star. Beyond that it sported a half-dozen asteroid fields and the rocky cores of gas giants whose gas had been blown away long ago when the star had ballooned to its current massive size. So whatever the Realm of the High Protector was, it probably didn’t consist of more than a few old, mined-out tunnels inside of an asteroid., ruled by a delusional madman, of course; or an angry Buddhist; or an out-and-out pirate; or an aristocrat kicked off some hardscrabble world for claiming he was the “true” heir to the throne; or some general who’d gone rouge—any one of a dozen types, really. It didn’t matter all that much.

  “How I missed this place…” Rex muttered.

  A makeshift fighter streaked past the viewscreen. The craft was a runabout from a pleasure yacht with a few machine guns strapped onto it. What kind of idiot brought a yacht out here?

  “Fifty-caliber fire is impacting our starboard hull,” his computer spoke.

  “Got it,” Lucius spoke. A hologram floated over his station, showing him the view from the gun camera of the starboard defensive turret. Dull vibrations ran through the ship as the starboard turret fired.

  “He is dead,” Lucius said a second later.

  A second fighter moved to the front of their ship. This one was a bulky, rectangular ore-hauler with a large-looking gun sticking off one corner. It maneuvered painfully slowly, not designed for combat.

  Lucius shifted his attention to the new attacker, lining up the forward pulse cannons. He squeezed the trigger on his control lever, spewing two dozen white bursts of energy at the enemy. At nearly half the speed of light, the bolts were almost too quick to see. They punched through the thin metal of the ore-hauler fighter, destroying the electronics and frail human pilots. The fighter went dead, floating listlessly toward Longshot.

  Rex nudged the ship to the right, clearing the vessel.

  “Wasn’t there a third one?” Rex asked.

  Another series of dull vibrations filled the ship; one of the turrets was auto firing. Dull pinging sounds joined the chorus, the small bullets of their attacker bouncing harmlessly off the ship’s armor. Then the pings stopped.

  “The third attacker has been destroyed,” the computer informed.

  “She beat ya to it,” Rex said, turning to Lucius.

  Lucius’s mouth tightened into a faint scowl. The man never showed any emotion big that he could do little. Rex knew him well enough to know it bugged him. He was a better shot than the computer. Longshot would most likely have a half-dozen extra shells for the rear turret had Lucius done the job.

  “No enemies remain in range,” the computer announced.

  “I see nothing either,” Second concurred.

  Rex turned and saw Second on the upper tier of the bridge. She had taken to the scanning station, though nobody had specifically told her to. Most likely she’d been driven by her not-so-subconscious urge to have a function as part of the crew. Rex didn’t really mind. The computer probably could have run the ship with just him alone, but it was still best to have people around. Machines had such terrible intuition.

  “Thank you, Second,” he replied.

  The ship’s intercom crackled to life.

  “We dead?” asked Jake from wherever in the ship he happened to be.

  “No,” Rex replied.

  “’Kay then,” the cyborg replied. The line went dead.

  Things were quiet for a moment.

  “Are we going to continue my lesson?” Second asked.

  Rex perked up, remembering what they’d been planning before the pirates had shown up.

  “Yes. Computer, anything manmade within radar range?” Rex asked.

  They waited as the computer broadcast radio waves from the ship. Seconds ticked by.

  “Nothing in range,” the computer replied.

  “All right, Second; let’s go.”

  He got to his feet. Second followed, as did Lucius. Today’s lesson in teaching Second how to function like a human being was something he wouldn’t want to miss.

  They made their way to the cargo bay descending the metal staircase to its floor. The vast chamber stretched 150 feet in length and was 100 feet high and 160 feet wide. Along one wall was a line of square crates, five feet on a side. They were plain wood, packed to the brim with grain. It was wheat mostly, the Forever Wheat that most of the more civilized nations grew. Genetically modified to be incredibly resistant to mold or decay, the harvested grains could be kept edible for fifty years or more if kept in a dry place. They had enough food in that line of crates to get the attention of merchants, but that was about it. Most of the cargo bay remained empty.

  They had put the vast emptiness to work in other ways. Near the lower hallway into the crew quarters of the ship Rex had set up a hammock, two chaises, and a fire bowl. The ship’s scrubbers were more than up to the task of removing the smoke. In front of that was a bench with a twenty-two-caliber target rifle sitting on it, loaded with rubber-tipped bullets. One hundred forty feet away they’d tacked a target onto a wooden crate. The massive cargo bay doors rose behind it.

  Rex wondered if it was too early to put a gun in this woman’s hands, but was pushed by necessity. The Chaos Quarter was, by any objective standard, chaos. Armed people tended to do better in such environments than unarmed ones.

  He realized that nobody had spurred her to finish the lesson. She’d asked for herself. That was a step in the right direction. On some level she had figured out desire.

  “Okay, remember the safety rules for these things?” Rex said, motioning her toward the weapon. Lucius stood a few feet back, watching.

  “I remember the rules, yes,” she said and then paused. “But something does not make sense. If we are not to aim at something unless we intend to kill it, how can I aim at the target? The target is not alive. It cannot be killed.”

  “Inanimate objects have no feelings, so it doesn’t matter if you shoot them,” Rex replied.

  “I know,” she replied, a hint of s
tubbornness in her voice. “But how can we desire them to die if they were never alive?”

  “Uh, we can’t,” Rex said. “We desire them destroyed.”

  “All of them?” she asked.

  Lucius rolled his eyes and held back a smirk.

  “No, just the ones we want destroyed,” Rex explained.

  “How do I tell the difference?”

  At this moment Jake clomped into the room, cleaning something off the electroactive-fiber “skin” of his hands. He took one look at the situation and cracked the grin Lucius was so gamely fighting to hold back.

  “Another life lesson?” Jake asked.

  “Second wants to know how we know what inanimate objects we wish to destroy,” Rex said with a sigh.

  “Do I destroy him?” she asked hesitantly, nodding her head toward Jake.

  “No, Second, we’ve been over this. Jake is a person.”

  “His body is metal. Metal is not alive,” she reasoned.

  “There’s a human brain running the show; that’s what’s important,” Rex said.

  “Strictly speaking, your body is just carbon. Carbon isn’t alive,” Jake added in and then shrugged. “At least I don’t think it is. I forget how you fleshlings work.”

  Second looked down at her chest, deep in concentration.

  “Second, do not destroy your body,” Rex said before she could ask. “That’s your only one now, remember?”

  “Yes,” she said obediently. “But I still do not understand.”

  “Just shoot the target Second,” Rex sighed, rubbing at his brow.

  She stared at her chest for a few more seconds and then turned to the distant target. She raised the gun and squeezed the trigger. Rex’s mechanical eye magnified in on the target. She was two inches from the bull’s-eye.

  “How did you do that?” he asked.

  “I aimed at the middle,” she said innocently.

  “And you’ve never fired a gun before?” Rex asked.

  She cocked her head quizzically and then said, “I killed the ambassador with your shot—”