Chaos Quarter

by Welch, David

  The War-beast shrugged off the fire, its two forward rail-guns hurling large projectiles at its enemies. The shots were overkill, designed for use against large ships. Two of the corvettes exploded, their remains rocketing off into space in every conceivable direction. The other two corvettes ducked below the bioship, spinning upward and firing into the War-beast’s undersides. Defensive fire answered their assault, slamming into the attackers. The lead corvette was hit again and again, chunks of the vessel being torn off, until finally it floated away, dead. The remaining vessel pulled away, spinning to its left to face the Europan frigate.

  Only two fighters remained, the others taken down by the Severn’s point-defense cannons. They grouped with the frigate and made a run toward the bioship’s rear. As they did, the Severn maneuvered. Another dozen fighters were approaching, so the frigate turned and accelerated away in pursuit of its quarry. The War-beast moved to follow, its defensive guns destroying the final corvette as it moved to attack. The remaining fighters tore up its carapace with fire and then fell away as the War-beast moved to pursue its Europan rival.

  While they fought, Rex pulled into the system’s asteroid belt, after ten minute’s flight at full burn. The Byzantine attack had bought them those precious minutes. Rex had no doubt that by now the warships following him had shaken off their attackers and moved to pursue.

  So he looked, scanning space for any rock big enough to swallow the ship. A few particularly bright stars, actually water-ice asteroids catching the glint of the system’s sun, met his gaze. The rest of the rocks were dull and shrouded in darkness. But luckily the ship’s sensors and scopes saw better than his eyes ever could.

  “Seventy thousand miles from our bow is an asteroid eight miles in diameter,” the computer announced.

  He adjusted course, moving for the rock. Lucius sat nervously at the weapons station, ready to fire.

  “How did you know that the locals would attack?” Lucius asked.

  “I didn’t,” replied Rex. “I figured when our ‘friends’ realized they were chasing the same guy, they’d blast away at each other. Byzantines must have figured what better time to attack?”

  Lucius nodded, watching as Rex maneuvered the ship toward the asteroid and into a large crater, at least half a mile in diameter. It faced away from the sun, shrouded entirely in dark shadows. The viewscreen had to shift to a false-color radar-based image to let Rex maneuver.

  “You’re betting that they’ll not want to stop and search the belt?” Lucius inquired.

  “They have the Byzantines hounding them so long as they wait around. Enough bee-stings can kill even the strongest man,” Rex explained.

  “Sobieski might leave, but that bioship has followed us almost across the whole of the Quarter,” Lucius pointed out.

  “Well, hopefully while they’re looking, the Byzantines will do enough damage to force them to leave,” spoke Rex.

  “Or wear them down enough to make this fight even,” Lucius continued.

  “Power of positive thinking,” Rex said with a smile. A tremor ran through the ship as it touched down on the crater floor.

  “Kill all external lights,” Rex ordered. The computer complied. Rex leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes to relax. Angry shouts interrupted his reverie. Memories of his newly insane crew-member flashed through his mind.

  “What’s that old saying about rest for the weary?” he asked.

  Lucius shrugged, saying, “I’ve heard of no such phrase.”

  Rex rolled his eyes.

  “Of course not,” he grumbled, moving toward the main corridor. “The bridge is yours!”

  * * *

  The War-beast’s eyes magnified images, bringing rock after rock to Blair’s eye. The primitives called such things asteroid fields, but when you were actually in one, it didn’t look much different from empty space. Even in a high density formation like this one, the vastness of space meant that the asteroids of this field could be tens of thousands of miles apart from each other. At ten thousand miles distance, a grey rock a few miles long didn’t look like much.

  The fact that the indigenous primitives mined these asteroids didn’t help matters. His sifters were now swirling amidst proton traces from dozens of ships, all jumbled together. Some were from vessels long gone; some couldn’t be more than an hour old. Now, with an Europan close-by and a horde of angry locals in pursuit, he had to stop and try to sort through this mess.

  “The Europan primitives are holding six miles off port,” Flynn spoke from his command pod.

  “Waiting to see what we do,” Blair concluded.

  “They have yet to actually shoot at us,” Flynn noted.

  Blair nodded to himself. The local ‘Byzantines’ had done the attack. The Europans had only acted in self-defense, not targeting any of their weapons at his War-beast. Their commander was careful, possibly not willing to risk a war with an unknown power over one ship. This made Blair reconsider the situation. How important was the body to them? Were they even aware of it? They’d spoken of a traitor to their people aboard the ship. It was possible they didn’t even know of Ambassador Cody and his Second.

  It occurred to him that both parties might be able to get what they wanted, if the War-beast got to the ship first. His warriors could take Cody’s body on-board and turn over the primitive traitor to his people. He could fulfill his mission and buy some goodwill from one of the few primitive nations that could threaten his people. Such an action could even convince Him to reward Blair greatly.

  However, if they found it first and discovered that body alongside their traitor, they might not be so ready to give it back. Knowledge of Cody’s body could bring them advantage in any future conflict, or at minimum deliver them a propaganda weapon to use against the Hegemony.

  Blair paused for a moment, weighing the options.

  “Move to inspect the nearest asteroid,” he finally ordered. “And have all rail-guns stand by.”

  * * *

  “Sire, they’re moving toward the nearest asteroid. We’re detecting emissions consistent with scanning,” a tech spoke.

  “Move to pursue. Keep at present distance,” Julius ordered.

  His Second-In-Command approached, nodding respectfully before speaking.

  “Sire, our speed is significantly greater than theirs. We can double their performance and potentially find Baliol first,” he spoke.

  “And if they find him first, we’ll be thousands of miles away,” Julius replied. “We will be patient. If they hand over Baliol upon discovery, we will depart peacefully and not plunge the empire into war.”

  “And if they do not, sire?” his Second-In-Command asked predictably.

  “Then we shall make known to them the consequences of angering the Almighty’s Own People.”

  * * *

  She pounded the lifeless body furiously, her fists striking his ribs again and again. Her knuckles were raw from the repeated blows, but she didn’t stop.

  “Second?” Rex asked, stepping carefully into the sick bay.

  She screamed—a primal roar of pain and rage that chilled his blood.

  “It has to die! It has to die!” she bellowed.

  Outside, Quintus began to wail. Rex rushed up to Second, grabbing her from behind in a bear-hug. She struggled, furiously trying to get back at the ambassador.

  Rex slowly walked backward, dragging her out of the medical bay. He ordered the door closed and pulled her toward a couch in the common area.

  “Kill it!” she roared.

  “He’s already dead!” Rex replied. He sat down, but she continued struggling. She fell backward until she was sitting on his lap, enclosed in his vice-like grip.

  “How can it be dead?” she asked, thrashing from side to side. “How can it be dead?! We have to kill it!”

  Quintus’s screams muffled. Chakrika must have brought him into her cabin, away from the noise. Second continued her bellowing.

  “It—he’s already dead,” Rex repeated. “He�
��s dead, Second. He can’t hurt you or touch you. He’s dead.”

  “How can it be dead,” she repeated. “How can it be dead, dead…”

  “You were there, Second. He was crushed, remember? On Cordelia? During the attack?”

  Her breath steadied, still heavy, but not quite so ragged. Her muscles relaxed a bit.

  “He was crushed,” she spoke. “Was he crushed enough?”

  “What?” Rex asked.

  “Did it crush him enough?” she said, the hyperventilation beginning again. “It can’t be dead if it wasn’t crushed enough!”

  “Second, I know not much makes sense right now. We’re going to help you understand all this, but trust me when I say the ambassador is dead—”

  “Rex,” Lucius’s voice came over the intercom. ”We seem to have visitors.”

  Rex sighed again, releasing his grasp. Second stumbled forward a few steps, regained her balance, and then stood, motionless. She had the posture of a scared child. For all intents and purposes, she was.

  “I—I’ll be back later,” Rex spoke. “I promise, Second. Just sit here, please.”

  He dashed back toward the bridge, hearing her mumble as he went.

  “…how can it be dead…”

  A heavy weight filled his chest.

  * * *

  “Are you sure the sifters followed the right trace?” Blair asked, staring at the large asteroid before him. A large crater, dominated by shadows, filled his view.

  “The primitives of this star put out a trail quite different from our prey,” Flynn spoke. “It was minimally difficult to tell one from the other.”

  “And the Europans?” asked Blair.

  Flynn could not reply. Blair knew nothing he could say would be good. The Europans had gone off-scanner, but had to be near, to try and stop him from capturing the ship should he find it first. Blair smiled, an idea coming.

  “Fire one shot, away from the crater.”

  * * *

  The asteroid shook from the impact. A plume of pulverized rock ejected from the surface, fanning out into space. Some particles drifted down into the crater, captured by the asteroid’s weak gravity. The rest floated away into the void.

  Lucius cocked his head quizzically.

  “They think we’re hiding on the surface? Bathed in sunlight?” he asked.

  “No,” Rex said, “That shot wasn’t for us…”

  * * *

  “There they are, sire!” a tech shouted.

  “Close in on their exposed flank. I want four missiles in space and locked on their position!” Gaius ordered.

  Severn surged forward in space, its missile launchers loading and firing off four Slattern missiles in quick succession. A light anti-ship missile with a 475-pound warhead, the Slattern was designed to damage large ships or kill if used in mass. The missiles streaked forward, doubling the ship’s speed.

  But instead of the exposed flank of the bioship, they found its bristling front. Tentacles whipped out from the surface, slicing through three of the missiles, sending their broken bodies hurtling off into space. The fourth struck home, driving into the port-side ‘claw’ of the ship before exploding. The blast tore through the armored plates of the War-beast, hurtling shrapnel and fire into one of the forward rail-guns, crippling the weapon.

  The bioship’s other guns opened fire, flinging large projectiles at a tenth the speed of light. The frigate replied in kind, bolts of pulse fire streaking forward. Large and small bolts slammed into the front of the bioship, tearing away armor.

  Then the War-beast’s projectiles hit. The frigate shuddered from the impact of the heavy weapons, two shots tearing through its light armor and into the guts of the ship. The frigate maneuvered above its enemy. The bioship’s defensive rail-guns let loose in a hail of fire. Explosions rippled across the bottom of the frigate, blinking out as they came into contact with vacuum. As they cleared, a checkerboard-pattern of craters became visible on Severn’s underside, great cracks in the armor radiating outward from the impacts.

  Severn pulled past the slower War-beast, another one of its missiles striking the bioship’s topside, just in front of the engines. The War-beast lurched from the blow, but continued maneuvering, turning to face the frigate. The Europan ship pulled a hard loop, moving to come down on the bioship from above. But the wounded vessel moved without its customary speed, two of its damaged engines belching only flame and fire into space.

  Instead of putting all its forward guns against the bioship’s weaker dorsal-side, the frigate found itself once again head-to-head with the larger War-beast.

  Both ships opened fire.

  * * *

  As the various pursuing super-powers bashed away at each other, Rex put his plan into motion.

  “Come on damn it, go faster, you sluggish bitch!”

  “The ship’s engines are exceeding 100 percent designed thrust,” the computer spoke.

  “That frigate has the speed to catch us, even if we had a head-start of several hours,” Lucius spoke, calmly sitting at his station.

  “Better hope they lose, then,” Rex replied, pressing Long Haul to flee even faster.

  “And if they don’t—”

  The ship rocked, something impacting the dorsal hull. A trio of Byzantine fighters swooped past. Dart-like in shape, they peppered Long Haul with cannon-fire.

  “God damn it!” Rex bellowed.

  The computer jumped into action, while Lucius slaved his station to the rear turret. Thirty millimeter rounds spat from the ship’s guns, lacing the void with tracers. Three fighters formed against them, coming in for an attack on their engines, swooping up from beneath.

  Rex nudged a pedal with his foot, sending the ship into a barrel-roll. The fighters came on, opening up with cannon fire. Lucius lined up on the lead attacker and squeezed the trigger.

  A half-dozen thirty millimeter slugs tore through the fighter's cockpit, shredding the pilot’s body in the blink-of-an-eye. The fighter spun out of control, knocked off a collision course by the force of the rounds.

  The others kept firing. Metal screeched and cried as the rounds hit home. Rex knew he couldn’t outmaneuver the smaller fighters, but he didn’t need to. He pulled the ship up in a steep, ninety degree climb.

  Lucius figured out his plan, switching controls to the dorsal turret as Long Haul rose. The fighters moved to match, but for a brief second, the dorsal turret had a clean shot at one of the attackers.

  A hail of fire from Lucius ripped into the top of a fighter, tearing through its hull. The rounds chewed up its electronics and reactor, leaving it dead in space. The fighter floated away on its last trajectory, the pilot trapped inside.

  The last surviving fighter pulled away sharply, burning hard for the asteroid belt and the intruders lurking there. Rex brought Long Haul back on course, the ship sluggish in its response.

  “Starboard-side engine has sustained damage. Speed reduction of 32 percent required to prevent imminent catastrophic failure,” the computer informed emotionlessly.

  “What?!” Rex screamed. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

  “I am incapable of—”

  “Shut the hell up!” he snapped, watching the speed bleed away on the viewscreen.

  “Now we cannot outrun either of them,” Lucius pointed out.

  Rex grumbled, “Then let’s pray they both lose.”

  * * *

  “We are down to two functioning engines, sire,” the engineering tech spoke.

  Julius sighed and wiped at his forehead. Blood from a gash smeared his fingers. He’d been thrown out of his seat during their first run, striking a chair at the station in front of him.

  “So we cannot escape,” he muttered.

  “Not by outrunning them, sire.”

  Julius sat back in his chair. On the viewscreen before him, in between second-long bursts of staticky disruption, he could see the odd biological ship turning, bringing its front around. The vessel was pitted and scarred, leaking fluid from severa
l places, but it still moved forward confidently.

  “Which of our weapons remain functional?” he spoke.

  The weapons tech did not turn, merely spoke, “The starboard main gun and two of the lighter guns. We have five missiles remaining.”

  “Accelerate forward and slide the ship around their starboard flank, keep our front pointed—”

  “Sire,” the engineering tech interrupted. “The maneuvering thrusters have sustained too much damage.”

  Julius ignored an instinctive urge to snap at his inferior for interrupting, focusing on the reality of the man’s words. They couldn’t outmaneuver the enemy and couldn’t outgun them.

  It left him only one real option.

  “Close and fire everything.”

  * * *

  The War-beast groaned in agony, searing pulses of charged particles striking its carapace again and again. The wounded Europan vessel shot forward in a suicide run, firing everything it had.

  Blair squeezed the warm protrusions in his hands, firing the remaining forward rail-gun repeatedly. A half-dozen rounds tore across space and ripped into the Europan vessel, smashing through its hull. Shredded metal flew into space. He kept squeezing, even as a pair of missiles struck home on his War-beast.

  His next salvo blasted a third of the frigate free, sending a vast chunk of wreckage twisting away through space. His third barrage broke the back of the vessel, boring right through its center into the engines. Explosions rippled through the dying ship as its reactor walls breached. Vast amounts of energy tore loose from the fusion cores, exploding outward through the portside, vaporizing a gaping chunk of the ship.

  The Europan’s final shots pounded into his hull, turning the War-beast’s wail into a scream. Blair pushed the reality of the damage out of his mind and maneuvered the ship out of the way of the lifeless frigate. The twisted remains of the vessel floated away, explosions rippling out of compartments that still held air. It drifted away into the darkness of the asteroid field.