Chaos Quarter: Imperial Ambitions

by David Welch

  “See something interesting, Second?” Rex asked as he approached, bringing the ATV and its cargo to a stop.

  “I am trying to understand cold water,” she informed.

  Jones raised an eyebrow.

  “By staring at clouds?” Rex inquired.

  “It will rain soon,” she said. “I am wondering if my discomfort at cold water in the shower is limited to that location.”

  Rex moved to speak, but then stopped. Experience was the best teacher, after all. And no real harm would be caused by Second being rained on for a few minutes.

  He drove past her, pulling the ATV up to the garage. Looking on from the front porch, was his little sister Lanie. She was a dirty blonde in her mid-forties, though outside of the Free Terran Commonwealth, most people would’ve mistaken her for a twenty-seven-year-old. Like all Terrans, with the exception of a few religious fanatics, her body was swarming with medical nanobots. They ran around repairing damaged cells, broken DNA, and killing any microbes that didn’t belong. As a result her aging, like his and Jones’s, was about half the normal human rate.

  The sight of her outside made Rex wonder, especially given that she never seemed comfortable around Second and her particular brand of oddness. But his question was answered by a car at the end of the driveway. It belonged to his mother’s soon-to-be ex-husband Eric. And if there was one person Lanie got along with less than Second, it was that guy. And unlike Second, Eric was well deserving of her contempt.

  “I see my directions were accurate,” said Lanie.

  “Yes, marvelously so. Walk down the road until you see an ATV,” said Jones. “Though I’m afraid with clarity like that you’ll never have a career in intelligence.”

  “I know. Strange though, they always said Rex was the smart one,” she joked.

  “Funny,” Rex deadpanned. “So how bad is it this time? And where is Irina?”

  “She’s downstairs, climbing all over Jake,” Lanie said. Irina was her daughter, an energetic four-year-old who had discovered, shortly after Rex’s arrival on the planet, that his friend, Jake the cyborg, was really more like Jake the teddy bear. It turned out his cybernetically enhanced friend was a softy when it came to kids.

  “That’s good. Lucius and Chaki?”

  “At their lot with dad, sketching out their dream home,” said Lanie.

  “So dad and Eric are within a half mile of each other?” asked Rex.

  “Indeed. And it gets better,” replied Lanie.

  “Oh?” Rex said, both dreading the answer and curious as to what could add more potential melodrama to his already lively home life.

  “Mom’s pregnant,” continued Lanie.

  Rex blinked once or twice, not sure he’d heard.

  “Mom’s what?”

  “Three month’s pregnant,” said Lanie.

  Rex sighed and turned to Jones.

  “My family…what can I say?”

  “Well, not to ruin your exasperation, but with the exception of the pregnancy, I knew all this already,” Jones revealed.

  “You know how creepy that sounds, right?” Rex asked.

  “It’s the business we’re in,” said Jones.

  Rex sighed again and rubbed his forehead.

  “So Mom’s pregnant…at eighty-eight…by a man she’s about to divorce,” he grumbled.

  “Not quite,” said Lanie, an amused smirk on her face. “Eric ain’t the father.”

  “He’s not?” said Rex.

  “Nope, Dad is.”

  “Interesting…” said Jones, as if watching a TV show.

  Rex shook his head.

  “So Mom and Dad are…”

  “Yep. Surprised you didn’t know, being a spook and all.”

  “Yes. I’m surprised too,” Jones concurred with a deliciously evil grin. “You could give us all a bad name, missing something like that.”

  “Forgive me for not spying on my mother and her sex partners,” Rex muttered. “We belong on a trashy talk show.”

  “Nah,” said Lanie. “We’re much too well off to be trash.”

  “Okay, I’m going to string this buck up to drain. At least he has no surprises in store for me.”

  “It’s starting to rain!” cried Second excitedly.

  ***

  Rex hadn’t even finished opening the door before the shouting greeted him.

  “Pregnant!” Eric roared. “Fucking pregnant! You can’t even wait for the ink to dry before you’re spreading your thighs for any jerk on two legs—”

  “Oh don’t you dare try that shit on me. You were cheating on me years before we separated,” his mother, Odell, screamed back.

  She was almost a carbon copy of Lanie, with the same dirty-blond hair. She was maybe an inch taller and had the slight lines of a person in their eighties, but otherwise they could have been sisters.

  Eric crossed his arms defiantly. “No. No! I never touched—”

  “I have you on video Eric! The judge saw it—”

  “You faked that video, and you know it!” Eric roared.

  “Yeah, ’cause I know how to make computer-generated imagery,” said Odell.

  “You hired somebody; you have the resources. Don’t try—”

  Rex cleared his throat. The argument came to an abrupt halt. Eric’s scowl deepened.

  “And now the washed-up, void jockey shows up,” Eric spat contemptuously. “Find a job yet?”

  “Officer Vahl has a job,” Jones informed.

  “Who the hell is this guy?” Eric snarled.

  “This is Jones,” Rex said. “You want to do that thing you do Jonesy?”

  Jones smiled and stared directly at Eric.

  “Mr. Eric Gadman. Age ninety-four. Stock trader for Newell, Lopczeck, and Sinch. Twice married, twice divorced. Currently under Paphlygonia Bureau of Investigation surveillance for insider trading—”

  “What? What the hell are you talking about?” Eric snapped, clearly in the dark about that last sentence.

  “I apologize; I don’t have all the files on the investigation. But I think it had to do with some leaked information regarding Polar Harvesting Fisheries.”

  “Polar Harv…” Eric began and then stopped. His eyes went wide. “What…no! There was nothing wrong with that trade!”

  “The authorities seem to think otherwise,” continued Jones with a shrug.

  Eric moved to shout but stopped, looking unsure what to do. He obviously wanted to fight, but a whisper of fear twinged across his face. Clearly uncertain when it came to Mr. Jones, he turned back to his Odell.

  “Fucking whore,” he grumbled and then glanced up. Rex was advancing upon him, fists balled. For a moment Eric didn’t seem to believe what he was seeing. Then his eyes widened in recognition of the fact that a trained soldier with thirty pounds on him was coming his way. He bolted, darting from the kitchen a half heartbeat before Rex’s jab. Rex growled as he watched Eric go.

  “Want me to go beat him senseless for calling you that?” Rex asked.

  “No, dear, but thanks anyway,” Odell said, grasping his arm affectionately. She then turned to Jones, “Whoever you actually are, thanks for that little story.”

  “Wasn’t a story,” Jones revealed. “He’s actually under investigation, and I’ll probably get an earful for that little stunt. But he was being an asshole.”

  “You have no idea,” Odell replied. She paused and looked from her son to his new “friend.” “Spy stuff?”

  Jones just smiled. Odell nodded her understanding.

  “Well, I guess I’ll go tell your father the good news. Don’t be too loud though. Jake’s downstairs, and you know how well he hears.”

  She smiled, picked up an umbrella from a corner, and walked out of the house. Rex watched his mother go. She’d been around his crew long enough that she paid no heed to Second staring at the sky in the middle of a rain shower. As she disappeared down the driveway, Rex turned back to Jones.

  “Let’s have it,” said Rex.

  They mov
ed to two easy chairs in the great room. They looked out over large floor-to-ceiling windows. In front of them was a covered deck and then the ocean. As they settled into the chairs, Jones pulled out a rolled-up piece of electronic paper and straightened it out.

  “It’s the empire,” Jones said, handing him the paper.

  “The empire? Europa?”

  “Yeah, those bastards,” Jones continued. “Since Titus died and Gnaeus took over, the imperials have been poking around the Chaos Quarter, especially the areas near their border.”

  “Causing havoc on the frontier wasn’t enough?”

  “The young emperor is ambitious and determined to make himself a pain in our ass. The fool was even willing to send that frigate after you just to bring back Baliol.”

  “Alvadile,” Rex pointed out.

  “Yes, Alvadile,” said Jones with a smirk. “Anyway, spy drones we’ve had loitering near the edge of imperial space have picked up a lot of chatter about one specific spot in the Chaos Quarter. About eleven degrees-from-core, twenty-five light-years or so from the Europan border. From what our crypto guys have cracked, the planet is named Anglesey. But that’s about all we got. Given that it’s Europa’s backyard, we don’t know a whole lot about the area.”

  “So you have no idea why the empire is sniffing around this place, and you want to know?”

  “Exactly. You guys jump in, poke around a bit, get what info you can, and then come back home.”

  “Well, that makes it sound so simple,” remarked Rex.

  “Simpler than your last trip. And this one isn’t designed to be a suicide mission.”

  “How thoughtful.” Rex frowned darkly at the memory of Commodore Gutierrez—how the man had blamed Rex for his son’s death and then had basically sent him into the Chaos Quarter to die. Jones didn’t wanted to kill him, not after they’d gone through all the trouble of getting him transferred from Fleet to the EID. But given the nature of the Chaos Quarter, whether his superior had intended him to die or not didn’t mattered much. The place was a shithole. It was a hive of failed states, pirates, slavers, and crazies of all stripes. The tech sucked, the civilizations sucked, and you couldn’t make two jumps without some asshole taking a shot at you.

  But since he had managed to cross it and return on his last mission, he was officially the most knowledgeable person around when it came to the Chaos Quarter. So he got the joy of mucking around looking for information people didn’t want him knowing. It almost made him wish he’d finished college instead of enlisting. Almost.

  He sighed and glanced over the mission specs, taking note of the planet and its distance from the empire.

  “It’s at least five jumps away from the empire’s border. Four at best, if they got jump drives as good as ours…” Rex spoke.

  “They don’t,” Jones assured.

  “And there’s a dozen systems between this world and the empire,” Rex continued.

  “Thus their curiosity is our curiosity.”

  “Sure it isn’t just some noble who found a new trade route? Bringing in some gold to fill his coffers?”

  “Too much chatter for that. We’ve been picking up high-level military encoding on their transmissions. The kind you can’t break without a few dozen years to spare. Some noble puttering around in his private yacht, setting up a sweetheart deal with the local tyrant, wouldn’t warrant this kind of secrecy.”

  “So the Europan military could be present…that sure does take a lot of the simplicity out of things,” Rex remarked.

  “You’ve handled them before,” said Jones with a shrug.

  “And barely escaped alive,” Rex reminded. “And putting Lucius in the company of his ex-countrymen…that could be trouble.”

  “You vouched for his loyalty when you brought him in.”

  “I’m not doubting his allegiance. I’m wondering what the Europans will do if they find him snooping around this ‘Anglesey’ that the emperor is so interested in.”

  “Given that they’ve already sentenced the man to death, what worse can they do?”

  “I’m sure he could tell you,” Rex replied darkly. He sighed and scrolled down the electronic paper until he found the image of a ship.

  “Dariel Model twenty-one. I must be moving up in the world.”

  “Souped up as requested.”

  Rex nodded, running his eyes over the specifications. The ship was 330 feet long, 125 feet high, and 195 feet wide. It was about as big as you could get and still land on a planet easily. It had a jump drive and three engine nacelles, one placed on each side and one on the top. Each had five engine exhausts, on every side of the tubular nacelles except the side where they attached to the ship. Rex had always liked that design. It was a scaled-up version of what you usually saw on a fighter and good for maneuverability.

  The ship’s cargo bay ran nearly two-thirds the length of the ship and almost its entire height—bigger than the one on his old ship, Long Haul—ideal for their cover as traders. The bay, along with the rest of the hull, was wrapped in thirty-five centimeters of DU-steel armor—a latticework of depleted uranium, hardened steel, and armor-quality non-Newtonian liquids. Furthering the defense were five thirty-millimeter Juno cannon auto turrets—small rail-guns mounted on ball turrets. They were placed on the ventral and dorsal surfaces, port and starboard, and one was aft. And they were placed in a way that they could create overlapping fields of fire. Finishing off the defense were four Tanager defensive missiles, split among two rotatable pylons, located port and starboard.

  He moved on to the forward weaponry, the offensive stuff. It was more than he expected, more than his last ship. In fact the armament was in line with a corvette. Below the bridge a section of hull had been added, extending downward. It held three missile launchers and space for six Rake light antiship missiles. Above that were two light, fighter-class pulse cannons. While energy weapons usually lacked the knockout power of a rail-gun, they more than made up for it with unlimited ammo and quicker recharge times. Above the pulse cannons were six fixed thirty-millimeter Juno cannons, three on each side of the bridge. It wouldn’t be all that intimidating to a proper warship, but to the jury-rigged vessels of the Chaos Quarter, this loadout was death. It was the kind of firepower that could convince a foe to stop a battle before it even began.

  When he finished with the weaponry, he glanced back at the image of the vessel. The ship didn’t look like much. It was larger than Long Haul had been, but generally the same blocky shape. The Dariel Combine had never been very concerned with aesthetics. Their selling points had always been quality and durability. Plus out in the Quarter, the plain looks might be an advantage. Most ships out there were what could generously be called “junkers.” Having something shiny and sleek would just draw the attention of every cutthroat looking for a quick score. So the blocky line of the vessel would do just fine…

  He paused, seeing for the first time a small name written on the side of the ship.

  “Longshot?” he asked, incredulous.

  “In keeping with your last ship, Long Haul,” Jones declared. “Don’t want to change it up too much, ruin your luck.”

  “Luck? I seem to remember Long Haul got chewed up beyond repair.”

  “You survived, didn’t you?” said Jones with a smile.

  “You spooks got a twisted sense of humor, you know that?”

  “Maybe,” said Jones, getting to his feet. “But you know what we don’t have?”

  “What’s that?” Rex said, humoring him.

  “Women disrobing publicly without a shred of embarrassment,” he said, nodding toward the front door.

  Rex looked over his chair. Second had entered the house. Soaking wet, she had pulled off her top. At that moment she unclasped her bra, which was similarly drenched. She did this as casually as a person unpacking groceries.

  “Second…” he began.

  She turned to face him, an innocent look on her face. As always he couldn’t help but notice her full, firm breasts. As
always he couldn’t help feeling bad about doing so. And as always he couldn’t help but feel exasperated over the fact that this sort of thing happened often enough for him to use the phrase “as always.”

  “I have determined that cold water in the rain is just as uncomfortable as in the shower,” she announced proudly.

  “That’s great, Second. Why are you half-naked?” he asked.

  She gave him a confused look and said, “Because my clothing is wet.”

  “Yes, I see that. But remember what I said about taking your clothes off in public?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  Rex rolled his eyes, saying, “Just checking…”

  “Am I evoking a lustful response?”

  Rex collapsed onto his bed, rubbing at his eyes.

  “Second, you always evoke a response.”

  “But my reproductive organs remain concealed.”

  “Remember when I said that most men consider breasts to be sexually alluring?”

  “Yes.”

  “Remember when I explained that I am a man?”

  “No, I have always known you were male. There was no need for explanation.”

  He cursed himself for being sarcastic. Such things were lost on her. He wasn’t sure if she even understood jokes yet.

  “Do my breasts evoke a sexual response in you?” she asked innocently.

  Rex moved to reply but sighed, shaking his head in disbelief for the thousandth time since bringing Second home. Mr. Jones just smirked as usual.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two alone…” he announced.

  “Thank you for that,” Rex replied, knowing full well Jones would understand the sarcasm. He watched the man go and then turned to Second.