Chaos Quarter: Imperial Ambitions

by David Welch

  “Am I not to value my own life over those of people I do not know?” she asked.

  “Well, yes, you generally are supposed to value your own life first. But you knew what would happen to the people of the town if we lost; you’ve experienced that,” Rex explained. “Maybe on some subconscious level, you were unable to let that happen to them.”

  “I did not think of them much during the fight,” she admitted. “Even those around me.”

  “What did you think about then?” asked Rex.

  “I do not remember thinking about much beyond shooting and taking cover. And it did not feel like thought,” she said.

  “Instinct,” Rex declared.

  “I can only remember thinking toward the end, when I saw you lying helpless on the ground.”

  Rex felt a catch in his throat, and allowed a long moment for it to clear.

  “You were concerned about your friends? Is that why you fought?” Rex asked.

  She looked up at him with a lost expression, taking a few moments to think.

  “I-I do not…it is hard to remember exactly,” she said. “I still feel very confused.”

  Rex took that as a “yes,” and felt a warm flush at the thought. It felt the same as the warmth he’d felt when he’d hugged Second, after being pulled out of his ruined suit. Bizarre or not, she was no child.

  “There is more,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. She shook for a moment and then fought for composure. “I am afraid to close my eyes.”

  Rex perked up, rolling onto his side, so he could look her in the eyes.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “It…it’s there, the battle. Whenever I close my eyes, I see it…I feel it. It feels bad, as bad as the times I see the ambassador,” she confessed. “Helen told me that I have to learn to push aside such memories—that they never go away. But I cannot.”

  Her right hand shook visibly. She balled her fist to stop it, but it went right on shaking when she relaxed her fingers.

  “I do not know how to do as she advises. I-I can’t control what I see, and I cannot rest…” she stammered, wiping a tear from her eye.

  “So what you’re saying is that you don’t want to be alone right now,” Rex surmised. He lifted up the sheet that covered him and motioned her over. Second’s fear vanished, replaced by a perplexed stare.

  “I am unfamiliar with many customs, but I do not see how sex would alleviate the situation,” she announced.

  “That’s good, ’cause I’m not offering,” Rex said, oddly proud that she had advanced enough to equate sleeping together with sex. Granted it didn’t apply to this specific situation, but it showed she was beginning to piece together the world around her.

  “I do not understand,” she said.

  “Comfort, Second. You don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want you to suffer. It’s amazing what just being near another person can do.”

  “You think I will be relaxed by your presence?” she said.

  “I think you will. I might not be, but that’s why the clothes stay on,” he said. “Besides, I don’t snore.”

  She rubbed at her jaw, her eyes working as she thought it over. Without a word of warning she walked over, lay down, and spooned up against him. He let the sheet drop over her and then wrapped his arms around her stomach.

  “You are very warm,” she said, her hands slipping naturally over his.

  “Yeah, I’m a regular teddy bear,” he replied.

  “I am unfamiliar with that species,” she said. “Do they inhabit Paphlygonia?”

  He chuckled. “Thousands of them. They like to live in children’s bedrooms.”

  “I shall have to warn Chakrika,” Second noted.

  Rex sighed, and pulled her a little tighter against him.

  “Good night, Second.”

  If you’re not pissing off politicians, then you’re doing something morally wrong.

  —Joseph Davidson, Collected Sayings, 2082

  Manx, Aquilae System, Alshain Prefect, Free Terran Commonwealth, Standard Date 10/12/2507

  Manx was a frontier world. Forty-nine and a half light-years from Earth, it rested on the border of the Commonwealth and the Chaos Quarter. It circled a G-class subgiant with another newly terraformed world, Aquilae. The system had been given the same name, long before either of the worlds had been discovered, much less inhabited.

  It seemed a bit of an odd choice for a homecoming. His computer said that Manx had a total population of 4.8 million people, over a land area half again as large as Earth’s. By that measure it was remoter and emptier than most of the planets he’d visited in the Chaos Quarter, and far less populated than Anglesey. From orbit Rex could make out its larger landmasses, clustered around the equator. They wound like a ribbon, working southward toward temperate latitudes but stopping just short of them. Two oceans, one north, the other south, sandwiched the land between them. He could make out small islands scattered about those oceans, but nothing large or particularly impressive. Small ice caps sat at the poles, much smaller than the ones on Earth or Paphlygonia.

  He could barely see any sign of human habitation. He just saw forest, deep, green, and young. As the ship descended toward a coastal patch, the forest grew greener, but no taller. The trees had been here only a decade or so longer than the humans living among them. They hadn’t had time to become giants.

  A large section of the forest had been cleared away, by a beach that faced the planet’s northern ocean. In it a large town sat, close to the water, atop a bluff that overshadowed the beach. South of the town, amid verdant pineapple fields, sat a quartet of tarmacs and a square, gray building. It was the planet’s biggest spaceport, according to the information scrolling down the viewscreen. To Rex it seemed like any other of the dozen he’d stopped at on his way here. But he realized, as the ship slowed above one of the pads, that this one was different. This one was the end of the line. It wasn’t just another place to take on supplies; it wasn’t just one more step toward a distant destination; it was the destination. Even though he’d never been on Manx before, it was Terran, so it was home.

  As if to reinforce his thoughts a gentle thunk ran through the ship. He took a deep, cleansing breath.

  “Is the reception party waiting?” asked Rex.

  “Several people are near the edge of the tarmac,” the computer informed.

  “Good, good,” said Rex. “I’m going down to the cargo bay; start opening the doors when I get there. Lucius, conn is yours.”

  He made his way from the bridge, stepping over several people who had camped out in the hallways. He descended the stairs to the cargo bay, getting the attention of several dozen refugees. Cindy was down there with them, sleeping among her people. She smiled at him as he passed, and he returned it. For a politician she was remarkably fun to be around. During the month-plus journey from Anglesey, she’d found four more reasons to hold “meetings” about the concerns of the refugees, each as pleasurable as the first. Rex was pretty sure that they were fooling nobody, especially not Jake. Even given the mass of humanity packed into this ship, he could still use his robotic gizmos to isolate scents down to the smallest whiff, and Rex and Cindy had left more than a whiff floating around the bridge. But Jake was circumspect enough not to say anything. Out of appreciation Rex himself had said nothing about that time he saw a disheveled-looking, twenty-something woman emerge from the engine room where Jake was sleeping.

  He walked up to that engine room now, and pounded on the door. Jake emerged seconds later. As far as Rex could see, there were no undressed women in there with him.

  “We down?” he asked.

  “Yeah. All set?” Rex asked.

  “Yep. I’ll go get her,” Jake said. He slipped by, moving down the hall toward the stairwell. Rex followed a few steps behind, heading for the rear doors. They were opening slowly, a sliver of light near the roof growing larger with each passing second. He maneuvered through the mass of refugees. Early on in the trip, a doz
en people would’ve stopped him to thank him for what he’d done on Anglesey. Now, after so many days crammed in here, they were too tired and worn for it. Everybody was. Weeks without privacy, with basic food, and maybe one shower every ten days…not easy on people.

  The opening of the cargo bay doors reinforced all that. The people of Valley Town were on their feet, slowly moving toward the door. They looked on with blank faces. They’d made a dozen or so stops during the trip to resupply, so these doors had opened plenty of times. And each time they’d closed with the people still on the ship. But they looked on all the same, cautiously optimistic. Rex decided it was time their optimism be rewarded.

  “We’re here, people! Last stop. Welcome to the Free Terran Commonwealth!” Rex shouted as he approached the door. A cry of relief went up; at the same moment, the door touched down and formed a ramp.

  He strolled down, dozens of people moving behind him. In front of him, a small party of five people awaited. Four of them were women, in police uniforms and well armed. Standing in front of the others was a tall man with a crew cut. He wore a suit, one of the latest style with a banded collar and no breasts. His eyes went wide as he saw the flood of refugees. Then a moment later, he covered his face, flinching away as Rex drew near.

  “Dear lord! What the hell is that smell?” the man exclaimed.

  “That’s the smell of freedom,” Rex said with a shit-eating grin.

  “It’s…it’s terrible,” the man said with a grimace.

  “Well, stuff six hundred people in a freighter, it ain’t gonna smell like roses,” Rex said.

  “You’re Vahl?” the man said.

  “Yes.”

  “Lopen,” the man replied. “Section head for Manx.”

  “Good to see you. You guys got my transmission? Sent it as soon as we jumped into the system.”

  “Yeah, yeah. When you mentioned some freed serfs, I didn’t think you meant a small village,” said Lopen, looking around at the serfs as they came out onto the tarmac. Most were just taking a moment to stand in the sun, to breath in fresh air and see a sky above them.

  “Well, sadly there’s about two-hundred-odd members of the village who didn’t make it,” Rex said.

  “What does that mean?” said Lopen.

  “You haven’t read the report?” asked Rex.

  “It’s nine o’clock in the morning here,” said Lopen. “Barely had time to skim it over.”

  Rex sighed, but said nothing.

  “Well, we have five hundred eighty-two people who need a place to stay. No force in this universe is gonna get them back on my ship,” Rex explained.

  “Officer Vahl, Burrigen has three hundred fifty hotel rooms in the entire town,” Lopen replied. “And we’re still checking on their vacancy.”

  “I thought this was the capital, largest city on the planet,” said Rex.

  “It is. Population nine thousand two hundred,” Lopen answered, and then shrugged. “It’s a young world. You didn’t exactly pick the best place to make an entrance.”

  “It was the closest,” Rex said. “And you might want to get an immigration officer out here. We got a lot of asylum paperwork to fill out.”

  “Asylum?” said Lopen.

  “Yeah. According to the ship’s computer, the Serf Migration and Control Act of 2461 states that any Europan serf who reaches Commonwealth territory is granted asylum status. And since Longshot is Commonwealth property, it also counts as Commonwealth territory,” Rex explained. “So yeah, asylum.”

  “And here I was expecting a slow Wednesday,” Lopen sighed.

  “I’d say I’m sorry to disappoint,” said Rex, glancing around at the refugees. “But I can’t.”

  “All right,” Lopen said, throwing up his hands. “We’ll try and find a place for everybody. Now what about this other request? You specifically asked for four female police officers to escort a dangerous prisoner?”

  “Oh yeah, hold on a sec,” Rex said. He dashed back toward the ship. Coming down the ramp was Jake, a handcuffed Vermella walking beside him. They met at the bottom.

  “You’re releasing me now?” she asked.

  “I am,” Rex said, motioning Jake to follow.

  “Wait, where are we going?” Vermella asked, pulling to a stop.

  “Over there,” Rex said, pointing toward Lopen. “I’m releasing you into their custody.”

  “What?” she roared. “We had a deal—”

  “Can it!” snapped Rex. “Did you really think I would turn lose a mind-altering rapist? After what you did to us?”

  “You lying son of a bitch!” she screeched.

  “Yeah, maybe so,” he said with a dark laugh. “Better to be a liar than the person who turned you loose on the universe.”

  “You promised me my freedom! You promised nanobots!” Vermella screamed, her hands shaking with impotent rage. Jake kept a firm grasp on her right arm.

  “Oh you’ll get the nanobots,” Rex said, motioning Jake to get her moving again. “Part of the standard prison-medical package. There was a big supreme court case about it when I was a kid, all sorts of controversy.”

  “Hallidag vs. Mars,” informed Jake, having no doubt looked it up there and then on the local networks.

  “That’s the one!” Rex replied with mock cheer. “All sorts of crap about how it’s ‘cruel to deny them a full life,’ shit like that. Anyway, point is, you probably got one hundred, one hundred ten years ahead of you. But you’ll just be spending most of it in prison. Rape, kidnapping, assault, conspiracy, enslavement…that’s some heavy stuff.”

  “I’m going to kill you, Vahl,” she sneered.

  “Now, now, save that anger. You might need it where you’re going,” Rex said, wrenching Vermella up in front of Lopen. The man did not seem impressed. He gave Vermella the once-over, a skeptical smirk on his face.

  “This is the ‘dangerous prisoner’?” asked Lopen.

  “Most dangerous woman you’ll ever lay eyes on,” said Rex. “And pray that’s all you lay on her, trust me.”

  “And the duct tape?” said Lopen, nodding toward her neck.

  “You didn’t read the part about her, did you?” asked Rex.

  “As I said, it’s early, had to skim,” Lopen griped.

  “Just don’t take the duct tape off, not before you get her in solitary and away from any men or postpubescent boys,” Rex explained.

  “Just men?” Lopen asked.

  “Yes,” Rex stressed. “She does things with pheromones. Nasty, illegal things. She can never be around men with her neck exposed, understand me?”

  “Sure,” Lopen said with a shrug.

  “I’m serious. Female guards only, solitary confinement at all times. Do you understand?”

  Lopen nodded and turned to the four, armed women behind him. They grabbed Vermella. The lead of the policewomen hesitated a moment, looking to Rex.

  “Is she really that dangerous?” the cop asked.

  “Worse. If she gets free, don’t hesitate. Shoot her down,” Rex replied.

  “I’ll get out, Vahl,” Vermella seethed. “And the things I’ll do to you when I do—”

  “Duly noted,” Rex interrupted.

  “Come on, move,” snapped the lead cop. The four woman led Vermella away toward a van waiting at the edge of the spaceport. Rex kept his eye on them. They loaded Vermella into the van, just a bit roughly. The door slid shut, and the vehicle pulled away.

  Rex released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and then finally turned back to Lopen.

  “Feel better?” the man asked.

  “Much,” said Rex.

  “Well, at least one of us got what we want,” Lopen said. “If you’ll excuse, I gotta go wake up every government worker in town to help deal with this mess.”

  He stomped off, leaving them on the tarmac, surrounded by the serfs. Jake frowned at the man as he went.

  “Kind of a dick, isn’t he?” Jake asked.

  “He certainly is,” Rex replied. For a m
oment he didn’t know what to do. They were alone, standing on a tarmac, waiting for whatever Lopen managed to scrounge up. God knew how long that would take. Somehow it wasn’t the celebratory welcome he’d hoped for.

  The smell of salt interrupted his thoughts. For the first time, he consciously heard the pound of the surf against the beach. It was warm out, easily in the eighties; no wind; bluebird skies—perfect beach weather.

  “You think the locals would mind if we appropriated their beach to take a much-needed bath?” Rex wondered aloud.

  “I don’t think our guests had time to grab suits,” Jake noted.

  “As Second might say, ‘What does that matter?’” Rex said.

  “Okay, I’ll start looking up the laws regarding nude bathing,” Jake said. “And see if there’re any defense lawyers in town…”

  “You do that. Come find me when you get an answer. Nobody who charges more than one hundred an hour,” said Rex.

  He cleared his throat, and shouted out to the multitude of serfs.

  “Anybody wants to get clean, follow me!”

  About a half hour later, a report came into the Burrigen police station of a large number of naked people frolicking in the shallows, all while a harried-looking immigration officer darted about, vainly trying to get names and information.

  City of Burrigen, Manx, Aquilae System, Alshain Prefect, Free Terran Commonwealth, Standard Date 10/14/2507

  “Once again, we’re on the ocean.”

  Rex closed his eyes and chuckled. He hated to say it, but he knew Officer Jones’s voice anywhere. He’d given Rex his first mission atop a sea cliff, overlooking the oceans of Venus. Now they were on a beach overlooking the much quieter seas of Manx.

  “Yeah, but this one has a beech,” said Rex.

  “And once again you’re drinking,” Jones noted.

  “I earned it,” Rex said, and then motioned to a cooler next him. It was filled with ice and longnecks. “Grab a chaise.”

  Jones did so, dragging one up and thumping it down beside the cooler. He put a briefcase down on the sand beneath it.

  “I suppose I should be glad you’re wearing a bathing suit today,” said Jones, as he settled into the chaise. He pulled a beer from the cooler, and knocked the cap off on the arm of the chaise.