Chaos Quarter by David Welch Page A

parking lot, crushing a dozen cars beneath its weight. Their pursuer broke off, heading back to the city for easier targets. Rex maneuvered through the pads until he could see Long Haul. He drove onto the pad, up the door ramps, and into the cargo bay. Nearby two more slaver ships burned, riddled with holes. His gunner had been busy.
    Jumping out of the truck, they ran around back. Chakrika’s face was a mask of tears, but she kept going with impressive resolve. They opened the tail gate. There waited the body.
    And the woman who’d helped them dig it up. She huddled beside the corpse, clinging to it.
    “What the hell?” Rex asked. He grabbed the foot of the corpse and pulled. The woman didn’t release her grip. Rex pulled one of his guns and aimed it at her head.
    “Let go,” he demanded.
    “This second cannot,” she replied in a melodious, feminine tone.
    “Well we’re taking him,” Rex replied. “So either get out of the way or help!”
    This apparently didn’t cause her any conflict. She jumped out of the truck-bed and grabbed his other foot. Chakrika stared, astonished, as the two pulled the body out.
    Lucius appeared at the top of the stairs, an assault rifle over his shoulder. He slid down the ladder and moved up beside them.
    “Had to borrow it,” he said, motioning to the gun. “Why do we have a corpse?”
    “This is the guy we were looking for,” Rex said, dragging it into the bay. Chakrika dashed in behind them. Rex turned to the strange woman.
    “We’re leaving this planet. If you want to go, now is the time,” he spoke.
    “This second cannot leave this Master,” she replied with a curt nod.
    “Who is she?” Lucius asked, hands tightening on the gun.
    “I have no fucking idea. Give Chaki the gun and get to the bridge,” replied Rex, running for the ladder. “Close the doors!”
    The computer complied. Lucius handed off the gun and followed. They rushed up the stairs and through the hallway, past the makeshift crib where Quintus lay crying. On the bridge they skidded into their stations. Rex jammed the vertical control forward before he had even sat down.
    The ship shook as it rose, buffeted by the winds of the storm. Faint sounds echoing through the ship, barely audible over the steady sound of rain hitting the hull, told him the turrets were firing. A slaver craft streaked in front of them, pursued by ground fire. Orange tracer streaks shot ahead of them. Rex rotated the ship upward and punched the accelerator. They were pressed back into their seats as the ship rocketed away.
    “Got a bugger tailing us,” informed Lucius. “I’ve got him.”
    He squeezed his trigger. Thirty millimeter rounds shot out of the rear turret, the first dozen ripping past the pursuing ship as it barrel-rolled to avoid fire. Lucius squeezed again. This bunch hit, tearing through the front of the vessel and filling the insides with fire and ricocheting shrapnel. The craft exploded, the sound muffled by the thinning air. As it plummeted back to Cordelia, Long Haul broke free of the atmosphere, entering the blackness of the void.
    A battle spun around them, the local Hastav fighters firing at slaver ships, each side blasting the other in a deadly, swirling dance. Rex paid little attention to them. Something else posed a greater threat.
    Directly in front of them sat a ship twice the size of his own, the slaver mothership. A six hundred-foot rectangular ship studded with circular protrusions, antennae, and rear-mounted engine nacelles, it was clearly not designed to be a warship. But it moved to intercept anyway, slowly, firing its forward guns. Rounds streaked soundlessly at them, tearing into his armor. Muffled thumps reverberated through the ship as they hit.
    “ Twenty millimeter rounds are impacting our dorsal bow ,” the computer stated.
    Rex twitched his left foot to the left, sending the ship into a counter-clockwise spin. It shot forward, toward the mothership.
    “Line me up with their engines!”