Free Chaos Quarter by David Welch Page B

spoke.
    Silence. The two chattering women stared at them, then hurriedly left the bar, leaving some silver coins on the table. The door swung shut behind them.
    “You know ambassador is here,” the bartender spoke, seeing where this was going. “You want to know where?”
    “If he really does speak for that space, then yeah, couldn’t hurt to work with him,” Rex spoke.
    “He will say no,” the bartender replied.
    “I’d love to take your word on that, but I can’t. We’ve just met and all,” said Rex.
    “Not matter for jokes. People do not go there. Those that go there die,” spoke the bartender. “He will tell you that. Whoever they are, they do not trade.”
    Rex dropped a silver bit on the table.
    “Where?”
    The man looked at the coin for a long moment, then picked it up and rubbed it between his fingers. He glanced up at Chakrika.
    “Striped lady, this man get you killed,” he warned.
    Chakrika said nothing, just looked to the ground. The bartender pocketed the coin.
    “City center, a brick building on the north side of the park. Red, covered in moss. There won’t be a sign,” he said and turned away.
    They left the bar and the beer, getting back into the pickup truck. It buzzed to life as the inevitable rain began to fall. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
    “Well, he was a charming guy,” remarked Rex as they drove.
    Chakrika looked deep in thought, as if she didn’t hear him.
    “Worried I will get you killed?” Rex asked.
    “Yes. What if this ‘ambassador’ tells you nothing? Do you plan to actually go to this space, even with all the stories?” Chakrika asked.
    “Probably finish crossing the quarter and do some trading with Achaea, see if these stories are real or just campfire tales,” he explained. “I’ll let you and Lucius know long before I go in so you can get off.”
    “We get off and we lose eighty years of life,” she spoke. “You give us a taste and then dump us. Cruel.”
    “I suppose. But if entering this ‘ambassador’s’ space will get you killed, would you rather have the fifty more years of life you could have expected a month ago, or get blown up thinking you’ll live another century?”
    She thought this over, but did not answer. The storm continued as they pulled into the city center. Thunder roared again as they circled a large park. A dozen towering fig trees, at least a hundred feet tall, rose from a meticulously mowed lawn. Parrots and other colorful birds feasted on their fruit, freshly dropped to the manicured grounds below. Surrounding the park were buildings of grey concrete, covered in vines. More monkeys, also eating the figs, camped out on the roofs. One thin row-house stuck out. It was made of deep-red brick, half-hidden in vibrant green moss and running tangles of vine. It seemed the only man-made splash of color in the city.
    “That’s the one,” he said, pointing. The thunder roared again. Then the ground shook.
    “Was that the thunder?” asked Chakrika.
    “Felt like a tiny earthquake,” Rex noted.
    Another roar, this one followed by an explosion. The red brick building erupted in a billow of flame. Explosions rippled down the city center as bombs rained down.
    “Shit!” Rex said, slamming on the brakes. A chunk of brick wall smashed into the pavement mere feet from his truck, sending a wash of pulverized concrete onto his windshield. He maneuvered around, driving as close as he could to the wreckage of the building, then stopped.
    “What are you doing?! We have to get back to the ship!” Chakrika screamed. The far side of the park exploded in flame. The roar of engines, so very like the thunder of the growing storm, filled the air. Small craft zipped in and out of angry gray clouds. Tiny black ovals fell from them, bombs dropping randomly into the city.
    “Come on, quickly!” he snapped.
    Chakrika unstrapped herself and jumped from the truck. Fire leapt up on all sides of them as building after building exploded. Debris and