David Welch [Welch - Wrath of the Hegemons

Achaean Confederacy: A civilization that is known to exist on the far side of the Chaos Quarter. We do not know its actual borders, as no Commonwealth ship has ever reached this far and returned to tell the tale. Given the whole of the Chaos Quarter lies between the Free Terran Commonwealth and the Achaean Confederacy, this is not unusual. Much of that region of space is mystery, as is the space beyond the Achaean Confederacy.

What we do know of the Confederacy comes from rumor, and the historical record. In 2207 a group of Greek neo-pagans, angered at what they saw as discrimination and slights by the majority Greek Orthodox Christian religion of Greece, pooled their resources. It should be noted that at this time, and since, religious discrimination has been illegal in Greece under the Commonwealth Constitution. Regardless of whether their cause was justified or not, the pagans purchased several vessels with early-model jump drives, and terraforming nanobots. Led by the millionaire founder of the expedition, Constantine Xenophon Castellanos, the splinter group disappeared from Sol system on May 17, 2207. They had seven ships in their fleet, and at least three thousand followers on board. No word was heard of them again for nearly a century. No knowledge of how many made it to their new home has ever come to us. What is known, with a fair degree of certainty, is that terraformed worlds by the name of Delphi and Achaea exist, and that there are other worlds settled by these people. Based on these rumors, the Achaeans cannot be considered a Chaos Quarter state, as they have shown a level of organization not seen throughout the Chaos Quarter. It is the opinion of analysts that they should be considered a normal power, perhaps a regional power, though the last supposition cannot be verified.

It is a truly momentous task, one I do not take upon my unworthy shoulders lightly. Burdened with heavy purpose, I set out in search, seeking beyond the edge of all things for that one ruinous foe that so defies our comprehension. So vast and terrible is said foe that, overcome by awe, I take now to preserving my thoughts in the diction and tone of an Old Earth English gentleman.

Rex Vahl leaned back in his command chair, and nodded to himself. To anyone looking on, he would appear to be thirty, though he was actually fifty-seven, his rate of aging halved by medical nanobots. He was decently handsome, though a bit worn from being out on a mission for far too long. He ran a hand through his brown hair and turned his head.

Hows that? Good? Youre better at this stuff than me, he said, looking over to his gunner and second-in-command, Lucius Alvadile. The young, blond man had a severe look to him, as if he were always about to scold somebody. You had to know him a while to figure out that was just his faces resting expression.

Its missing something, Lucius said in his British-sounding accent. He was actually Europan, originally at least. Hed sort of had a falling out after hed murdered his butcher of a father and fled with a stolen ship, following the brutal murder of his own lover and their daughter. Such were the family squabbles of counts and earls and dukes. The aristocratic Europan Empire, however, frowned on patricide and things of that sort. Well, they pretty much frowned on things of every sort. But killing your father, then deserting your noble birthright to slum it with the freedom-lovers of the Commonwealththat was unforgivable. Hence the standing death sentence for treason theyd placed on the man.

Their loss was his gain, though. Though only in his late twenties, Lucius was an excellent gunner and right-hand man. And Rex couldnt help but admit that British-sounding lilt and rarified language sometimes added a touch of class and gravity to the boredom of long-distance space flight.

Wait, I know what its missing, said Rex, then put on his best bad English accent: Righto guvner!

Lucius raised a curious eyebrow, then shook his head.

Perhaps you should return to narrating the ships log in a cowboy-voice.

Cant. Reports too short, pard, Rex replied.

Lucius shrugged, and went back to the puzzle game floating above his console. Rex didnt blame him. So far, their mission, or rather, the new mission that had been unceremoniously tacked onto the one theyd just completed, was remarkably boring. And given they were flying through the Chaos Quarter, an area universally recognized as the ass-end of explored space, this was quite unusual. On his previous trips out, theyd always been running into brigands and pirates and the various crazies who infested the void. But these last two months? Nothing. One pirate band had radioed their evil intentions from thirty million miles away, but hadnt bothered to come any closer. Probably some half-wits trying to sound big and make a name for themselves. After that it had been smooth sailing. So smooth, in fact, that hed thought up the idea of doing the logs in overly wordy Charles Dickens English in an attempt to liven things up. So far, though, all hed done was conjure up memories of trying to slog through David Copperfield in high school. Good Lord, that book had gone on

Maybe Shakespeare next time. Mission reports in iambic pentameter. Should give the analysts a break from the hum-drum, Rex continued. The engine broke, and all was lost in spaceis that ten?

He paused and counted on his fingers, giving up four beats in, when he remembered hed never finished reading any of the plays hed been assigned in high school. Honestly, he was surprised he even remembered what iambic pentameter was.

Shakespeare, so far the only writer I know of that both the Commonwealth and Empire read, said Lucius.

You read Shakespeare in your imperial days? asked Rex.

We all did. The Martinet of Venice was my favorite, Lucius explained.

The Martinet of Venice?

Yes. Why do you say it like that? Lucius said, raising an eyebrow.

Because its The Merchant of Venice, Rex said.

What? No, its not.

Yeah, it is. Check the data-stores, Rex insisted.

Lucius frowned, and turned to his station. He brought up holograms ahead of him, finding the play and skimming through it.

Well, Ill be damned, he said. It is The Merchant of Venice. He shook his head. A bitter smile came over his face. And no Montague either.

Montague?

Where Lord Montague defended his family honor by killing his son, who betrayed him for a whore in the employ of his Capulet enemies?