The Middle Road (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride Book 7)

by Caleb Wachter

  “How old are those hits?” Middleton demanded as he scanned the stream of data which accompanied the Bug ship’s image.

  “That is difficult to say, Captain,” Hephaestion said hesitantly. “My best guess is that they were inflicted at least ten years ago, but it could have been much longer than that. There is also a significant quantity of duralloy present within the stern region of the vessel.”

  “Magnify,” Middleton commanded, and Hephaestion obliged by zooming in on the most damaged part of the wrecked Bug ship.

  Sure enough, a large section of duralloy hull could be seen beneath an incomplete layer of what looked like the Bug ship equivalent of ‘scar tissue’ which had apparently begun to form around the angular section of human-made ship hull.

  “I am unable to ascertain the type of ship to which that section of hull belongs,” Hephaestion correctly preempted Middleton’s next query. “But scarring on its hull appears consistent with short-range Bug weaponry, Captain—and it appears to have been inflicted around thirty years ago.”

  “I am receiving a distress call, Captain,” Kongming said excitedly. “It is faint and only began broadcasting a few seconds ago, but it is clearly a human distress signal.”

  “There are people alive over there?” Kratos asked in his usual deep, grating voice.

  Middleton turned to see the towering, formerly one-eyed Tracto-an—who, technically, still possessed just the one eye but now openly wore the cybernetic prosthetic he had used to entrap Agent Patterson in his previously empty eye socket—standing near the port iris which connect the bridge from the Prejudice’s port companionway.

  “That is difficult to discern, given the nature of the message,” Kongming replied dubiously. “It is a standard type of automated Imperial distress signal employed by private commercial vessels…a cross-check of the Prejudice’s data banks suggests it is likely to have belonged to a now-defunct Imperial House, House Lancaster. House Lancaster’s leader, Senator Maria Lancaster, was listed as missing after engaging in a survey aboard a private yacht in a region of space near the Imperial-Gorgon border zone—a region at least one thousand light years from here.”

  “Is it possible for humans to survive that long aboard a Bug warship?” Kratos asked dubiously.

  “Possible? Yes,” Middleton allowed. “But it’s far from likely. The distress signal is probably automated.”

  “That is possible, sir,” Kongming interjected, “but unlikely. The Prejudice’s comm. array is set to passive mode; we did not broadcast any identifying messages which would alert an automated system to the presence of our ostensibly Imperial warship.”

  “True…” Middleton agreed as he arrived at the only reasonable conclusion. “Signal the fleet: all ships are to remain in position while we dispatch a team to investigate the derelict ship.”

  “I am detecting a breathable atmosphere within the Bug ship, sir,” Hephaestion said with evident surprise. “I am also detecting trace strange particles emanating from within the human-built wreckage; it would seem the ship’s hyper drive is still at least partially functional.

  “Curioser and curioser,” Middleton muttered, turning to Kratos. “Take a team of four Lancers, including yourself, to the ship and look for survivors—or anything else we might be able to use. Bring Chief Garibaldi in case that ship’s got any trillium left in its hyper drive so that he can recover it. We’ve already had to redistribute trillium to some of the older Void Hunter ships, and it doesn’t look like we’re going to find harvestable sources of raw material any time soon.”

  “I would like to accompany the away team, Captain,” Kongming said, much to Middleton’s surprise.

  “Why?” Middleton asked bluntly.

  “I would like to collect several specimens for later analysis,” Kongming explained. “Our own warship incorporates organo-tech into its central processing systems; I would like to examine another example of such technology in the hope of achieving greater understanding of—“

  Middleton waved him off, “Fine, but you are to remain with the Lancer team and follow Kratos’ orders at all times. There’s no telling what kind of anti-intrusion devices might still be active aboard that ship after all this time—not to mention the fact that Bugs’ lifespans and environmental adaptability are considerably greater than ours. There might be a few ‘specimens’ aboard that ship that object to our presence—or to your collection methods.”

  “Understood, Captain. Thank you,” Kongming said graciously.

  The Deathbacker landed on an exposed patch of duralloy belonging to the wrecked human ship—a ship which had somehow become intertwined in the Bug Harvester’s stern section. A few seconds after touchdown, the boarding collar extended from the Deathbacker’s boarding airlock where it clamped onto the duralloy of the other ship and began to slowly slice its way through the relatively thin layer of armor.

  “I lead,” Kratos declared while Kongming fidgeted with his suit’s helmet. The docking collar completed its work of cutting into the other ship’s still-pressurized compartment, and a green indicator light flashed above the airlock to show that the other ship’s compartment contained no detectable toxins or dangerous substances.

  The airlock opened and Kratos stepped through, ducking into the breach in the hull and disappearing into the darkness beyond.

  A few seconds passed before his voice crackled over the com-link, “The entry is clear. Proceed.”

  Kongming followed a pair of Lancers into the breach, and Garibaldi was close behind with the fourth Lancer bringing up the rear.

  Kratos had opted for power armor in this particular mission, and his suit’s external lights illuminated the seemingly tilted corridor where they now found themselves. The other Lancers had likewise donned power armor, though Kongming and Garibaldi wore simple EVA suits which would not hamper their maneuverability. Kongming carried a small sample retrieval case while the Prejudice’s Chief Engineer had brought a case full of tools, along with a storage container which would carry any precious trillium they might find aboard the ruined ship.

  Walking through the corridors of the derelict vessel was eerie, even to Kongming. It was surprisingly warm, and his suit’s HUD suggested that the air outside of their pressurized suits was breathable, if only just.

  “Damage,” Kratos grunted, and a moment later Kongming saw what the Tracto-an meant.

  The corridor ended in a ruined, crumpled section of hull which appeared to have been bent over itself several times. The result was a folded appearance which was clearly unnatural and decidedly not the result of a single impact.

  “Something intelligent did that,” Garibaldi stated the obvious, but Kongming appreciated hearing him do so nonetheless. “It looks like some kind of organic bonding agent was used to create a vacuum-proof seal…” he mused as he moved closer to examine the strange substance which filled every seam between the folded pieces of metal, which to Kongming looked very much like a dormant flower’s petals which patiently lay in wait for the day they would open. “There’s no pressure on the other side of the door,” Garibaldi declared. “Whoever did this managed to keep the rest of this ship, or at least this compartment and any attached compartments, livable.”

  “We double back,” Kratos declared, “the previous junction should lead us to the ship’s hyper drive.”

  They did as he ordered, and after traversing nearly two hundred meters of corridor they arrived at the ship’s engineering compartment. Along the way they saw very little in the way of battle damage—and certainly nothing on the scale of the mysteriously folded section of corridor they had encountered—though they did see curious, organic residue which did little to allay the general sense of foreboding which the group clearly shared.

  “It is jammed,” Kratos growled after trying, and failing, to force the door open using his suit-augmented strength. It seemed that this door’s seam was also lined with that strange, organic residue which had created a vacuum-tight seal on the folded metal panel they had previously
encountered.

  “Looks like there’s pressure on the other side. I’ll open it,” Garibaldi assured him, producing a plasma torch which he used to break the seal after several minutes of methodical work.

  Kratos and another Lancer forced the door open, and much to Kongming’s surprise he saw that the chamber beyond was dimly illuminated.

  A quick check of his suit’s HUD showed that the air in the engine compartment was also breathable, and he felt a powerful urge to remove his helmet. He resisted, and after entering the chamber he noticed several strange designs on a nearby bulkhead.

  “Strange,” he muttered as he approached the designs. The patterns were complex and intricate, and appeared to have been scrawled in the same substance which had sealed the doors.

  “There’s more of it over here,” Garibaldi muttered. “It looks like it’s everywhere.”

  Kongming peered intently at a nearby cluster of symbols, and suddenly he recognized what they were. “This is a variant of Imperial written language.”

  “No it isn’t,” Garibaldi said dismissively. “There aren’t any spirals in Imperial characters,” he gestured to a cluster of symbols, many of which included conspicuous spirals.

  “If you take each spiral to be a right angle, and each vertical line originating midway up the character to be a dot, it is indeed a calligraphic version of Imperial, Mr. Garibaldi,” Kongming explained.

  Garibaldi shot him an unreadable look before muttering, “Well…duh.”

  Kongming could not blame the engineer for not believing him; Kongming himself would have been alarmed had someone suggested such a complex re-design of language could be spotted so quickly. Pattern recognition had long been a great strength of Kongming’s, but seeing these characters for what they really were was certainly beyond the usual human ability to discern at what had essentially been a glance.

  “Well then, smarts, what does it say?” the Chief asked sarcastically.

  Kongming searched for a sensible break in the swirling text, which as far as he could tell featured no punctuation whatsoever. He found a passage which seemed to read clearly enough on its own, and placed his finger beneath the characters as he read, “The light consumes and creates; Heaven is glimpsed in darkness; We exist to contemplate grey; Thought gifts order unto chaos.”

  “Oh good,” Garibaldi quipped as he knelt in front of the hyper drive’s trillium storage container, “at least we know the author wasn’t a stark raving lunatic.”

  Kongming felt a sharp pang as he recalled coming to terms with his own hallucinations regarding Zhongda’s non-existence. In truth, he would describe himself precisely as a ‘stark raving lunatic’ if pressed to do so on his state of mind prior to his second encounter with the Seer.

  “She’s got enough trillium to run a Destroyer for a year,” Garibaldi said appreciatively. “It’ll take me a few minutes to power down the system and extract the fuel.”

  “Kratos,” Kongming said, gesturing to the corridor adjoining the engine room, “should we investigate the rest of the ship while Mr. Garibaldi extracts the trillium?”

  “Yes,” Kratos agreed, “Rucker and I will accompany you; Team Two will remain to stand guard over Mr. Garibaldi.”

  The trio left the engine room and made their way toward the craft’s bridge. The ensuing corridors were largely unmolested, but when they came to the door which led to the bridge—which was not sealed like the engine room had been—there was a series of unmistakable religious markings all across it.

  One such marking stood out to Kongming’s mind above all others: the Yin and Yang. It was relatively crude, but it was impossible to deny that it and a hundred other recognizable religious symbols were plain to see on the door.

  “Wait,” Kongming instructed, drawing a hard look from Kratos who had been about to open the door. Again the urge to remove his helmet was strong, and this time he felt compelled to oblige it. “Can you confirm that the air here is breathable?”

  Kratos paused, “My suit’s sensors do not detect anything harmful in the air—though it is foul enough to induce retching in most.”

  “I will take that chance,” Kongming said, and before Kratos could object he popped the seals of his helmet and confirmed with his own nostrils that the air aboard the ruined ship was indeed foul enough to warrant retching. He breathed through his mouth as Kratos clomped his way over to him and grabbed him by the collar.

  “You were not granted permission to do that,” Kratos growled.

  “I know, and I am sorry for the breach in protocol,” Kongming apologized, “but there is something here…something…new.” He could not explain how he knew this to be true, but he did know it. He felt the hairs on his neck begin to stand and a moment of clarity soon followed which felt very much like when he had communicated with the Seer several weeks earlier.

  Whatever the case may be, Kongming was determined to understand the nature of these urges which he felt confident had some connection to the experience he had come to know as ‘Sight.’

  But seconds passed and nothing further happened. If anything, his moment of clarity receded in his consciousness until not even the barest hint of it remained. He sighed and gestured toward the door, “We should locate the distress signal.”

  Kratos gave him a studious look before releasing his grip on Kongming’s collar and clomping his way back to the door. Placed his hands on the manual handholds recessed into the door itself, he pried them apart and revealed the dimly-lit bridge beyond.

  “You have come,” Kongming heard a strange, tinny voice say from somewhere on the bridge, “the stars themselves can attest that no harm is intended by this perspective.”

  Kratos was about to move into the bridge, and it seemed to Kongming that the hulking Tracto-an had not heard the voice so he placed a hand on Kratos’ power-armored forearm.

  “Wait, Kratos,” Kongming urged. “Someone is there.”

  Kratos ignored him and kept his eyes focused on the bridge beyond, and brought his blaster rifle up into a ready position as he advanced through the breach.

  “Peace and harmony will forever remain the goal of this perspective; unity transcends division,” the tinny voice said, and suddenly Kongming’s nose was filled with a smell so powerful and complex that he doubled over and began to retch immediately.

  “No…harm!” Kongming forced out between retches. “No…harm…Kratos…no…harm!”

  “Contact,” Kratos grunted.

  “Unity and harmony,” the voice said serenely. “Though there is much which this perspective may yet do in service to the cosmos. Submission is agreeable, and much preferred to violence. This perspective will submit to the will of others in the interests of harmony.”

  “Rucker,” Kratos commanded, “move left and flank it.”

  “Copy,” Rucker acknowledged, and Kongming did his best to drag himself onto the bridge while covering his nose to prevent more of the overpowering odor from entering his nose.

  “Kratos…can’t you hear it?!” Kongming yelled.

  “Stay down, Kongming,” Kratos growled.

  “It’s…it looks like it’s surrendering, Kratos…” Rucker said hesitantly. “And it’s pretty torn up.”

  “Your threat assessment?” Kratos demanded while Kongming staggered to his feet.

  “I mean…” Rucker said dubiously, “I wouldn’t let any unarmored person too close to it, but it’s no danger to us.”

  Kongming soon saw what they were referring to, and his breath caught as he realized what they were looking at.

  Measuring nearly three meters long, and bearing a hundred or more short legs beneath its insect-like body, was what could only be a so-called ‘brain bug.’ Kongming had studied them while aboard the Pride of Prometheus, and while little was known of their true purpose within Bug society it was clear that they occupied a tier just below that of the queens which spawned the many different types of creatures collectively referred to as ‘Bugs.’

  Apparently, Admiral Jason
Montagne had fought one such ‘brain bug’ during his extraction of Lady Akantha from the Bug Scout Marauder which had been departing Tracto upon the Lucky Clover’s inaugural arrival to that star system. This variety of Bug was clever, powerful, quick, and able to direct the actions of any nearby Bugs through as-yet unknown mechanisms. Some had suggested the species’ possessed some form of telepathy, though the skeptics were quick to point out that telepathy was functionally impossible without extreme cybernetic grafts—and even then it hardly qualified as what most people thought of as telepathy.

  This particular specimen was in a terrible state, to put it mildly. It seemed to possess only a handful of working legs on the under-side of its shrunken and wrinkled carapace, and only one badly-damaged ‘arm’ remained attached to its torso. Its head was badly scarred as well, with nearly a third of it missing along with one of the creature’s large, multi-faceted eyes.

  “There is no malice here,” the voice stated calmly, and then Kongming realized he wasn’t actually hearing the voice—he was smelling it!

  Or, if not completely smelling it then he was in large part processing the messages via his olfactory system, which brought so many questions about these ‘brain bugs’ into focus as he realized what was happening.

  “It is communicating with me, Kratos,” Kongming said hastily.

  “I ordered you to stay down,” Kratos snapped.

  “I will do as you command,” Kongming complied, kneeling on the floor in supplication to the towering Tracto-an, “but I beseech you: do not kill this creature.”

  “It is a Bug—a ‘Sky Demon’,” Kratos sneered. “Why should I not kill it?”

  “Because,” Kongming said quickly, gesturing to a nearby patch of intricately-scrawled calligraphy similar to what he had read in the ship’s engine room, “this creature created all of this writing. It is intelligent, it can communicate with us, and it is asking us not to kill it. Perhaps we may yet be forced to end its life,” he pleaded, “but in light of this unprecedented discovery—the discovery of genuine intelligence among the Bugs—should we not allow Captain Middleton to make that determination?”