Why the Raubach engineers hadn’t opted to integrate the stealth suite into the rest of the ship’s astonishingly robust, yet compact virtual network was beyond him. It seemed ridiculous that a human could be better trusted than a DI node with the operation of such a sensitive system.
Another volley lanced back and forth between the Imperials and the AG Battleships, and this time Destroyer Five’s icon flashed red before resuming yellow and breaking to join its wingman, Destroyer Six.
“Destroyer Five’s engines have been hit,” Hephaestion reported hungrily. “Their output is reduced by thirty percent.”
“Good,” Middleton nodded as they drew ever nearer to mine-deployment range of Destroyer Six. “Ready the launcher; we’re at T-minus fifteen seconds.”
When the countdown reached zero, Garibaldi reported, “Launching mines nine through twelve…mines away!”
Middleton watched intently as the four mines drifted slowly toward their oncoming target, Destroyer Six. At the last moment, Destroyer Six made an abrupt course change and avoided two of the mines entirely—but the other two latched successfully onto their hull.
“Too little,” Middleton muttered as he sent the detonation command to the pair of attached mines, “too late.”
Seconds later, the Destroyer’s hull buckled and massive outgassing began to strip the Imperial warship of its precious air supply. Chunks of crystalline hull fragments spun off from the crippled ship as it ejected its fusion core—followed, one by one, by its escape pods. After the pods had cleared the vicinity, Destroyer Six suffered catastrophic damage to its superstructure as scuttling charges rippled up and down her hull. When those charges were finished, nothing remained of the Imperial warships but a cloud slowly-expanding of crystal and metal fragments.
It didn’t surprise Middleton that the Imperials would scuttle their ship rather than surrender it—in fact, what surprised him was that Commander Ricci had willingly surrendered a handful of her vessels after Commodore Paganini’s death. Still, he had hoped to capture some more ships for his fleet and that possibility now seemed extremely unlikely.
“I’m reading powerful sensor pings emanating from Destroyer Five,” Hephaestion said with surprise, “along with rapidly rotating target-acquisition beams.”
“Cut the engines,” Middleton ordered, and Toto quickly complied.
They sat there, drifting through space as Destroyer Five continued pouring detection beams out across them. For nearly a minute, nothing happened—and even Middleton had to catch himself for holding his breath in anticipation.
The Prejudice sat cold, silent, and motionless as Destroyer Five came so near that it was possible the anti-gravity systems aboard the two ships would create enough interplay to set off the more sensitive collision alarms aboard the Imperial Destroyer.
But thankfully the enemy ship passed by without seeming to locate to Middleton’s stealthy warship. Meanwhile her sister ships continued to pour fire onto the AG Battleships, which were standing tall and holding firm just like they were designed to do.
“Destroyer Five is moving off,” Hephaestion reported as the Imperial warship adjusted course and speed to make for the hyper limit while avoiding the vicious firefight between its fellows and Middleton heavies.
“Helm,” Middleton ordered after a few seconds, “lay in a pursuit course: let’s send a few shots into that ship’s engines.”
“Pursuit course, aye,” Toto acknowledged, and the Prejudice slowly complied.
“Enemy has target lock!” Hephaestion reported anxiously, and the Prejudice shuddered as every stern-facing weapon on Destroyer Five lashed out with punishing force against Middleton’s ship.
“Forward shields down to forty two percent; rotating the port shields to the front,” Middleton growled. “Toto: return fire!”
“Firing,” Toto roared, and the Prejudice’s banks of compact turbo-lasers stabbed into—and through—the Destroyer’s stern-facing shields. “Eight for eight,” Toto reported with savage ferocity as he sent the Prejudice into a series of wild, evasive maneuvers. Thankfully, unlike the last time he had executed such high-speed jukes and turns, the Prejudice’s grav-plates were properly controlled by the ship’s central processing system. So while it would have been a lie to say Middleton didn’t feel the maneuvers at all, he was able to continue with his efforts without the rolling, juking and lurching disrupting him.
“Enemy engines are down,” Hephaestion reported, “and they are exhibiting critical power fluctuations—they are ejecting escape pods.”
Toto guided the Prejudice well away from Destroyer Five without requiring orders to do so. Then just like its predecessor, Destroyer Six, Destroyer Five began to eject her escape pods. After the pods were clear of the blast zone, the Imperial warship exploded violently as its fusion core’s destruction added several kilotons of force to the scuttling charges.
“Two down,” Middleton grunted, “six to go.”
“The slavers are opening fire,” Hephaestion reported with surprise.
“At this range?” Middleton quickly checked the Tactical plotter and confirmed that, indeed, the slavers had fired their weapons—which appeared to consist mostly of medium and heavy lasers, though a few single-fire missiles similar to the Starfires Middleton had used in the past were included among them. “Brown-nosers,” Middleton muttered, suspecting the only reason the slavers were firing was so they could appeal to his better nature later on.
Too bad for them, he thought with a smirk, that I don’t seem to have been born with a ‘better nature.’
Still, there was the matter of whatever information the slavers had seemed ready to exchange in return for freedom from prosecution for their doubtless myriad crimes. If that information was deemed valuable enough, Middleton was forced to admit to himself that he would cut a deal even with these slavers in order to acquire it.
In that moment he was reminded of a statement he had made in the past regarding the supposedly vaunted ‘middle ground’ that so many politicians were enamored with. He still believed that middle ground of any sort was nothing but a myth—or worse, a tool employed to deceive—but here he was actually considering making a trade with people who enslaved other human beings and treated them like property.
Shaking those thoughts from his head, he returned his focus to the battle unfolding near the system’s hyper limit.
“Destroyers One and Two have cleared the Battleships’ zone of control,” Hephaestion reported with muted disappointment. “Destroyers Three and Four and breaking off and making a run toward—and likely through—the slavers’ zone of control, and Destroyers Seven and Eight are still engaged with the Duty.”
“Re-establish the p2p with the Duty,” Middleton commanded, and a moment later an icon appeared on his console to show that Hephaestion had succeeded in doing so. Middleton then ordered the Stalwart Commander to focus his efforts on Destroyers Seven and Eight and to disregard the other ships. He suspected the Commander would argue with the orders—or possibly even ignore them—but they were the right call given the circumstances.
Captain Stuart had tested Middleton’s ships and found them to be every bit as deadly as Middleton had hoped they would be. Stuart would no doubt return to his superiors with a report on the Prichtac-built ships, but in the meantime there would be several fewer Imperial Destroyers operating with impunity in this neck of the Gorgon Sectors.
Which, as far as Middleton was concerned, was a win for the good guys.
“The Commander acknowledges the order,” Hephaestion said with surprise, “the Battleships are converging on Destroyers Seven and Eight.”
Several minutes passed as the two pairs of fleeing Imperial warships managed to retreat from the battle. The Destroyers which passed through the slaver formation did not return fire on the pirate ships, which Middleton suspected was the politic thing to do. Destroyers Seven and Eight, on the other hand, were pummeled until they too were destroyed like their counterparts, Five and Six, had been.
<
br /> “Instruct the pirates to heave to,” Middleton said after the Imperial Destroyers point transferred out of the system. The next words he spoke were especially bitter—or perhaps ‘rancid’ would have been a better word to describe them—as they passed his lips, “Tell them we’re prepared to…negotiate.”
If the pirates had information which was valuable enough for the Imps to stage an exchange—and then to use the pretense of such an exchange to spring a coordinated surprise attack this deep into the Gorgon Sectors—then Middleton needed to do what he could to acquire it.
Even if that meant trafficking with pirates.
Chapter XX: The Slavers’ Code
“First I need assurances,” Jasmine Rashid, the tattoo-sporting slaver boss insisted after nearly twenty minutes of back-and-forth regarding whether or not any kind of deal could be struck between them.
“I’m not exactly inclined to meet the demands of slavers,” Middleton reiterated, fixing her image on his conference room holographic projector with a hard look.
“Of course not,” Rashid rolled her eyes. “But I’ve got something you want and you’re standing in my path to freedom. Neither of us likes this position, Captain Middleton, but both of us would like to navigate it without losing any more of our respective people. Besides, we haven’t taken any slaves in two years.”
“I’d imagine that’s because the supply dried up,” Middleton scoffed.
Rashid set her jaw, “Look, I’ve got something that was worth enough to pull those Imps out here and make them pull a double-cross to keep it contained. But before I give it to you, I need your assurances that you’ll let me and my people go.”
Middleton clasped his hands together and leaned forward with his forearms on the desk, “First things first: those two Cruisers of yours are to be handed over to me. The Cutters and Corvettes don’t have any hull markings which indicate they’re stolen, but both of those Cruisers are the property of colonies on the other side of the Gorgon Sectors.”
“And you’re going to return them to their rightful owners?” Rashid scoffed. “If you want my ships in exchange for our lives, just say so. I’m not stupid, Captain.”
“Neither am I, Ms. Rashid,” Middleton said easily. “But I’d be more inclined to release your people if I knew they didn’t hold any capital ships that could give other colonies and innocents out here more trouble than they can handle.”
“Why would I give up the information and my big ships?” Rashid asked, tacitly admitting that she knew her position was less than tenable. But even conceding that it was ‘reasonable’ to surrender fully half of her fleet’s firepower suggested that what she most wanted was to leave as quickly as possible. “It seems to me that one or the other should be ample recompense for permitting us safe passage.”
“What’s got you running scared, Rashid?” Middleton asked intently.
Rashid laughed nervously, “I’ve seen things out here, Middleton…things that I was told couldn’t exist.”
“Such as?”
Rashid shook her head gravely, “No way. If you want the goods, you’ve got to pay the price.”
Middleton leaned back in his chair contemplatively. “So what you’d like is for me to let all but your Cruisers leave the star system unmolested, and then I’m supposed to what…trust that you’ll give me what you agreed to?”
“It’s either that or we go up in a fur-ball right here, right now,” Rashid said simply. “Between you and me, my people are getting more than a little itchy while we negotiate. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep them together much longer.”
“You’re surrounded by my Battleships,” Middleton reminded her. “You’re outgunned three times over and you’re stationary—you can’t run and hope to survive the trip to the hyper limit.”
“You’ve never seen what crews hopped up on slice look like after coming down from a battle high,” she retorted. “Trust me, paranoia like that leads to sketchy trigger discipline.”
Middleton considered the situation for a moment before arriving at a conclusion, “I’ll agree to your terms if—if,” he repeated, holding up a finger pointedly, “in addition to your ships, you transfer your person over to my custody prior to my releasing your Cutters and Corvettes.”
“Me?” Rashid said incredulously before narrowing her eyes. “Oh, I get it—you’re looking to impose some kind of social justice? Give the slaver a taste of her own medicine, is that it?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Middleton said mildly. “But I think you might be inclined to hear what I’ve got to say after you give me this supposedly valuable information you claim to have. That, in addition to the abandonment of the two Cruisers, would be enough for me to sign off on this deal as it sits.”
Rashid looked skeptical, but eventually nodded, “Fine. I’ll leave skeleton crews aboard these ships with orders to self-destruct if they don’t hear from me.”
“I wouldn’t have expected anything less,” Middleton said neutrally, surprised—and impressed—by the woman’s foresight and ability to think on her feet. “I’ll have a shuttle sent over for you.”
“I can’t wait,” she drawled before severing the connection.
“Ms. Rashid,” Middleton greeted as the shackled slaver boss walked down the Deathbacker’s gangway, “welcome aboard.”
Rashid looked around the shuttle bay with unvarnished curiosity, “This doesn’t look like I expected it to look.”
“That’s because you’re not where you expected to be,” Middleton gestured to the corridor, where the Void Hunter escorts prodded Rashid toward while Middleton followed close behind. They made their way to the berth previously used to hold Abyss, the Director Bug, and upon arrival Middleton gestured for the guards to wait outside while he entered the room with her.
“This is a strange ship,” she said as her eyes scanned the interior of the room.
“Let’s get down to business,” Middleton urged.
“Of course,” she nodded, “you’ll need to transmit a security code over a designated channel in order for my people to avoid blowing the Cruisers.”
“They’d be killing themselves in the process. Why would they do that?” Middleton asked.
“Because I told them to,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I’ll provide the code but you’ve only got a few more minutes before it won’t do you any good.”
Middleton knew it could all be a ploy, but in truth even if those two Cruisers were scuttled that would be a positive outcome for the general situation—not as positive as adding them to the AG Fleet, of course, but better they be removed from play than that they remain in the hands of known slavers.
“Here,” he proffered a data slate, “key in the code and frequency and I’ll have my com-tech transmit it.”
She tapped out a surprisingly long alphanumeric and then she provided the frequency before handing the slate back to him.
He reviewed it briefly before forwarding it to Hephaestion with written orders to forward it as the message implied. A few moments later he received a written reply saying the message had been received, and that the Cruisers were maintaining position and status.
“Now,” she said, “let the rest of my people go and we can get down to business.”
Middleton nodded slowly, “I will if that’s what you want, but I might have a better offer.”
“A better offer?” she repeated. “What’s better than freedom?”
“Prolonged freedom,” Middleton replied easily, which seemed to grab her attention. “The Alliance Gorgonus is back, and we’ve got over a hundred warships at our disposal.”
“What?” she asked, apparently dumbfounded. “The AG fell apart years ago; its constituents scattered to the winds—I know because I picked through the bones.”
Middleton could still scarcely believe he was dealing with a self-avowed slaver. But after allying himself with the WMD-deploying Stalwart, the criminally suicidal Prichtac, the mysterious and sadistic Crafter, and even allowing a blasted Bug on
to his ship, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at just how far he was willing to bend in order to accomplish his goals.
After all, if Kongming’s theory about a mysterious human faction out here was correct then he was trapped between the redoubled efforts of the Empire of Man on one side, and this as-yet-unrevealed group on the other. In such a scenario, Middleton needed all the help he could get—even if that help came with morally and ethically abhorrent baggage.
“They did scatter,” Middleton allowed, “and some of them even ended up on the other side of the galaxy. But I’m convinced that the breakdown was the work of the Empire.”
“The Empire?” she repeated skeptically.
“There’s something going on out here, Rashid—something that’s got the Imps nervous enough to re-focus all of their attention on it,” he said heavily. “And I think you know more about what’s going on out here than most. What I’m offering is a chance for your people to survive whatever’s lurking beyond the horizon. It’s not a great chance, I’ll admit, but I think it’s better than whatever plans they might hatch on their own. It’s your choice, but I think your people could play an important role in what’s to come.”
Rashid’s eyes narrowed, “Who are you?”
Middleton flashed a lopsided grin, “I’m the Supreme Military Commander of the Alliance Gorgonus…and I’m asking for your help, not just for the sake of the AG but for your peoples’ sake as well.”
She sat down on the edge of the cot, her eyes remaining fixed with his as she chewed the inside of her cheek absently. “What kind of arrangement were you looking for?”
“I need scouts,” he explained, “and your people have a dozen small ships that could split up into a handful of scouting parties which could serve my interests. I suspect you’re low on trillium,” he said, eliciting a scowl from Rashid which seemingly confirmed his suspicions, “which happens to be something we’ve got in abundance. I’d supply your people with trillium for their jump drives, along with basic supplies if they’re low on them, and task them with scouting key systems in what I suspect will be a war that re-shapes this region of the galaxy.”
The Middle Road (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride Book 7) Page 18
