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

by Caleb Wachter

  With ten minutes before the Independence-class missiles came to bear on the trapped Imperials, Hephaestion reported, “Incoming transmission from Admiral Edelweiss, Captain.”

  “On screen.”

  Edelweiss’s previously haughty, carefree features filled the screen and, for the briefest of moments, Middleton could empathize with the man who had been so clearly and utterly defeated.

  “As a Rear Admiral in the Imperial Navy and Lord Commander over this Task Force,” the white-haired said officiously, managing to project a professional demeanor even in defeat, “I hereby offer our absolute surrender under the Articles of War.”

  Middleton gestured for Hephaestion to put him on with the Admiral, and soon Middleton’s face filled the screen beside the Admiral’s as he said, “As the Supreme Military Commander of the Alliance Gorgonus, I accept your surrender under the Articles of War. Heave to, strike your reactors, and do nothing to sabotage your vessels from this moment forward and you will be received with the dignity and respect that is lawfully afforded to enemy combatants.” Middleton leaned in toward the pickup and did his best to project his true meaning and feelings on the subject as he continued, “But you need to understand that if I suspect any measure of bad faith in your actions, either on your part or the part of your subordinates, I will be forced to deal with you as mutineers.”

  “Mutineers?” Edelweiss repeated incredulously. “On what grounds?”

  “You just surrendered your ships to me, Admiral, and I accepted your surrender,” Middleton said with a tight smile. “Under the Articles of War you referenced, anything you do from this moment forward that jeopardizes my ships, including sabotage or attempts to seize what is now my property, will constitute mutiny.”

  Edelweiss bristled, “I find your interpretation of the Articles to be most unorthodox, Supreme Commander.”

  “Nevertheless,” Middleton shrugged, “you either accept my terms or you take your chances with those missiles—you’ve got three minutes to strike your reactors and heave to, or even I won’t be able to save you from a well-deserved dose of reciprocity.”

  Edelweiss actually looked like he was ready to take his chances with the missiles as he cut the connection. But, thankfully for all involved, his ships collective struck their reactors two minutes later, prompting Middleton to send the disarmament codes to the inbound storm of missiles.

  Thankfully, those codes successfully disarmed the missiles which collectively engaged braking thrusters and slowed to the point that it would likely be possible to retrieve them.

  “Call in the Void Hunters,” Middleton said, suppressing a shiver at the thought of the felines running amok on the Imperial warships. “Order them to arrest the Imperial crews of these ships and recover any survivors who might have escaped the destruction of their ships. Once they’ve secured the Imperials they are to begin stripping those ships of their small arms, power armor, and other removable hardware on the double—also tell them to do whatever they can to crack the Imperial databases and find the return ETA for their reinforcements. Coordinate with Chancellor Foles’ office so that her people can receive the prisoners planet-side, and instruct her to immediately send ships to facilitate their transfer. Toto,” he finished by turning to his Helmsman, “let’s go collect a few of those disarmed missiles.”

  Middleton suspected he wouldn’t have time to actually take control of the Imperial warships, but it didn’t look like he would need to in order to utilize them in the upcoming battle.

  He had something else in mind for those oh-so-tempting targets, and while it might not be much in the grand scheme of things it could still prove instrumental in achieving the optimal outcome of the battle he was quite certain was coming his way—and which would make this little dust-up with Edelweiss look like a schoolyard brawl by comparison.

  Chapter XXVIII: Clarification

  “The MDP agreement you sent over will have to be ratified by a special session of the System Congress,” Chancellor Foles reiterated after nearly twenty minutes of dragging her feet. “I cannot force this issue, Supreme Commander Middleton; the gears of politics turn slowly in this star system.”

  “Pardon my bluntness,” Middleton said levelly, “but this isn’t some hare-brained theory of mine. Rear Admiral Edelweiss wouldn’t have surrendered his ships after achieving a relatively stable position near your system primary unless he intended to reclaim them. We’ve already encountered Imperial commanders who scuttled their ships rather than let them fall into our hands; the standing orders therefore must be to deny enemy forces—forces like mine,” he added emphatically, “the opportunity to seize Imperial assets. Such seizure requires between two and five days, depending on a variety of factors, but the AG Fleet has already demonstrated an ability to incorporate Imperial hardware on the shorter end of that timescale.”

  “You presume much,” Chancellor Foles said coolly. “However, we cannot do the same. There are protocols in place for this type of situation and we are obligated to follow—“

  “I don’t think you understand me, Chancellor,” Middleton interrupted harshly, “so let me make this clear: Admiral Edelweiss isn’t expecting reinforcements ten days from now. He’s not expecting them five days from now—he’s probably not even expecting them three days from now,” Middleton said, and for the first time in this insufferable back-and-forth he thought he saw realization dawn on the Chancellor’s face. “He’s expecting them long before we could reasonably expect to take control of the ships he surrendered, and my guess is that they’ll be here in the next thirty hours. Allow me to walk you through precisely why that is,” he continued, hammering the point home even after it was apparent to him that she finally understood the situation, “because his sworn duty includes explicit orders never to aid or abet the enemy, and that’s precisely what he would have been doing by surrendering those ships if reinforcements weren’t forthcoming. If he thought there was a half-reasonable chance that I could turn his surrendered guns against those reinforcements, which I’ve been trying to convince you are on their way here right now, he’d have scuttled every last one of his ships and taken his chances with your mercy in spite of your star system’s name!”

  Chancellor Foles’ eyes narrowed, “You are impolitic in the extreme, Supreme Commander.”

  “Madam Chancellor,” Middleton feigned a gracious nod, “at this moment you could pay me no better compliment. I advise you to retrieve and redeploy as many of your missiles as possible, which will obviously serve as stationary defensive platforms at this point.”

  “I agree,” Foles nodded, “and we can begin by recovering the fifteen which you collected with your ship.”

  “Fifteen out of four hundred isn’t going to make a difference,” Middleton said flatly. “Besides, they’re going to help me use those Imperial ships to our advantage.”

  “You just said you would be unable to seize those warships before the Imperial reinforcements arrive,” Foles chided.

  Middleton shook his head wryly, “Madam Chancellor, this is what I’ve trained for my entire life to do. What I intend for those warships won’t require me to take direct control of them. But in order to pull this off I’m going to need a hundred of your small craft that are capable of reaching the Imperial warships.” He leaned toward the pickup conspiratorially, “I need to give the Imps the impression that your people are taking control of those ships, and I need it to be a believable ruse.”

  “We barely have a hundred small craft capable of interplanetary travel,” Foles said skeptically.

  “You’ve got two hundred and thirty eight small craft capable of interplanetary travel,” Middleton said tightly, having reviewed the Prejudice’s extensive sensor logs prior to this conversation. “And this posturing is going to cost your system its freedom—and possibly the lives of everyone living in it—if you don’t cut the act and send those shuttles to the abandoned Imperial warships before this call ends. Speed is essential, Madam Chancellor.”

  Chancellor F
oles seemed to consider Middleton’s instruction before fractionally nodding off-pickup, “I’ve begun to dispatch the shuttles.”

  “Good,” Middleton nodded, grateful to have finally broken through the bureaucracy’s outer shell. “Have a number of them dock with each of the Imperial warships in accordance to however you would conduct salvage operations.”

  “Salvage operations would require the overwatch of our warships,” Foles said pointedly, and Middleton could not help but laugh.

  “Your knowledge of military protocol betrays your previous protestations, Madam Chancellor,” he said with a good-natured—but pointed—wag of his finger. “That’s right: your warships need to establish and maintain a genuine overwatch of the system. But whatever you do—and whatever you hear, even from me—you need to evacuate your people from those Imperial warships as soon as you can reasonably do so.”

  “Excuse me?” Foles said with apparent confusion before a knowing look slowly spread across her features.

  “That’s right,” Middleton nodded, “and now that we’re on the same page, I think it would be best for the next part of our conversation to take place in the public forum. And let me also suggest you leverage your remaining six hundred Independence-class missiles during any…disagreement we may yet have.”

  Chancellor Foles nodded slowly, clearly following his suggestion. As far as Middleton knew, there weren’t another six hundred Independence-class missiles—though he was confident the System government still had a few tricks up their sleeves. But Middleton also knew that Imperial intelligence-gathering operations were formidable, and any misdirection he could throw out at this stage could pay off handsomely later on.

  “Very well, Supreme Commander,” Chancellor Foles said after a moment’s consideration.

  Middleton nodded to Hephaestion, who switched over from the secure p2p comm. line and began broadcasting Middleton’s conversation with the Chancellor on an open channel. A quick check of the Tactical feeds showed almost a hundred small craft were, indeed, departing their orbital docks with a few more lifting off from the ground.

  “Madam Chancellor,” Middleton greeted, as though the conversation had just begun, “thank you for taking my call. I see that you’ve launched over a hundred small craft; I shouldn’t need to remind you that this is an active combat zone and that my fleet is still securing the area.”

  “Supreme Commander Middleton,” Foles replied with a curt nod as her features resumed their stony, weathered appearance, “we are exercising our salvage claim of the warships which previously threatened our sovereignty. Do not interfere with this process.”

  “My people are already aboard those ships,” Middleton said, projecting the air of a contemptuous warrior who couldn’t be bothered to deal with a politician of the Chancellor’s station, “I advise you to have your ships come about and resume their moorings.”

  “Interstellar law—including the Alliance Gorgonus’ own written accords,” Foles added pointedly after looking off-pickup, “declares that all salvage rights are to be adjudicated first based on the local ordinances. This is a sovereign star system, and as such we are exercising our priority.”

  Middleton saw Hephaestion send a text message to his terminal with, surprisingly, the very statute that the Chancellor had just referenced. Middleton scowled in genuine disappointment; he hadn’t expected the Chancellor to take this theatrical moment to make an actual political maneuver. He silently reminded himself not to be so trusting in the future.

  “All the same,” Middleton leaned forward after confirming the remainder of the statute, “during an active engagement—which I am declaring this to still be—salvage protocol is secondary to defensive efforts. I need those ships, Madam Chancellor, in order to continue defending this star system.”

  “My people will not be intimidated, Supreme Commander,” she spat. “We were not intimidated by the Empire and we will most certainly not be intimidated by you! Our salvage claim is legal and justified—what is not legal according to any coda we recognize or justified in any way is your belligerence and assertion that we must surrender our liberties in exchange for your promised security! We left the Empire to escape that brand of tyranny, Mr. Middleton, and we will die before submitting to it now!”

  She was surprisingly impassioned, which caught Middleton slightly off-guard but he did his best to play his part, “Madam Chancellor, if your shuttles continue on their present courses I will be forced to detain them. Turn your people around before I lose my patience.”

  “You think us defenseless?” Chancellor Foles challenged. “The four hundred missiles we launched against the Imperials were only a small fraction of our arsenal, Mr. Middleton,” she hissed, pointedly disregarding any of his military ranks or titles, “we have a thousand and more where those came from, so it is you who will stand down and permit our people safe passage to our rightful salvage claim.”

  Middleton ground his teeth, “Are you sure that’s how you want to play this, Madam Chancellor?”

  “This is not a game for us, Mr. Middleton,” Chancellor Foles said perhaps a tad too pompously for Middleton’s liking, “this is a matter of principle. Do not push us further in this matter lest you discover the wrath of a free people acting in defense of their liberty!”

  She cut the channel and Middleton gestured for Hephaestion to do likewise. After Hephaestion confirmed the channel was cut, Middleton shook his head and chuckled darkly.

  “She was most…convincing,” Hephaestion observed.

  “That she was,” Middleton nodded, recalling the bit about ‘a thousand and more’ missiles remaining at her disposal when he had specifically told her to say there were only six hundred. Her changing of that number—especially to a much greater number—was no doubt intended to instill a degree of doubt not only in the Imperials’ minds, but also in Middleton’s. “She might have embellished a little more than I’d have liked, but…good for her. Let’s just hope she’s as resilient when the Imps show up. Order the Void Hunters to finish scavenging in the next hour and then to disembark the Imperial warships.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Hephaestion acknowledged. “The Stalwart Commander is requesting permission to bring his ships to the second planet to begin repairs.”

  “What are the latest damage reports?”

  “The Battleship Stalwart Vengeance; Cruisers Endless Hatred and Skull Crusher; Destroyers Pierced Heart, Token Obedience and Oathbound; Corvettes Lost Tail, Determined Flea, Solemn Endurance and Unbroken Vow have suffered extensive damage and will require yard time to return to duty,” Hephaestion reported. “Those are in addition to the outright losses of the Cruiser Favored Son; Destroyers Heartsworn and Guileless; and Corvettes Shattered Vision and Black Kettle. Recovery operations are underway but several of the ships need to be towed to the second planet where the local shipyards can begin repairs.”

  “A Battleship, three Cruisers, five Destroyers and six Corvettes out of commission after a single battle,” Middleton rubbed his eyes forcefully. “That’s a third of the Stalwart fleet.”

  “But only a Cruiser, two Destroyers and two Corvettes were left unsalvageable,” Hephaestion observed. “It seems a small price to pay for liberating a star system, Captain.”

  “Mr. Hephaestion,” Middleton said grimly, “the battle for this star system has just begun.”

  Hephaestion seemed properly rebuked as he nodded, “Of course, sir.”

  “But,” Middleton allowed, “we might have earned ourselves some friends—or at least temporary allies—with our conduct thus far. Let’s hope the locals have the courage to stand for their vaunted principles…Murphy knows it would be nice to see someone actually do that for a change,” he added, chiding himself at least as much as the people he had encountered during the past few years. “Send the Commander my approval for his repair plans, but have him move the rest of his ships to the orbit of the fourth planet in line with the Void Hunters. I want our ships to be able to reinforce each other when the Imperial reinfor
cements get here—which could be at any minute. And tell the Void Hunters to lay their traps immediately.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Chapter XXIX: The Map

  Qaz lay in his berth aboard the Pale Sky, the Corvette to which he had been assigned after revealing a new set of POI to the Supreme Commander. The new POI had included the mysterious planet with the towering structure in the distance and, though Captain Middleton had clearly not known any more about it than Qaz did, the Supreme Commander had still authorized an investigative mission.

  The Pale Sky had left the rest of the fleet several weeks earlier and, in a few minutes, would arrive at the mysterious destination Qaz had ‘remembered.’ Qaz stood from the bed and took the haft of his chain axe in his massive hands. He thought back to the many battles he had won against the rest of the Crafter’s ‘children’ and snorted in a mixture of anger and confusion.

  He had battled against all manner of gene-crafted creatures—creatures at least passingly similar to himself in their mythological origins—during his time in the Crafter’s pits, but he had new memories of battles which he consciously knew he had never participated in. Nevertheless, those memories seemed just as vivid as those which he knew—or was at least supremely confident—he had personally experienced.

  From what few details he could glean, it seemed that these new memories’ originator had been the leader of a large, fractious and contentious group of gene-crafts like those in the Crafter’s pits. He remembered battling a massive, green-skinned lizard warrior with the majestic planetary rings as those he had seen in his vision arcing through the sky. Were it not for that striking detail, Qaz was certain he would be unable to distinguish this ‘new’ memory from his real ones.