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

by Caleb Wachter

  “What if they are planning something you have not anticipated?”

  Middleton arched an eyebrow in surprise before shrugging, “Then the AG Fleet gets crushed in the next two hours—along with any possibility of preserving its members’ sovereignty—and I imagine our survivors get summarily spaced. At least,” he added as an afterthought, “those of us near the top of the command chain.”

  Imperial One did not, in fact, break off in the thirty second window which had been available to it. Rather than taking a potentially clean exit—as Middleton had doubted they would do—the Imperial Battle Group had opted for, at the very least, a significant exchange of fire with the AG Fleet.

  Middleton was more than happy to oblige them.

  “The Imperial Destroyers are firing,” Hephaestion reported, and Middleton’s tactical plotter blossomed with a handful of reports showing the Stalwart Destroyers had taken a serious beating. One fell totally out of position and two more appeared to have been engine-damaged badly enough that they peeled away from the engagement. Only two continued their burn toward a rendezvous with the inbound League ships.

  The Stalwart warships returned fire, with the eight Cruisers authoring a brutal volley that tore two Lupines out of formation. One of those Destroyers ejected its core while the other drifted forward, driven only by its inertia.

  The Imperial Cruisers returned fire, but the Stalwart heavies’ shields held. The twin, perfectly synchronized Imperial Battleships bored steadily closer to firing range of their own guns. They were like titans observing an epic battle in which they knew they would soon play a decisive part.

  Middleton decided to launch the one hundred twenty missiles which covered the Corvettes and League Carrier. The pack of Destroyers which had gone that way were nearing turbo-laser range of the Corvettes, and would probably cut the last of them down several minutes before they linked up with the Fighter Carrier.

  It would take nearly twenty minutes for the missiles to reach firing position on the quartet of Lupines, but Middleton knew that to delay was to unnecessarily sacrifice ships and their crews.

  The Glorious Burden finally fell into firing range of the Imperial Destroyers—which unleashed a concerted barrage on the lone Battleship remaining to Middleton’s fleet. The Lupines lashed out with thirty combined turbo-lasers in the span of six seconds, twelve of which landed on the Burden’s shields.

  The Stalwart Cruisers returned fire, striking another Destroyer from the Imperial formation in reply.

  Then the Imperial Battleships entered the fray.

  Their best-of-field turbo-lasers tore into a Stalwart Cruiser, the Upright Daughter, and shredded its stern shields before scoring a half dozen direct hits on her hull. The Daughter mercifully avoided engine damage and rolled to present a fresh flank, but it was clear that the Imperial commander was about to make his presence known.

  In unison, the Stalwart warships came about and drove toward the oncoming enemy warships.

  “Blast it, Primarch,” Middleton cursed. The Primarch had fallen victim for the Imperials’ ploy: to come about and show solidarity rather than continue taking stern strikes en route to a rendezvous with the League ships. The Primarch had almost certainly cost himself his Battleship by doing so, but in truth his choice played perfectly into Middleton’s hand—even though Middleton had issued explicit orders forbidding such a decision.

  Wave after wave of fire was exchanged at extreme range as the Stalwart heavies drove for the heart of the enemy formation. The sight of those seven ships charging straight at a group twice their number, with at least six times their throw weight, was enough to make Middleton proud to have fought alongside the Stalwart.

  Primarch Beam apparently understood enough of Middleton’s plan that he was going to do everything he could to see it succeed—including sacrifice hundreds, or even thousands of his people.

  The Imperial ships gladly cut acceleration and focused their fire on the Glorious Burden, striking her robust shields with dozens of beams from all angles in a seemingly endless barrage of fire. But the Burden defiantly—some might have said madly—charged toward its twin Imperial counterparts.

  The Battleships closed to heavy laser range and unleashed a fresh storm of fire which dropped the Burden’s forward shields, then her port shields, and finally her starboard shields went down after a minute of sustained fire.

  The Burden drove steadily onward, initiating a death spiral and firing her own guns at the leftward Imp Battleship while she still had the motive power to do so. The Stalwart Cruisers flanking her added their weight of fire to the effort, and the enemy Battleship was soon forced to present its flank to avoid sustaining direct hits to its forward hull.

  “Come on…” Middleton hissed as the Burden continued its suicidal charge at the enemy. “Come on!” If Primarch Beam and his people could take one of those Battleships down—Murphy forbid it should be the one with the top commander of this Imperial Task Force—it would heavily tilt the board in Middleton’s favor.

  “The League Destroyers are in firing range,” Hephaestion reported, and Middleton had to tear his eyes from the icon representing the Glorious Burden as it made what would undoubtedly be its final charge.

  The twelve League Destroyers unleashed a concerted volley on a trio of Imperial Lupines, knocking two of them out of formation. The six League Cruisers were several minutes behind the fleeter Destroyers, but soon they too would be heard from on this battlefield.

  Middleton’s plotter flashed, showing the one hundred twenty Independence-class missiles he had ordered to launch were now scheduled—but not yet confirmed—to have launched from their silos and would reach firing range in support of the League Corvettes in six minutes.

  Middleton knew that much depended on the result of their eventual fire.

  “Toto,” Middleton said after debating the matter for several minutes, “pull us back toward the third planet. Keep us in line with the fifth planet escape route,” he explained, “and put us three light seconds further from the third planet than Mrr’shan’s ships. Hangar,” he switched his com-link to Garibaldi’s channel, “get ready to drop those last four mines. It’s time to pull out all the stops.”

  “You got it, Cap,” Mikey promptly acknowledged.

  Middleton winced as the Glorious Burden’s engines finally failed, but her guns continued to spew their peculiar brand of violence against the Imperials. With her shields down, the Burden was now totally exposed and the Imperials gouged her hull with sporadic at-will fire instead of the formerly coordinated strikes. One by one, her weapon mounts were scrubbed but none of them—not one—fell silent before it was well and truly destroyed by an enemy laser strike.

  The Imperial ships, however, opted not to gut the Burden as they had mercilessly done to the Stalwart Duty earlier in the engagement. Instead, they appropriately re-focused their efforts on the seven remaining Cruisers. They soon reduced that number to six, as combined fire from the Lupines and Imperial Cruisers skewered the seventh Stalwart Cruiser’s power core, causing explosions to ripple within the ship which shattered its keel and left it a floating tomb for its valiant crew.

  The Imperial Battleships soon added their own fire against the Stalwart Cruisers, and another of Middleton’s heavies was removed from play when it was forced to eject its power cores.

  Middleton watched his board as the ten dozen Independence missiles sent in support of the League Corvettes reached ten seconds on their fire countdown. The clock reached zero, and it was twelve seconds before he received confirmation that they had fired.

  Two of the Lupines tasked with pursuing the League Corvettes were destroyed outright while the other two remained unharmed. The League Corvettes suddenly came about and began to pursue the remaining pair of wolves, causing the Destroyers to bank hard away from the counter-charge. The Imperials would have no difficulty escaping the conflict given their longer ranged turbo-lasers, but they had been forced to abandon their exploration of that particular escape route�
��just as Middleton had hoped.

  “Good,” Middleton muttered as the pursuing League Corvettes split into thirds, with one third pursuing each of the two surviving Destroyers and the last third resuming course to the rendezvous point with the Fighter Carrier. “That’s one path closed, which just leaves two for him to choose from.”

  The League Cruisers finally came into firing range of the Imperial Battleships, unleashing their combined twenty four turbo-lasers into the flank of the Battleship which the Stalwart still fired on.

  Then it happened: the Imperial Commander opted to flee.

  “Imperial One is heading for the third planet,” Hephaestion reported excitedly. “They are breaking off the engagement, Captain!”

  Middleton ground his teeth as the Imperial formation did precisely as Hephaestion had declared. Unfortunately for him, they had chosen the path of actual least resistance rather than the one he had hoped they would take.

  “He’s clever…he suspects a trap right where I’ve put one,” Middleton growled, “but I’m not out of tricks just yet. P2p to Mrr’shan: have her move her people up to engage. The Stalwart and League ships will be able to keep firing on the Battleships and Cruisers for several minutes yet, but Mrr’shan needs to move to engage the Destroyers in the northern hemisphere.”

  “Understood,” Hephaestion confirmed before carrying out his orders.

  Imperial One moved purposefully toward the escape route, which would bring it close to the third planet. Mrr’shan’s people soon began to redeploy in order to receive them, and Middleton decided it was time to send firing commands to the one hundred eighty Independence warheads near the third planet.

  “They’ll want to pass as close as possible to the planet,” Middleton thought aloud, “in order to use its gravity for a banking maneuver. They obviously know there’s a chance we’ve got surprises there, which is why they sent the four Destroyers out first. If we snipe them out, we’ll give our opponent the chance to falter and break for the fifth planet route. If they do that,” he clenched his fist tightly, “we’ve got him—and his ships. If they don’t, we’ve still won this engagement and put the Imperials into a full-on retreat.”

  He sent the missiles commands over the secure link and quickly received their confirmation. He did the same as he had done for the previous ten dozen missiles: he targeted two Destroyers with sixty missiles each while leaving the other sixty missiles in reserve. In conjunction with the Lion’s Roar, it was possible—though unlikely—that he could use those last sixty missiles to scrub all four Lupines before they made their close approach to the third planet.

  The seconds passed by with agonizing sluggishness as the four Lupine Destroyers entered range of the remaining missiles. But Middleton wanted to wait until the last possible moment to unleash their fire—though if he waited too long, the Imps would get a reasonably accurate count of the missiles and realize his bluff.

  Eventually, as he had commanded, two clusters of sixty Independence-class missiles in high orbit of the third planet spat fire at the oncoming Imperial Destroyers. Their targets were crippled, but not destroyed outright, and both ships ejected their fusion cores before a handful of escape pods slowly began to jettison from them.

  The other two Imperial Destroyers continued pressing onward and, just as Middleton was about to send the order for thirty more missiles to open fire, it happened.

  “Imperial One’s main force is changing course…they’re breaking for the fifth planet!” Hephaestion howled. “You’ve done it, Captain!”

  Middleton felt every hair on his neck stand up, but he forced himself to remain calm. It was still possible for the Imperial Commander to change his mind, but Middleton knew it was his job to do everything in his power to make sure that didn’t happen.

  “Have Mrr’shan ready the Lion’s Roar,” Middleton instructed, “have her target the northern Destroyer and coordinate with the following fire solution.”

  He forwarded the packet and Hephaestion grinned as he sent it on to Mrr’shan, who acknowledged receipt several seconds later. Middleton sent the firing codes to thirty of the Independence missiles and, a few seconds later, they opened fire on the Destroyer a fraction of a second before the Lion’s Roar finished the warship off.

  That left one Destroyer, which Middleton decided it was his responsibility to deal with. “Toto, let’s go track down that Destroyer: target their engines and prepare to synchronize your fire with the last batch of missiles.”

  “Ready,” Toto growled, and even he appeared to share some significant degree of Hephaestion’s triumphal mood as he positioned the Prejudice to receive the last of the wolf pack.

  Middleton sent the orders and, sure enough, the last of the missiles-cum-mines struck the Destroyer in the stern shields after it had already passed them. The Prejudice’s eight turbo-lasers bored into the Destroyer’s stern quarter, and while the Lupine did not lose motive power completely it was now clearly unable to flee to safety with less than twenty percent of its thrust available to it.

  “Looks like we won’t need those mines after all,” Middleton said, flashing Hephaestion a grin before ordering, “Helm: bring us into a parallel position to Imperial One. Match the outermost Destroyer’s posture and keep us in extreme range.

  “Yes sir,” Toto nodded, and the Prejudice leapt to comply with Middleton’s command.

  Soon thereafter, the Imperials fully pulled away from the still-pursuing League warships with the Stalwart bringing up the rear.

  Middleton’s mood resumed its cold, calculating nature in the next few minutes as he watched with bated breath while the Imperials drew nearer and nearer to his kill box.

  “It is almost unfair,” Hephaestion said, eliciting a stern look from Middleton.

  “I’m sure they don’t say that when they’re pulverizing people like the League from outside counter-fire range,” Middleton chided, “and if they do, it’s only in self-service to their own egos.”

  “Yes sir,” Hephaestion said, sounding properly rebuked. Middleton liked the young man too much to let him indulge in pride—which had no place on a battlefield as far as Middleton was concerned.

  “It’s time,” Middleton’ declared when the Imperial formation finally crossed the PNR for the kill box, “I’m sending the launch codes.”

  He sent the codes to the eight hidden missile bases scattered throughout the fifth planet’s orbital path. Several minutes later, five hundred heat blooms registered on the Prejudice’s sensors and Middleton knew it was time to issue his ultimatum.

  “Put me on broadcast, Mr. Hephaestion,” he instructed, drawing himself up and looking into his station’s pickup, “and route it through my station.”

  “You are live, Captain,” Hephaestion said professionally, though there was still a victorious note to the young man’s voice that Middleton tried—and failed—to convince himself was worthy of censure.

  “This is the Supreme Commander of the Alliance Gorgonus calling the commander of the Imperial warships in this star system,” Middleton declared, imbuing his voice with as much authority as he could muster.

  His plotter was soon replaced with the visage of a dark-haired woman, whose middle-aged features looked to have been sculpted by decades of the stresses known only to those who took up the mantle of command. Her voice was deeper and more cordial than he expected as she spoke, “This is Admiral Charlize dela Gaultierre II. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

  “My name is Middleton,” Middleton replied, “and I’m offering you a chance to surrender your ships and your selves. No more blood needs to be spilled in this star system, Admiral, but if you refuse this offer I cannot guarantee the safety of your people.”

  “You’re obviously a military man, Middleton,” she said, glancing pointedly toward the bottom of his pickup, “and though I don’t recognize your uniform or its heraldry, you have to understand—“

  “What I understand,” Middleton interrupted, “is that I’m offering you the chance to sur
render your selves and your ships, Admiral. You’ve already had several of your people scuttle their ships to avoid their capture, and while I can respect their resolve to take their chances with the void rather than to run up a proper white flag, I wouldn’t want any more of your people to share their fate.”

  The Admiral’s eyes narrowed, “I am under orders not to allow Imperial arms to fall into the hands of terrorists like yourselves, Supreme Commander.”

  “Again,” Middleton nodded, “I can respect that. And if you choose to test me, I’m sure that some of your people will make it out of this star system with both their lives and their ships. But you don’t know which of your ships my five hundred inbound missiles are going to fire on.”

  “We are not afraid to die, Supreme Commander,” she said with a hint of amusement, “we are Imperial Navy, after all. Dying is in the job description.”

  “I’m offering you something else,” Middleton urged. “I have ships available which can return you and your people to your fleet HQ. I also have Admiral Edelweiss’s surviving crew, along with fifteen hundred prisoners from Commodore Paganini’s Task Force who’ve been with us since we defeated him several months ago.”

  “Paganini?” she repeated. “You took down Paganini? I find that hard to believe.”

  “Really?” Middleton riposted with an arched brow. “Really?” he repeated. “You find it hard, after seeing what I just did to your fleet, to believe that I did even worse to Paganini’s advance force?”