“That’s why you kitties are so crazy to leap into battle,” Garibaldi muttered.
“Yes,” Mrr’shan said agreeably. “The only way a hunter can prove her worth as a mate is by hunting.”
“How does the…genetic material get selected?” Garibaldi asked uncomfortably as he examined a womb with what was clearly a pair of dead felines alongside seven others who were just as clearly alive.
“It is a complex system,” she explained with obvious unease, “but all matches are agreed upon by their respective clans, who represent the interests of their hunters whenever necessary—including the posthumous interests of their fallen hunters. The gene trade is the beating heart of our economy, Captain Middleton,” she said proudly. “We have already improved reaction times, power-to-weight ratio, and sensory acuity by nearly fifteen percent over our present adult population in the newest batches of younglings.”
“How long does it take for your people to reach maturity?” Middleton asked.
“Two years is our standard maturity period,” she replied, and Middleton felt his jaw fall agape at her answer, which she promptly expanded upon, “thankfully we have cut that to just one year with recent improvements to the pre- and post-birth rites endured by our younglings.”
“How long is the gestational period?” Garibaldi pressed.
“Fifteen weeks from fertilization to live birth,” Mrr’shan said with obvious pride, “with only one week of maintenance required between batches.”
“You can get three births per machine, per year,” Middleton mused, considering the ramifications as he also considered the pending issue of available crews for the ships they were about to divide up at the salvage negotiations.
“We get three batches per machine, per year,” she corrected. “On average each litter consists of six live births, five of which survive the first month of life. After that, mortality rates are effectively zero,” she paused to flash a predatory smile, “until they join the hunt packs, of course.”
Middleton did his best to keep a level head as the profundity of the Void Hunters’ strange—totally alien—society sank in. “I’m not going to lie, Mrr’shan,” he eventually said, “this sounds…barbaric.”
“It is our way,” she said dismissively, “we have merely refined it to the necessary degree.”
“‘Necessary degree’?” Garibaldi repeated. “What does that mean?”
Mrr’shan flashed Garibaldi a look before meeting Middleton’s eyes, “You came to inspect the Lion’s Roar, did you not?”
“We did,” Middleton nodded.
“Then I will show it to you,” she said, “and perhaps what you find will help answer your other questions—but you must remain sworn to secrecy regarding what you learn.”
Middleton shared a look with Garibaldi before nodding, “I understand the importance of protecting this ship. We’ll keep what we learn to ourselves.”
“Especially from the Stalwart,” Mrr’shan hissed, her claws flashing in the dimly lit chamber. “We do not trust them.”
“Understood,” Middleton agreed, unable to keep his eyes from wandering to her deadly claws as he spoke, “we won’t share this information with anyone without your approval.”
“Good,” Mrr’shan gestured for them to follow her down the long, cylindrical chamber near the heart of the ship, “it is this way.”
Middleton was dubious of the value to be gained by placing what amounted to the Void Hunters’ entire reproductive agency adjacent to its largest weapon, but then he supposed he would never understand felines of any stripe.
After several minutes of walking past the seemingly endless banks of artificial wombs, they arrived at another vertical iris. Mrr’shan accessed it the same way as the previous one, and they stepped through into a significantly better-lit room to see precisely what Middleton and Garibaldi had expected to see—except they saw two of them.
Suspended between unfamiliar—but clearly robust—power conduits was a pair of seemingly identical, featureless spheres which were precise matches for the Prejudice’s power core. They were situated to either side of the largest beam emitter array Middleton had ever personally laid eyes on, and for a moment the phallic imagery of the arrangement was impossible for him to ignore.
“The Lion’s Roar,” Mrr’shan said reverently as a team of full-body-garmented Void Hunters pored over a bank of readouts. “It was a gift from the Untouched Mother to us, who became Void Hunters in accordance with her will.”
“The Untouched Mother?” Middleton repeated skeptically as Garibaldi moved to examine the data readouts. The nearest felines laid their ears back and hissed at him as he approached, but a single growl from Mrr’shan was enough to bring them to submission. “Who was she?” he asked as Garibaldi warily began to examine the nearest readouts connected to the twin power cores.
“She came to the Void Hunters thirty standard years ago,” Mrr’shan explained, just as Middleton had surmised she would, “and she gave us the means not only to defend ourselves, but to survive whatever conflict came our way. She told us to await the Great Clash, and that once it came we should lend tooth and claw to it. She was a prophetess,” she said reverently, “and she was our beloved, Untouched Mother, who will forever be a part of us after giving of herself the most cherished thing a mother can give: the gift of life itself! I am proud to claim motherhood to two hundred and eight of the unborn currently growing in the Great Womb, and I expect that number to rise following our great victory here in Mercy’s End.”
“How do you select your…” Middleton searched for the right word before finally settling on the first one, “mates?”
Mrr’shan purred, “The most valiant and ruthless of the hunt packs petition to join their genes with others of equal or higher stature. As Void Hunter Matriarch, mine is the most pursued lineage in the entire fleet. I have an entire team of my Clan sisters who process the initial requests on my behalf, but I personally inspect each application prior to consummation.”
Middleton thought he understood, “So those who died in their hunt packs still have a chance to breed with the most desirable partners…which gives them the equivalent of an afterlife incentive. It’s a system that has elements of religion, economics and basic sociology without ever deviating from natural realities. I’ve got to admit,” he grudged, “I’m impressed.”
“We thank the Great Mother thrice daily for her many gifts to us,” Mrr’shan said reverently, blinking her eyes in rapid succession as she looked at the dual power cores in turn.
“It’s a match, Cap,” Mikey reported after reviewing a second station attached to the power cores. “The wave forms, the outputs, the gravity fluctuations—everything is a perfect match except those conduits, which obviously aren’t Imperial but they’re also unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
“How much do you estimate those reactors have left?” Middleton asked.
“Not a lot,” Garibaldi said sourly, “by my read they’re somewhere between fifteen and twenty percent capacity.”
“You can divine the Roar’s remaining strength?” Mrr’shan asked skeptically.
“I think so,” Garibaldi said confidently, slicing a look Middleton’s way, “we’ve seen this type of setup before.”
Mrr’shan seemed ready to object to his assertion, but shook her head dismissively, “Perhaps now you understand more about my people, Captain Middleton?”
“I think I do, Mrr’shan,” Middleton nodded slowly. “And after seeing what I’ve seen, and hearing what I’ve heard, I think it’s time I made a proposal to you in the interests of the AG Fleet’s long-term interests—as well as those of the Void Hunter Clans. It’s regarding the upcoming negotiations, and it’s an offer I only want to make to you—but it’s also one I can’t accept ‘no’ for an answer to.”
Mrr’shan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as her tail flicked left and right, “What is this proposal?”
“First we need to agree to a few things,” Middleton said firmly, “chief
among them being the ethical treatment of your young during their birthing and…rearing. My offer,” he held up a forestalling hand, “whether you accept or refuse, will have zero impact on the Void Hunters’ current standing within the AG going forward. This is a separate matter pertaining to military hardware—more specifically, pertaining to the eventual upgrade of certain military hardware. In spite of my initial reservations, your people have been exemplary members of the reformed AG. I need to assure you in the strongest possible terms that you will retain absolute autonomy over every facet of your society. This offer, however, will inexorably intertwine the interests of the Void Hunters with those of the Prichtac, and Prichtac herself has authorized me to make these overtures on the Host’s behalf. As such, there are certain…concessions she—and I—will require before entering into such an intimate arrangement.”
Mrr’shan purred loudly enough to rattle Middleton’s chest, “Describe your terms, Captain Middleton, and I will give you our answer.”
Chapter XLI: Striking Accord
“We are confident these counterproposals will be ratified at the confirmation vote,” Chancellor Foles agreed after spending several hours reviewing the paperwork which Middleton and Chairman Lewis had worked with the other AG leaders to craft. The Chairman had been unable to attend this particular meeting, which was more than slightly concerning to Middleton but he knew he needed to press forward and finish this particular deal. “The initial polling data we have received shows uncharacteristic unity across Mercy’s End’s population: our people want to join the Alliance Gorgonus, Supreme Commander. We foresee no insurmountable obstacles on the path to ratifying the entirety of this agreement,” she tapped the data slate deliberately.
“Good,” Middleton said with muted relief, “then I suggest you grant permission to the League’s industrial sector to take up residence around the fourth and fifth planets of your star system so they can begin mining the most easily-accessible mineral assets. Also, the League’s civilian population has expressed significant interest in pursuing migration to your second planet,” he said with a deferential nod to Commodore Cartwright. “In the Chairman’s absence, I understand that the Commodore will represent their interests?”
“On an interim basis,” President Chow said before Cartwright could reply, eliciting a brief but annoyed look from the Commodore. “We have every confidence that the Chairman will resume her duties presently, and trust the Commodore to act in the best interests of the entire League in her brief absence.”
Middleton briefly ground his teeth before forcing a neutral expression, “We wish the Chairman a speedy recovery. Commodore, would you care to conduct the initial negotiations on the League’s behalf?”
“I think I’ve been sufficiently briefed,” Cartwright nodded after a pointed pause to wait for another interruption from Chow—which, thankfully, never came.
“Then I’m adjourning this particular meeting,” Middleton nodded as he stood from the table, prompting all the other attendees—again, except for the Stalwart Commander—to rise as he did so, “and all interested parties can remain to engage in the first round of immigration discussions—which is clearly a non-military matter, so I see no compelling reason for my participation.”
Middleton made his way to the door as the attendees resumed their seats. He had barely taken three steps down the corridor before a woman’s voice called behind him, “Supreme Commander, a word?”
He turned to see President Rosalind Chow closing the door to the conference room behind her, and he cocked an eyebrow in surprise, “You aren’t interested in the immigration discussion?”
She waved a hand dismissively, “My people are briefed on the needs of our constituents; they can handle the opening round of negotiations without me. Is there somewhere private we could speak?” she asked, and Middleton got the distinct impression she thought he was a fly and she the spider.
The problem was that in political terms, Middleton was convinced that particular analogy might not be wholly inaccurate.
“Of course,” Middleton gestured to a nearby compartment which had previously served as Kratos’ berth.
Once inside, Chow closed the door and turned to face Middleton intently. “Chairman Lewis is dying,” she said bluntly. “Her health took a turn for the worse yesterday and, as the most influential member of the League, I think it only appropriate that any prior arrangements you had with the Chairman be extended to me in the event of her death.”
“She’s still alive?” Middleton asked evenly, careful not to let his countenance betray his emotions.
“Of course,” Chow waved a hand irritably, “but she’s an old woman and won’t be with us much longer. We need to think about the future, not the past. The Chairman did a great service to the League by bringing us together and, in our more heated moments,” she allowed, though Middleton could not determine whether or not her deferential manner was merely an act or genuine, “she kept us together. But it’s time for us to move past all of that, Supreme Commander,” she insisted. “It’s time we focus on the future of not just the League, but the entire Alliance Gorgonus.”
Middleton arched a brow, “You don’t think the AG’s future is stronger now than it has been in years—if not ever?”
“You’re at a crossroads,” she said forcefully while jerking her thumb over her shoulder, “and when the dust settles not everyone sitting at that table back there is going to stay the course. My people are committed,” she said flatly, “they’ve been given the opportunity to put down roots and many of them will do so regardless of the dangers. As their President it’s my job to facilitate their collective will, which is why I’m coming to you with this information.”
“What information?” Middleton asked, suspecting she was about to broach the subject of the Stalwart.
“It’s the Stalwart,” she confirmed his suspicions, “my people have been dealing with them privately for quite some time. They provide military hardware and we provide other supplies—supplies like solar collectors, mini-factories, protein sequencers…” she said leadingly.
Middleton drew a breath and exhaled slowly, “You think they’re preparing for a break with the AG?”
“Not all of them, according to my sources,” she allowed, “but at least half of them are, yes. They’re dissatisfied with your leadership, they’re sick of fighting, and some are even ready to renounce their oath to the Prichtac if they won’t be honorably released from it. They think their obligation to the AG has been more than fulfilled and they’re tired of fighting for a cause they don’t believe in.”
“So they’re biding their time waiting for the salvage to be divided up,” Middleton mused, having already arrived at this particular conclusion a week or so earlier. “After that, they’re going to take their leave of the AG.”
“Again,” she reiterated, “not all of them—possibly not even half of them—but that Commander of theirs is going to be leading the exodus. He’s got a lot a pull in their community, and even those who stick with the AG are going to take a hit to morale.”
“Why the sudden change, President Chow?” Middleton asked bluntly. “Why are you looking to help me now when you’ve fought me nearly every step of the way to this point?”
“You won, Middleton,” she said with equal bluntness. “I didn’t think you would, and I thought it was irresponsible for my people to follow you into a suicidal battle—or worse, one that brought a potentially genocidal retaliation from the Empire—but you won and public opinion took a hard turn in your favor. Again,” she said, knifing her hand through the air emphatically, “it’s my job to manifest the will of my people, not to tell them what to think. I made my argument and I lost in the court of public opinion.”
“So you’re looking to regain approval with your voters,” Middleton mused, knowing that her people were scheduled to hold a vote in nine months’ time to elect their President—an election campaign which Chow was eligible to join in a bid for re-election to her current post.
“I’m not offering my submission or subjugation, Middleton,” she said stiffly. “I’m offering to work with you to keep as much of this Alliance together as possible. If the Stalwart break ranks, what’s to stop the felines from doing the same? We can’t afford to lose their ships or their crews, no matter how…distasteful the prospect of working with them may be for us. There’s no turning back now—you’ve committed us to this course,” she drew herself up and proffered her hand. “I’m offering a chance to start anew with you so we can work together to protect those who depend on us. What do you say?”
Middleton was nowhere near vain enough to think he could play this particular game at her level, but he knew without a single doubt in his mind that he would need her support to keep the League engaged with the AG. Without the League, his fleet would lose a third—or more, depending on how the salvage negotiations shook out—of its tactical value. And nine months was a long, long time in Middleton’s book. A working relationship with Chow, assuming the Chairman was indeed nearing the end of her life, would enable a smoother transition to whatever new power structure took hold of the SLL.
He knew this was one of the moments in his life that he could look back on and regret, but the way he saw it he had no real choice. Politics was about compromise, and he had no doubt he would soon be engaged in far more compromises—ostensibly reached to find that much-maligned ‘middle ground’ which Middleton had repudiated for most of his adult life—in the coming months.
But he could see no other way through this particular path than by taking the middle road she offered, so he took her hand in his own and nodded, “I look forward to working with you, President Chow.”
She nodded curtly after shaking his hand and tilted her head toward the door, “I should rejoin the immigration discussion.”
The Middle Road (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride Book 7) Page 40
