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

by Caleb Wachter

  She left the room and Middleton exhaled, hoping he had not just signed a deal with the demon.

  Then he resolved to meet with the ailing Chairman Lewis, whose help had been instrumental to his successes to date. Without her, he seriously doubted he could keep the AG on the same course which had brought it here.

  “I apologize for not rising, Captain Middleton,” Lewis greeted after Middleton entered the medical suite where she lay, “but it seems my time was shorter than I anticipated.”

  “What happened?” Middleton asked grimly.

  “The official diagnosis,” the elderly Lewis replied in an easy tone which belied her intent gaze, “is age-related kidney failure coupled with an unexpected flare-up of an old ailment I first suffered as a child. Unofficially,” she lowered her voice, “I am convinced my end is anything but natural.”

  “Who?” Middleton pressed.

  “Does it matter?” she asked archly. “Let’s suppose your prime suspect was indeed the perpetrator: what then? Would you exact judgment and retribution even if doing so costs you—costs us—the Alliance?”

  “Maybe…” Middleton said steadily, but he was no fool. He knew that the coming days presented their only real chance to keep the Alliance together; if it sundered now then the Empire would sweep through the Gorgon Sectors unopposed. “But probably not,” he finally admitted, seating himself on the chair at her bedside.

  “Then what is served by further inquiry?” she asked simply. “My time was near its end in any case. Hundreds have died—and thousands will yet die—to safeguard their freedom and the freedoms of those they cared for since the League was formed. How is my death any different from a soldier’s, a pilot’s, or an engineer’s during battle? And how is my death’s author relevant to the larger picture—a picture which you and I have worked together to protect?”

  “I can’t believe that none of it matters,” Middleton shook his head adamantly.

  “Perhaps it does matter,” she shrugged before coughing for several seconds. The weak, wet sounds issuing from her throat were completely unfamiliar to Middleton, but even he recognized them as harbingers of the inevitable. After she regained control of her breathing, a nurse came in to offer her a sip of bluish liquid. Lewis refused it and drew a steadying breath, “But I know your mind, Captain. You must not let trivialities like an old woman’s death keep you from doing what you must do.”

  “And what is it you think I must do?”

  She flashed that ageless, commanding smile which he had come to admire in the short time he’d known her, “You must fight, Middleton—and you must win. People like us,” she gestured weakly between the two of them, “cannot afford the luxury of consciences—even more, we do not deserve them. Don’t let pettiness and infighting come between you and victory. If you wish to dispense justice for my death,” she fixed him with a thousand-meter-stare, “then win this war, and do so without regard for the price you will most certainly pay for carrying the burden of command when no one else would dare.”

  She held up her hand invitingly, and even Middleton was touched by the woman’s intensity which easily shone through her haggard and beleaguered appearance. “All right,” he nodded, clasping her hand firmly, “I’ll win.”

  “Good,” she gave a weak squeeze before releasing his grip, “now go, and let me die as I have lived: alone with my demons who, after a lifetime of frustration, it seems will finally have their way with what is left of me.”

  Middleton stood and made for the door, stopping at the portal before turning and saying, “It’s been an honor, Chairman.”

  She gave no reply as he opened the door and made his way back to the shuttle bay with renewed purpose and resolve.

  It seemed the first price he would pay for victory is the abandonment of a lifelong principle which had played no small role in guiding him through the past several years of chaos:

  He could no longer afford to take the high road as he had done in the past by refusing to negotiate with people who were clearly his enemies. But he could not permit those with whom he trafficked to take the low road, as the Stalwart had done when deploying WMD’s against the Imperial citizens of Home.

  It seemed that, like the fabled Goldilocks, Middleton was now in search of the elusive middle road—or the middle ground, as he had previously described it in the conversation with Captain Fitzgerald back in the Spineward Sectors.

  If he could not find such a middle road on which to lead the Alliance Gorgonus, victory would be impossible—and he had come too far to give up at the precipice of success.

  Middleton still had work to do, and with so many depending on him to preserve their freedom he would stop at nothing to finish his task.

  “We find these terms acceptable,” President Chow agreed several days later, after the League, the Void Hunters and the Stalwart had all taken the opportunity to review and approve the general terms of the salvage negotiations.

  “Good,” Chancellor Foles nodded, “we’ll have the documents provided via secure couriers in the next twelve hours. By this time tomorrow, the agreement will be complete and the salvage operation can commence in earnest.”

  “Which brings us to the matter of distributing the salvage equitably,” Middleton clasped his hands and leaned his forearms against the conference table, “since all involved parties have agreed to the general terms of valuation, I propose that formal negotiations begin at once.”

  “We agree,” President Chow affirmed. “The sooner we divide up the salvage, the faster we can get to work on repairs.”

  “We have arranged for joint negotiations to take place in our capitol,” Chancellor Foles said, and frankly Middleton was glad to have these proceedings transferred to a location that wasn’t aboard the Prejudice. “But we have already reached preliminary agreements with the Void Hunters and the League representatives; we invite the Stalwart and Prichtac representatives to join those proceedings in the interests of expediency and transparency.”

  “We are content to vest Our negotiating authority into the Supreme Commander,” Prichtac said. “His actions thus far have well-served the Host and We see no reason to rescind the authority We have previously invested him with.”

  “Very well,” the Chancellor sounded slightly put off, “and what of the Stalwart?”

  “I must speak privately with the Prichtac and the Supreme Commander before joining the negotiations,” the Stalwart Commander rumbled.

  “Very well,” Chancellor Foles allowed after a brief silence as she stood from her chair, “the open negotiations will commence on our planet in thirty two hours.”

  “Good,” Middleton nodded, standing and clasping the hands of the soon-to-depart representatives, “I expect to be in attendance at the negotiations’ outset.”

  The representatives quickly filed out of the room, leaving the Stalwart Commander, Prichtac, and Captain Middleton in the room. Once the door closed, the Stalwart Commander spoke in a deep, inflexible tone, “The Stalwart can no longer contribute to the Alliance Gorgonus.”

  Middleton had expected this moment would come, but he still felt unnerved by the prospect of the aptly-named Stalwart withdrawing from the Alliance Gorgonus.

  “What can I do to change your mind?” Middleton asked levelly.

  “Nothing,” the Commander replied flatly. “We have fulfilled our Oath to the Prichtac,” he said, nodding to the lone remaining member of the Host, “and ask to be released.”

  “You already said your people can no longer contribute,” Middleton said with a hard edge to his voice, “so what difference does it make if Prichtac releases you from your Oath? It sounds like you’ve already made your mind up to abandon your sworn duty.”

  “This does not concern you, human,” the Commander growled.

  “You’re not really that stupid, are you?” Middleton retorted, causing the Commander’s chest to swell with indignation. “The Stalwarts’ withdrawal from the Alliance Gorgonus would be a huge blow to our fighting strength. By abando
ning us you’re condemning the people who fought alongside you in these last battles—battles in which the Stalwart were not alone in expending blood and treasure to win,” he added sharply.

  “We will gladly continue to uphold our Oath,” the Commander deliberately ignored Middleton while focusing on Prichtac, “but we can no longer serve under this…Supreme Commander. Our Oath was to protect the Prichtac, but Captain Middleton has used the Host as leverage to gain control over the rest of us. Come with us, Prichtac,” the Commander pleaded. “We would never abandon you.”

  “Isn’t that precisely what you just said you were ready to do?” Middleton fired back.

  “STAY OUT OF THIS, HUMAN!” the Commander roared, throwing the table nearly a meter as he leapt to his feet and assumed a menacing stance.

  “No!” Middleton yelled. “If you’re going to abandon your duty, then have the dignity not to ask permission from the people who have suffered and died alongside you—people you intend to turn your back on when they need you most!”

  The Commander took several menacing steps on his hands and feet until he stood less than a foot from Middleton—who refused to back down even in the face of the massive uplift.

  “You will lead this Alliance to its doom,” the Commander growled, his hot, rancid breath washing over Middleton’s face as he spoke. “We have already suffered more than anyone else in the Alliance Gorgonus; it is time for us to heal our wounds.”

  “And what about the people who won’t go with you?” Middleton moved forward until his nose actually touched the Commander’s. “What you’re asking is for us to sanction your abandonment of the Alliance—which we can’t do. If you want to leave, then go. The real Stalwart will remain behind and you, like those before you, will become Oathbreakers—you will be like the Sundered,” he said with icy disdain. “I’ve seen what happened to them, Commander…” he said grimly, “and it’s not something I would wish for anyone—not even my mortal enemies.”

  The Commander made to reply, but Prichtac’s artificial voice cut him off, “We will permit those who wish to renounce their Oath to Us to do so without fear of persecution, but the Host is unconvinced by the Commander’s argument. Captain Middleton has performed his role better than any predecessor—including the Stalwart Commander,” she added emphatically, which caused the Commander’s spine to stiffen. “But We cannot endorse the sundering of the Alliance Gorgonus at this fragile moment. Those Stalwart who wish to remain will be regarded by Us as Stalwart; those who renounce the Oath—an Oath with reciprocal arrangements to which the Host remains committed—will be known to the Host as the Sundered who left before them.”

  The Commander seemed unsurprised, but there was a pleading note in his deep, rumbling voice as he asked, “Is that the Host’s final position?”

  “It is,” Prichtac replied sadly. “We have just transmitted Our will to the Stalwart on local comm. frequencies,” she waved the translator, “and have received verification of receipt by the Stalwart crews aboard Our warships. They have forwarded Our will to the rest of the Stalwart; We anticipate a prompt decision.”

  The Commander glowered at Middleton for several long, tense seconds before moving toward the door, “Then consider my Oath the first of many to be renounced.”

  “Your decision saddens Us,” Prichtac said solemnly, “but We understand the nature of your dilemma.”

  “Don’t do this, Commander,” Middleton said pleadingly, stepping forward and splaying his hands. “Don’t abandon the Alliance when we’re so close to achieving our goals.”

  “They are not our goals, Captain,” the Commander growled, “and it is already done.”

  With that, the Commander left the conference room and Middleton stood in silence for a long while. Eventually, Prichtac’s synthesized voice broke him from his reverie, “This was a predictable outcome, Captain Middleton. It is not your fault.”

  “If not mine, then whose is it?” he retorted more harshly than Prichtac deserved.

  “This is the nature of hierarchical social arrangements,” she said serenely. “The Stalwart have been strong allies of the Host in the past, but We knew this outcome was inevitable.”

  Middleton sat in the seat previously used by Chancellor Foles and rubbed his eyes wearily. “They’re going to take between an eighth and a quarter of the fleet with them, Prichtac.”

  “You could, of course,” she said with chilling calm, “kill the Commander and exert social dominance over his people. As Supreme Military Commander, you could invoke one of several military regulations already adopted by the Alliance Gorgonus—“

  “I thought of that,” he interrupted darkly, “but if this alliance is going to stand then it can’t be built on authority alone. We won a major victory here, Prichtac,” he explained, “but it won’t mean anything if we can’t win another…and another…and another after that.”

  “The fracturing of the still-reforming Alliance Gorgonus at this early stage decreases its chances of successfully repelling the Empire of Man,” Prichtac countered.

  “I can’t do it,” Middleton shook his head in negation. “I’ve brushed up too close to that line—and I’ve even crossed it more times than I’d care to remember. I won’t let the ends dictate the means, and I won’t force people to stay when they would rather go. The Stalwart stood tall against the Empire several times,” he said, standing and straightening his jacket, “and for that they need to be respected. I can’t act against their will; I can only plead my case.”

  “You are the Supreme Military Commander,” Prichtac said deferentially. Before Middleton could reply, his com-link chimed.

  “Middleton, go,” he said after seeing Hephaestion was on the other end of the line.

  “Captain, the Deathbacker launched from the hangar shortly after the Commander’s shuttle departed,” Hephaestion explained. “It appears that Toto was aboard the Deathbacker, sir.”

  “He’s not authorized to leave the ship,” Middleton snapped, opening the door and making his way to the bridge. “Recall him immediately.”

  “He is not responding to my hails, sir,” Hephaestion said, and a few seconds later Middleton entered the Prejudice’s bridge. “He appears to have overridden the shuttle’s automated lockouts and is pursuing the Commander’s shuttle.”

  “Blast it, Toto,” Middleton growled. The last thing he needed was a galvanizing incident involving the Commander and Toto—who had warned that the Commander would likely kill him if he learned of his presence. “Keep trying to raise him,” Middleton snapped.

  “Yes sir,” Hephaestion replied perfunctorily, but Middleton knew that if Toto had ignored the earlier hails there was no reason to expect him to acknowledge any in the future. He clearly had a reason for taking the shuttle, and Middleton suspected it involved a fatal confrontation with the Stalwart Commander.

  The two shuttles slid inside the Commander’s hangar bay aboard the Glorious Burden, which was able to move under its own power but still had major structural damage to be dealt with.

  “What is he doing?” Middleton growled.

  “I am receiving a broadband transmission from the Deathbacker,” Hephaestion said.

  “Put it on the second screen,” Middleton commanded, and soon a split-screen display appeared. One of the images was clearly from the nose-mounted pickup on the Deathbacker, and the other was just as clearly a direct feed of Toto’s visual cortex.

  “This is folly,” Toto growled at the Commander as a pair of Stalwart restrained him. “Do not lead our people this way!”

  “Our people?!” the Commander bellowed. “I knew of your presence, coward, and did nothing to satisfy the honor of the Stalwart even though I should have done to your body what you did to our world: Sundered it! I thought that by cooperating with your Captain I could reason with him, but he is an unreasonable human. I was wrong—I should have killed you,” he growled, stepping toward the restrained Toto who defiantly stood his ground while guards restrained each of his arms. “Perhaps it was
your cowardice which infected the ‘Supreme Commander’s thoughts? Perhaps it is you who is responsible for the deaths of my Stalwart brothers and sisters!”

  “You know nothing,” Toto snarled. “When we became Sundered, we suffered. Our young died during Exodus, our olds took their own lives to protect the young from starving, and the rest watched as Sundered were ground to dust one by one.”

  “It is the fate you deserved for your cowardice,” the Commander sneered.

  “If we were cowards, what are you?!” Toto challenged, and the Commander’s nostrils flared dangerously as he bared his teeth. “If we made cowardly mistake in becoming Sundered, you are not only coward—you are fool for making same mistake!”

  “Our obligation is ended,” the Commander spat. “Return to your master before you are also ended.”

  “I have nothing,” Toto roared, “nothing! My wives dead, my family gone, and my people now make same mistake which destroyed so many Sundered.”

  “We are not your people, Sundered—“ the Commander began haughtily.

  “Prove it!” Toto cut him off. “Make different choice from Sundered or you are Sundered.”

  The Commander glared at Toto, who was nearly a head shorter than the towering leader of the Stalwart. He then peeled his lips back from his teeth, “Release him. He wishes death, and he will now receive his wish.”

  The guards flanking Toto released him, and the silver-backed uplift’s cybernetic implants flashed with unusual frequency and intensity. “Turn back, Commander,” Toto growled. “Do not make our mistake.”

  Middleton watched as the Stalwart Commander removed his sidearm and handed it to one of the nearby guards. “You dishonor us with your presence, Sundered,” he sneered before thumping his chest in rapid succession, “you will now pay for your insult.”

  Toto leapt forward as the Commander did likewise, and Middleton watched helplessly as the larger, heavier Commander quickly gained the advantage of Toto and hurled him into a nearby bulkhead. Toto’s head snapped back into the bulkhead, but he managed to defend himself from the Commander’s sledgehammer-like fists as they swiped the air where Toto’s cybernetically-enhanced head had been an instant earlier.