No Middle Ground (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride)

by Caleb Wachter

  “What’s your name?” Middleton asked, looking down at the kneeling boy inside the cell.

  The boy looked up at him, and Captain Middleton saw his eyes quickly snap up and down his Captain’s uniform. “Captain Middleton,” the boy said with obvious relief. “I have been trying to gain an audience with you since we left my home world, but my ‘superiors’,” he spat the word disdainfully, “aboard this ship informed me that it would not be allowed.”

  “Your name, recruit,” Middleton repeated, in no mood for further wordplay with anyone in that particular moment.

  “That is a somewhat complicated question,” the boy said hesitantly, and Middleton realized that unlike his countrymen, he had almost no accent. “I can say with absolute conviction that the name on my embarkation paperwork is that of ‘Wang Xiu,’ which is itself a dull and uninteresting name, and not the one with which I was born.”

  Sergeant Joneson handed the Captain a data slate, which he accepted and perused for a moment. It confirmed that the boy’s name did in fact appear to be Wang Xiu, a troubled youth who was arrested for multiple accounts of what would be considered petty larceny on Capria, as well as a few counts of public indecency.

  Further confused at why such an individual had been brought on board, with little or nothing in the way of the desired qualifications his department heads had outlined, Middleton gave an exasperated shake of his head. “I’m not in the mood for games,” he said with an unyielding glare, “so you had best explain to me who you are, why’re you’re on my ship, who you’re working for, and why you’ve been sending these encrypted transmissions.”

  The boy made to stand, but his hands were bound behind himself and were in turn connected to his also-bound ankles. “This is…awkward, Captain,” he began after a moment’s pause. “But to answer your questions succinctly and in order: first, my birth name is Fei Long. Second, I believe you were deceived by my government into taking me aboard under a false identity—although I must admit I am overjoyed to be here. Third, I am—and would very much like to continue to be—working for you, though in my humble opinion my talents are sorely wasted in your Environmental department cleaning air scrubbers. And lastly, I have not sent any ‘transmissions’ in the plural sense. I did, in fact, access your hyper dish’s emitter today—for the first time, I might add—and sent an admittedly unauthorized transmission with the intention of gaining this audience with you so we might discuss your recent breaches in security, as well as further a particular…project which I have long held most dear.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Middleton considered the young man’s words and replayed them in his mind as one of the Lancers entered the brig carrying a small crate with an assortment of what looked to be personal items.

  “We secured his bunk, Sergeant,” the Lancer said with a respectful nod to the Captain as he set the crate down on a nearby table. “Pretty typical stuff, except it looks like he’s been tampering with this data slate, judging by the tool marks on the back.”

  “That…umm,” the boy named Fei Long said quickly with a look of unmistakable, sheepish guilt on his face, “I was just making some modifications for…efficiency purposes.”

  Joneson took the slate from his subordinate and tried to activate it but was met with a password lock which he showed to the Captain. “What’s the password?” the Sergeant growled.

  “Is this really necess—“ the boy began.

  “The password!” Joneson snapped, and even Captain Middleton felt the urge to jump at the man’s deep, booming voice.

  “It is…uh,” the boy said hesitantly before slouching in resignation, “rotk11.”

  Glowering at the boy for several seconds, the Lancer Sergeant tapped away on the slate. The slate chimed, indicating the password had been correct, and Sergeant Joneson’s eyebrows shot up briefly in surprise before lowering thunderously as he hastily deactivated the pad. Captain Middleton noticed the large man’s face go red as he growled, in what seemed to be a rare display of genuine outrage, “I should have you flogged, boy!”

  In the face of discovery—of what, exactly, Middleton did not yet know—the boy’s eyes darted left to right in a mixture of embarrassment and open fear of the towering man standing just outside his cell. “Ok…this is not precisely how I had envisioned this meeting proceeding,” he said meekly. “But Captain,” he continued, turning toward Middleton as much as his bonds would allow, “you have a serious breach of security on this ship and I believe I am the only person who can close it.”

  “The only breach I see,” Joneson snapped, “is the one on this slate!”

  The young man winced. “I have indeed transgressed, and you should punish me accordingly. But before that happens at least let me show you what I have learned?” he pleaded.

  Middleton had no idea what Sergeant Joneson had discovered on the slate, but from the look on the other man’s face he could wait to find out. “All right, Fei Long,” he said coolly, “you’ve got my complete and undivided attention. I hope for your sake you’ve got something worth bringing me all the way down here,” he said, uncertain of what the young man’s true intentions were but determined to discover them as quickly as possible.

  Fei Long took a deep breath. “During my time aboard the Pride of Prometheus, I have indirectly detected six distinct signals which appear to have been generated by someone aboard this vessel,” he explained. When Middleton arched an eyebrow, the boy added, “I will explain how I was able to detect these signals later, I assure you. I believe you are aware of three such signals, but are unaware of the others, correct?” he said, with a pointed look at Ensign Jardine, who to this point had been silent.

  Even if this was all a ploy, the boy now actually did have Middleton’s attention. “Go on,” he said evenly.

  Fei Long nodded in satisfaction. “As I suspected; the signals you have already detected are easily traceable, given one knows when and where to look for them. The others are less obvious, for a few reasons, all but one of which are irrelevant at this particular moment.” He took another deep breath and exhaled quickly before continuing, “The main reason you did not detect these signals is because they are not ‘signals’ in the traditional sense; they are deliberately formed patterns in your ship’s strange particle field which, when viewed through the proper lens and recorded in their own ‘language,’ can combine with the other message fragment to complete the entire transmission.”

  Middleton’s eyebrows rose in surprise and he turned to Ensign Jardine. “Is this possible?”

  The Ensign looked doubtful for several seconds as his eyes snapped back and forth. “I suppose it could be,” he admitted, “but that would mean someone had to gain access to the strange particle generators.”

  “That is inaccurate,” Fei Long said with a chuckle before hastily adding, “I mean no disrespect, of course. These field fluctuations are not created by the generators, but rather are made with subtle adjustments of key gravity plates located throughout the ship at the correct time. These adjustments are so minor that the people inhabiting those areas might not even notice these adjustments as they take place.”

  Ensign Jardine nodded slowly. “I suppose it’s possible,” he allowed, “but that’s too far out of my field, Captain.”

  Fei Long made as if to throw his head back, but his bindings prevented him from doing so. Still, he uttered an incredulous, strangely arrogant laugh before saying, “Information in any form is well within my field, Captain. But, for obvious reasons, you are likely reluctant to either take my word in this matter or to allow me to physically assist you at this time. So I have a proposition: in Environmental maintenance locker number six there is a crate marked ‘one-one-six-two-three-four-nine.’ Inside that crate is what could be considered a ‘strange particle lens;’ using that lens, your Communications officer should be able to record this second, concealed portion of the whole message just prior to your ship’s hyper jump.”

  Middleton nodded slowly. “And what if all of this is a trick o
f some kind?” he asked calmly. “Or, assuming you’re telling the truth, what if the person sending these messages realizes we’re onto them?”

  Fei Long shook his head adamantly. “I have no reason to deceive you, Captain. Indeed, if I had wished to remain unnoticed I could have easily done so and continued cleaning your air filtration units as the tragically named Wang Xiu. To the second matter, even if the individual—or individuals—who authored the message wished to do so, they would be unable to destroy the message fragment at this time. We are already too deep into the Pride’s jump cycle to affect the field in any way via the ship’s gravity plates. However,” the boy said as his eyes rose to meet Captain Middleton’s with a hardened look that took Middleton by surprise, “if you find that I have deceived you in any way, shape, or form, I ask only that you kill me in whatever fashion you deem appropriate, as that is the only proper punishment among my people for mutineers.”

  There was a brief silence, during which Fei Long never once took his eyes off Middleton’s. “We should increase security at the sensitive parts of the ship pre-jump, Captain,” Sergeant Joneson suggested gruffly.

  Middleton knew that Joneson’s suggestion was likely in the best interests of the ship, but to follow the Sergeant’s advice would increase the likelihood that whoever was sending these messages would realize they had been discovered. He briefly weighed the alternatives as he saw them before nodding his head.

  “Do it,” he ordered after deciding that, in this particular instance, the Pride’s immediate security trumped all other concerns of which he was aware. “I want a full-time Lancer posted on this prisoner, as well,” he said as he turned and left the brig, gesturing for Jardine to follow. He paused just as he reached the door to the adjoining corridor and added, “If he so much as sneezes in a way you find suspicious, treat him as a clear and present danger to the ship and dispose of him accordingly.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sergeant Joneson acknowledged with gusto before activating his com-link and issuing orders to his Lancers.

  An hour later, a security team had successfully retrieved the contents of the environmental locker which Fei Long had identified and brought it to the officer’s conference room.

  After a few tests, Ensign Jardine appeared more than a little surprised to confirm that it did in fact appear to be a crude, yet surprisingly effective, strange particle detector. Moreover, it seemed to have been built using materials present on board the ship…all except for the actual ‘lens’ of the apparatus, which was some kind of strange, crystalline fragment of unknown origin.

  “Can you use it to record the supposed message fragments we’ve been leaving in our wake?” Middleton asked after Jardine had completed his inspection of the half-meter long piece of patchwork components.

  “I believe so, Captain,” he agreed, shaking his head in obvious admiration, “this kind of thing would have earned me my master’s degree in pretty much any Communications field—if I had the vision to build it, of course. Even if I had the wherewithal to design and assemble it…I can’t imagine getting it done in less than three months’ off-duty time.”

  “Is it possible he brought it with him from the planet?” Middleton asked, more than a little disturbed at what his Comm. officer was suggesting: that Fei Long was some kind of prodigy. More disturbing still was that his government had essentially snuck him aboard the Pride in what appeared to be a surreptitious attempt to get rid of him.

  “I’m afraid not, Captain,” Jardine said with a shake of his head. “Every single piece used to make this thing—except that piece of crystal—has at least a partial serial number that matches up with a piece of equipment that’s been logged as missing in the last two weeks. The last piece was reported missing just twenty hours ago, so he clearly just finished putting this thing together.”

  Nodding in satisfaction at Jardine’s disquieting assessment, Middleton waved his hand at the odd-looking, patchwork device. “Where do you need to be in order to use it?”

  “I think I can collect the readings anywhere except Main Engineering or sickbay’s imaging chambers,” he replied confidently. “If you don’t mind, maybe we should keep it here?”

  “Do it,” Middleton instructed. “Do you need anything else to get your readings?”

  Jardine shook his head. “I don’t think so; I can patch into the ship’s power grid behind that panel there,” he pointed near the doorway. “It should take just a few minutes to hook it up, sir.”

  “I don’t want this thing anywhere near our computer hard-lines,” Middleton said flatly.

  “Of course not, sir,” Jardine agreed. “I’ve already taken the liberty of disconnecting the hard-lines running into this room to ensure we don’t have any unwanted computer virus uploaded into our system.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Middleton asked, uncertain whether he was willing to trust both the prisoner’s integrity and Ensign Jardine’s abilities in such a delicate matter.

  “There’s really nobody on the ship who would understand this thing as well as me, Captain,” Jardine assured him, “Science Officer Mankins was the only other person who could have helped, and he...” he trailed off, since they both knew that Mankins had died during the bioweapon attack. He nodded to himself confidently before adding, “I’ve got this, sir.”

  “All right,” Middleton nodded eventually. He knew that Jardine was the most expert person on the crew in this regard, and he had to learn to trust his subordinates if the Pride was ever going to function at peak efficiency. “When can you take the images?”

  “I’ll need to wait until the last few seconds before we jump,” the Ensign replied confidently. “The strange particles won’t reach minimal excitability before then, and until they slow down this thing doesn’t have the fidelity to get a readable image. I’ve already set a countdown timer,” he added, gesturing to a backward running chronometer on a nearby console. “Everything’s ready as far as I can tell.”

  “Good,” Middleton said with a measure of confidence he didn’t truly feel. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the Ensign said, and Captain Middleton turned and left the conference room.

  When he was in the corridor, he opened a channel to Sergeant Joneson on his com-link.

  “Joneson here, Captain,” the other man greeted.

  “Have you increased security throughout the ship’s vulnerable areas?” Middleton asked.

  “Tight as an airlock, Captain,” Joneson replied. “And our prisoner’s behaved himself so far; barely even moved since you left.”

  “Let’s hope for his sake he stays that way,” Middleton said, still wholly unconvinced that this wasn’t all some kind of ploy on this ‘Fei Long’s’ part, assuming that was even his real name. “I was meaning to ask you,” he added belatedly, “what was on his data slate that got you so worked up?”

  The link was silent for several moments before the Sergeant replied hesitantly, “I’d rather not say over the link, Captain.”

  Middleton stopped in his tracks. “If it’s something pertaining to ship’s security, Sergeant—“

  “I assure you that I’ve personally dealt with the situation, Captain, and will make a full report after we jump,” Joneson promised. “But that particular threat to shipboard security has already been contained.”

  “I don’t like this cryptic nonsense, Sergeant,” Middleton growled, thoroughly fed up with all the word games his crew seemed to enjoy playing recently.

  “Trust me, sir,” Joneson replied awkwardly, “you’ll understand when I explain.”

  “I hope so,” Middleton said shortly as he resumed his trek to the bridge, “Middleton out.”

  Chapter XI: A New Player

  Captain Middleton sat rigidly in his command chair, watching as the countdown to point transfer neared zero.

  “Field generators at maximum; strange particle activity has reached the hyper jump threshold,” reported Ensign Sarkozi who, in lieu of a proper Science
Officer, had been assigned the duty of overseeing hyper jump protocols.

  “Jump in three…two…one,” Helmsman Jersey reported, “jump.”

  There was the familiar sense of vertigo which always seemed to accompany hyper jumps aboard the Pride of Prometheus, after which Ensign Sarkozi reported, “Jump successful, Captain. We have arrived in the target system.”

  “Inertial sump drain is six percent higher than anticipated,” Helmsman Jersey grumbled, “compensating with secondary engines now.”

  A few moments later there was a wholly unexpected, yet barely audible, ‘thwump’ as the ship broke free of the strange particle field which protected their vessel from the otherwise inescapable pull of gravity during point transfers.

  “Status report,” Middleton barked, bracing himself for sabotage of some kind to the ship.

  “We’ve broken the sump, Captain,” Helmsman Jersey reported only slightly irritably. “But there was more resistance than usual.”

  Middleton activated the com-link in his chair and raised Jardine. “Jardine, report.”

  “All systems green here, Captain,” the Comm. Officer reported promptly. “My equipment has already been secured.”

  “Good work, Ensign,” Middleton said, grateful to remove one possible variable from the equation. He turned to Ensign Sarkozi, “What do you have, Sarkozi?”

  “Reading a trio of vessels, Captain,” she replied after a brief check of her people’s instruments. “Two civilian transports and one unidentified vessel; all three ships are already within medium firing range, Captain.”

  “Battle stations,” Middleton barked. “Helm, come about to present our bow to these ships; Shields, divert all available power to the forward emitters. Engineering, have Chief Garibaldi go to combat output on the engines. Comm., squawk our ident codes and MSP authority,” Middleton finished, with each department head going to work even before he had finished issuing the orders.

  Middleton hated to give information away to potential enemies needlessly, but protocol demanded that when vessels jumped within such close proximity to one another they broadcast their ident codes immediately to avoid unnecessary fraying of nerves—or, more accurately, to avoid unnecessary exchange of fire between potentially friendly vessels.