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

by Caleb Wachter

  But that would have to wait, at least for a time. Because if he read the demeanor of the crew accurately then they were preparing for yet another battle—and he had his own contributions to make in defense of his new home, the Pride of Prometheus.

  Chapter XXVIII: Last Minute Details

  “Let’s work our way around the table,” Middleton said after the last of his senior officers had arrived. “Chief, why don’t you lead off?”

  Chief Engineer Garibaldi nodded as he leaned forward on the conference room table. “In the three days since the fight with the Cardinal’s Wrath, my people have been working around the clock. We tried to get the Wrath’s systems back online, but there was too much damage done by the ship’s crew before we managed to round them up. So we’ve focused our efforts on the Pride; her forward shield array is at 86%, but the other facings are at max. We’ve patched the damage to the bow’s armor plating and reinforced those compromised areas, and thanks to the extra capacitors and relays we got from Shèhuì Héxié, the rest of the ship’s systems are in tip-top shape. In addition to transferring the Destroyer’s arsenal of ninety Starfire missiles over to the Pride’s cargo bay, we even managed to get a few of the Wrath’s power relays and shield emitters transferred over to the Elysium’s Wing. The corvette’s engines are still a mess, so she won’t be fast, but she can maneuver and keep her shields up and weapons hot if we get into a firefight. I’d put her at 60% of her rated combat performance, maybe 70% if we can minimize her lack of speed like we did against the Wrath.”

  “62% and 76%, Chief,” Ensign Sarkozi cut in, and Garibaldi waved his hand in mock exasperation as he sat back in his chair, ceding the floor to the young Tactical Officer. “The Corvette won’t be able to hold its own unprotected but that should be minimized, since its best role would be providing support for the Pride. If we keep the Wings in formation with us to cover the Pride’s flanks, both ships will benefit from the overlapping firing arcs. These Hydras were specifically designed for group deployments,” she said pointedly, as though it needed to be said.

  Middleton nodded in satisfaction as yet again Ensign Sarkozi proved her aptitude for tactical theory—and her barely-checked ambition. He turned to Ensign Jardine, “How are your new decoys coming along, Ensign?”

  Jardine leaned forward and nodded enthusiastically. “We’ve got six of them rigged and ready to deploy, Captain. It takes Fei Long and I about two hours to rig each one now that he’s worked the kinks out of the software, but we only have enough transponders for three more units. So unless our guests arrive in the next ten hours, we should have nine total decoy units ready to deploy.” He flashed a vicious grin, “I can’t wait to see how they perform, sir.”

  Captain Middleton allowed himself to return the other man’s sentiment as he gave a satisfied nod, “Good work, Ensign. Relay my compliments to Mr. Fei Long.” Middleton then turned to Doctor Cho, “What is sickbay’s status, Doctor Cho?”

  The doctor gestured to the men and women gathered around the conference room table. “Each crewmember has been administered a cocktail of antivirals, in the event a bio-weapon is deployed against us. In accordance with your wishes, the environmental systems have been reconfigured to provide maximum air screening without compromising the priority areas of the ship. Should the bioweapon be introduced to the ship’s air supply, our new protocols should reduce crew casualties by roughly sixty percent. Doctor Middleton,” Cho added hesitantly, “has agreed to provide her expertise in the event we receive casualties.”

  “Very good, Doctor,” Middleton said officiously, keeping the wince he felt from playing out on his face. Doctor Cho appeared competent, but he was still uncertain of the man’s attitude and ability to perform under pressure. And the truth was that Jo, for all her flaws, was the best trauma surgeon he had ever known.

  “Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Jersey said, waiting until Middleton gave him the signal to continue before saying, “I volunteer to command the Elysium’s Wings.”

  Captain Middleton shook his head. “You’ll be needed here, Commander,” he said evenly. “In her current state, the Wings is even less maneuverable than the Pride, so I’ll need my best helmsman here to make sure we don’t concede any unnecessary ground. Depending on how heavy they come, this battle might be decided by inches—and I know you can get me those inches while manning the helm.” Middleton turned to Ensign Sarkozi, “Are you ready for your first command, Ensign?”

  The young woman’s mouth fell open briefly before she snapped a salute, “Ready and willing, Captain.”

  “Good,” he said with a curt nod, “since your ship is the less maneuverable of the two, you’re to coordinate maneuvers directly with Commander Jersey for as long as we can maintain communication. If we lose comm., you take whatever action you deem optimal; I trust your tactical judgment implicitly.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said, and Middleton imagined he actually saw her swell before he swiveled to face Ensign Jardine. “Have all comm. modifications been implemented, Ensign?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jardine replied. “We’ve installed redundant point-to-point laser comm. systems on both ships in the event we experience blanket jamming. Those systems won’t take much abuse, but with eight installed on each ship and with the decoy units also equipped with one each, they should ensure uninterrupted communications until those systems have been destroyed.”

  “All right,” Middleton said, leaning forward and clasping his hands emphatically as he had reached the end of his unwritten agenda. “Any comments? Questions?” he asked before dryly adding, “jokes…criticisms?”

  A short round of chuckles was followed by deafening silence in the conference room which, combined with the looks of determination on the faces of his officers, filled Middleton with a measure of confidence he had not previously possessed. He stood from the table and let a vicious sneer spread across his features before saying, “Let’s go kill some pirates.”

  Chapter XXIX: Twilight’s Fall

  No more than twelve hours after the senior staff meeting, the tactical display on the main viewer lit up and Middleton felt a strange sense of calm come over him.

  “Multiple jumps detected,” the Sensors operator called out as the screen’s flashing icons on the edge of the system began to populate with relevant data. “Reading four…make that, six, vessels inbound.”

  As the icons began to populate one by one, Middleton heard his teeth begin to grind as his jaw clenched tight. “Verify those readings,” he said evenly as he forced himself to sit rigidly in his chair.

  “Verifying,” the woman at Sensors acknowledged tensely. After several seconds, she said, “Readings confirmed, Captain: sensors show four CR-70 corvettes, one Essex-class Light Destroyer, and one Soyuz-class Heavy Destroyer.”

  The orbital path of the planet they had set the colonists down on had brought it adjacent to the newcomers’ point of arrival, and it only took a few seconds for Middleton to deduce they would be in firing range in less than one hour’s time.

  “Helm,” he said after finishing his silent calculations, “coordinate with Ensign Sarkozi over the point-to-point system: we are to make best possible speed to interdict these newcomers.”

  He turned to the Comm. station, at which Fei Long currently sat beside the Second Shift Comm. stander, a petty officer named Rand. “Watch for any outgoing signals, Comm., as well as any jamming activity.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Petty Officer Rand replied, while Fei Long worked at a calm, yet blistering pace at his workstation.

  “Mr. Fei,” Middleton added, and when the young man gave him a short nod without taking his eyes from his console, the Captain continued, “prepare your nearest decoy units along the axis between our two formations, and be ready to maneuver the others into position on my order.”

  “Four units are available for immediate use, Captain,” Fei Long replied calmly without ever taking his eyes off whatever task he was seeing to, “while three more can be maneuvered into range. The ot
hers are too far.”

  “Captain,” Rand said sharply, “I’m receiving a broadcast on all channels.”

  “Put it through,” he ordered, sitting back in his chair as the main viewer morphed into the image of a man with a short, neatly-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard beneath a pair of ice-cold, blue eyes.

  “This is Captain James Raubach IV, of the Rim Fleet Heavy Destroyer Dämmerung,” the man said in a tone that spoke to years of hard-won command experience. “The Pride of Prometheus and her Commander, Tyrone Middleton, are hereby ordered to stand down, heave to, and prepare to receive lawfully-appointed inspection teams. Failure to comply will constitute an act of aggression against the Rim Fleet and the citizens under its protection.” The message cut out, and Middleton quietly released a pent-up breath as he came to know the identity of his opponent.

  Captain James Raubach—apparently the husband of the late Captain Meisha Raubach—was a veritable legend among the Rim Fleet’s pool of officers, second only in stature to his father, Commodore James Raubach III. Middleton had actually attended a lecture conducted by the man, who had stepped in for his father at the last minute during a conference seven years earlier. James Raubach IV was all business, much as Middleton imagined his father was, and possessed as cold and analytical of a mind as Middleton had ever had the pleasure of examining up close.

  But it wasn’t the fact that James Raubach had sent his favored son which worried Middleton. It wasn’t even the fact that Middleton’s people were, on the face of things, outgunned nearly three to one by the six ship flotilla. What concerned the Pride’s Captain most was that Captain Raubach knew who he was up against…which should not have been possible, given the fact that inter-system communication without physical transfer of the data, required access to the recently-defunct ComStat network…

  The Imperials had taken all strategic assets of significant value, or those owned outright by the Imperium of Man, when they had dissolved the Union Treaty some months earlier. The ComStat network utilized faster-than-light communications methods which no one outside of the Empire had managed to duplicate—and it appeared that Captain Raubach and his Rim Fleet had somehow managed to not only prevent the Imperials from reclaiming all ComStat equipment from this sector, but they had somehow gained access to it!

  Captain Rodriguez must have sent a data packet containing intelligence on the Pride and its Commanding Officer prior to Fei Long’s jamming of their signal, and that message had clearly been communicated via the ComStat network.

  “Steady on, bridge,” Middleton said as he felt the tension on the bridge begin to mount. “Time to intercept: forty two minutes,” he said after performing the calculations on his chair’s console.

  Those forty two minutes ticked by one after another, and the Captain was pleased to see that after fifteen minutes, most of his bridge crew appeared to have reigned in their nerves and were going about their tasks efficiently, if a bit tensely—which was more than understandable.

  When the intercept clock wound down to six minutes remaining, Middleton squared himself in his chair. “Comm., open a channel to the Dämmerung,” he ordered calmly after allowing his mind to work through the myriad angles he saw in the situation before him. He grimly noted that the six ships of Captain Raubach’s tiny fleet had taken up a classic, textbook position with the corvettes out wide of the Destroyers in a slightly collapsed ‘X.’ From such a posture, it would be impossible for Middleton and his two ships to gain an advantageous position on any of the vessels.

  “Channel open, sir,” the stander reported after a brief delay.

  “This is Captain Tim Middleton of the MSP Cruiser Pride of Prometheus,” he said as he donned his best poker face, knowing he had never needed it as much as he did just then. “This system and its inhabitants are currently under the protection of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet; all vessels approaching from the hyper limit are to come about and make station-keeping in the interests of avoiding unnecessary hostilities.”

  The viewer once again morphed into the close-up visage of Captain Raubach, whose expression was just as cold and unyielding as Middleton hoped his own appeared. “I’m not going to mince words, Captain,” he said with the barest hint of derision at Middleton’s rank, “you are hereby under arrest for the act of piracy involving a Promethean vessel, and the murder of seventy two people. The latter act will be regarded as a war crime under the Confederation Military Code since the victims had lawfully surrendered prior to your cold-blooded act. Surrender peacefully and there is no need for your crew to share your fate.”

  “Mr. Fei,” Middleton said calmly, as he locked eyes with Captain Raubach through the view-screen, “is the rest of the fleet in position?”

  “All six vessels await your command, Captain,” Fei Long replied in a carrying voice.

  “Can we dispense with the bluff, Middleton?” Captain Raubach asked coldly. “You had your Cruiser, the damaged corvette, my Destroyer,” he said bitingly, “and two merchant conversions available to you. It seems your engineering crews weren’t equal to the task of bringing the Destroyer back online, which would have tilted the board close to even. My sensors show that neither conversion is currently in system, which leaves you just eight minutes before my ships surround and destroy your two vessels—one of which appears to in danger of critical drive system failure.”

  “Captain Raubach,” Middleton said with a nod to Fei Long, whose board immediately flashed with multiple outgoing signals, “your weapons have the same range as mine, but I have eight ships in this system, to which your Sensor operator will now attest. I’ll spare you the suspense and come right out with it: we have six Hammerhead-class Medium Cruisers de-cloaking, in addition to the Pride of Prometheus, and they are prepared to destroy your flotilla at my command.”

  To his credit, Captain Raubach’s features barely flinched after his Sensor operator had been given sufficient time to process the false transponder signals Fei Long and Ensign Jardine had prepared. Those signals supported Middleton’s claim, absurd as it might seem, and it would require several minutes for Captain Raubach’s ships to debunk the signals one-by-one with visual scans.

  “I’m going to give you one last chance to stand down before my fleet opens fire,” Middleton said through granite features, “but when I give the order to fire, I won’t stop until you’ve struck your colors and ejected your fusion cores.”

  For a moment, he actually thought Captain Raubach might not call his bluff. But something glinted in the other man’s eye and his mouth twisted into a contemptuous smirk. “How stupid do you think I am, Middleton? You’ve barely managed to drag two ships to the line, and you want me to fall for a few sensor ghosts?”

  Captain Middleton felt his stomach twist as he knew he had been called. He raised his fingers as the tactical overlay showed the enemy vessels enter firing range, but Captain Raubach’s people beat the Pride’s crew to the punch as the forward shields of the Pride of Prometheus flared, and the ship lurched slightly under the weight of the Dämmerung’s long guns.

  Middleton turned to Fei Long and made a slashing gesture with his raised hand, “Order the fleet to open fire, Mr. Fei.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Fei Long replied as his fingers repeated a sequence of motion a half dozen times before striking the flashing icon on his console.

  A moment later, Captain Middleton’s fleet opened fire.

  The icons of the Light Destroyer and one of the Corvettes flashed rapidly, and when the barrage was concluded both ships’ status indicators went from green to red, with the Light Destroyer flashing gray.

  The Pride of Prometheus added her forward array to the onslaught shortly thereafter, and the Tactical Officer reported, “The Light Destroyer and Number Two Corvette have been completely disabled by the fleet; Number One Corvette’s forward shields are showing critical spotting and their power grid is fluctuating.”

  Middleton locked eyes with Captain Raubach and curled his lip in a sneer. “Eject your fusion cores, Captain, or
the next volley will destroy your ship,” he said in a dire tone before severing the connection.

  When the screen went blank he turned to Fei Long, “How many more of those Starfires can you bring into the fight?”

  Fei Long looked doubtful as he checked his figures, “One of the decoy groups composed of ten Starfire missiles is simply too far, Captain Middleton; its fuel supply would exhaust long before it entered range and would therefore be rendered useless. The other two ‘decoys’ could be brought into play if we maneuver toward the planet, but otherwise they will be useless to us as well.”

  Middleton knew that if he came about now, it would only embolden Captain Raubach, so he shook his head adamantly. “We can’t flinch until he does,” he said, turning to Jersey and adding, “maintain course, Helm.”

  “Been awhile since I played a game of ‘chicken,’ Captain,” his XO replied with a short, harsh laugh as he increased the ship’s acceleration, “I don’t recall being too good at it.”

  “Let’s hope we can say the same of Captain Raubach,” Middleton said under his breath.

  The Sensor operator reported, “Captain, Number Two Corvette is peeling off and making for the hyper limit and the Light Destroyer is dead in space, having already ejected its two power cores. Number Three Corvette is falling back, but the other three vessels are continuing on course.”

  “Their four on our two,” Middleton mused loud enough that his crew could hear him, “standard fare for the Pride of Prometheus, eh Commander?”

  “More targets for our guns,” the Commander replied gruffly, and Middleton could feel the crew increase their focus as the second volley of fire came from the enemy fleet, and this one made the first look like a love bite.

  “Forward shields at 48%, Captain,” the Shields operator reported. “Minimal spotting; working to compensate now.”