The middle ground is all that stands between what is right, and what is wrong, and as such it should never be surrendered. Once the lines become blurred, a person can no longer reliably determine their course. The surest path from clarity to confusion is compromise.
For Captain Middleton, life had been distilled down to a series of battles between people with diametrically opposed ideologies, where competition was the best filter through which those ideologies could be examined and refined. And he, like the late Sergeant Walter Joneson, had resolved to give no ground in that particular battle.
Especially not the middle.
Epilogue I: Advice…and an Airlock!?
“Bu, you shouldn’t come down here,” Doctor Middleton said wearily.
“I am permitted to do so, Doctor Middleton,” Lu Bu said stiffly as she pulled up a stool and sat outside the Doctor’s cell. “Do you wish me to go?” she asked pointedly.
Doctor Middleton was clearly torn, but she shook her head after a brief delay. “No, Bu, of course not…I just don’t want my actions to bring you harm.”
Lu Bu snorted unthinkingly. “Captain Middleton is sagacious,” she replied confidently, “he will understand.”
“No,” the Doctor replied, “I don’t think he will.”
“You must have…faith,” Lu Bu said, failing to find the perfect word. “Now, where were we?” she asked rhetorically as she flipped to page 1853 of Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
“Bu,” Doctor Middleton sighed, “I’ve already read that book.”
“As have I,” Lu Bu agreed, stressing the first person pronoun. “But must do something together; you all I have.”
“That’s not true, and you know it,” Doctor Middleton said sharply, causing Lu Bu to wince at the other woman’s tone. Doctor Middleton took a short break and shook her head. “Bu, you need to understand that I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to spend time together—at least not while I’m in here, which may be for quite a while.”
“If not Lu Bu, who?” Lu Bu demanded. “Doctor Middleton saves lives of crew in sickbay, but then crew turn backs on Doctor Middleton; Doctor Middleton saves whole ship during attack, but none offer thanks!” Lu Bu felt the data slate snap between her fingers as her grip had tightened unexpectedly. “If this how crew treat each other, Lu Bu not wish to speak with crew!”
“Bu, calm down,” Doctor Middleton said with a pointed look at the younger woman’s hands. When Lu Bu looked down, she saw her palms had a few drops of blood caused by the broken edges of the data slate, which she set down on the bench in favor of hurling it in frustration.
“Lu Bu spends whole life in compound,” she said after a moment’s consideration and trying to find the right words. “Until government raid, Lu Bu never speak with outsiders; even when play smashball Lu Bu make no friends; all distrust, or afraid of, Lu Bu. But Doctor Middleton not afraid,” she said, leaning forward. “If Doctor Middleton not afraid of Lu Bu, Lu Bu not afraid of Doctor Middleton or her shadow,” she said fiercely. “We are family, not enemies.”
Doctor Middleton’s eyes had filled with tears while Lu Bu had spoken, and the older woman shook her head softly. “You have no idea how much that means to me, Bu,” she said in a tremulous voice. “Please…I don’t want you be here right now.”
Lu Bu stood from her stool and was momentarily taken aback by the Doctor’s quiet sobs. “If Doctor Middleton wishes,” she said, “I will come back tomorrow.”
Doctor Middleton nodded quickly. “Please do,” she said as she made eye contact with Lu Bu, after which the younger woman nodded.
“Tomorrow, Doctor Middleton,” Lu Bu said before bowing her head in respect and exiting the brig.
She made her way to the mess hall, realizing her stomach had been growling for quite some time. After receiving her tray she sat down at a nearby table and began to eat, as she remembered the doctor’s words.
“Is this seat taken?” she heard a man ask, and she looked up to see Fei Long standing across from her.
She narrowed her eyes slightly and shook her head. “It is not,” she replied in their native tongue. When she was frustrated it became too difficult to converse in Confederation Standard, so she opted for their native tongue.
“Thank you,” the young man replied in kind, and after sliding his tray onto the table opposite hers, he took a bite and sighed. “The only thing I miss about the world of our birth is the cuisine.”
Lu Bu barely even heard his words as she fought against the rising surge of emotions welling up inside her. She had no idea what half of them meant—and the half she did understand made her want to punch herself. She had always been heavily influenced—her mother had said ‘ruled’—by her emotions and urges, and Walter Joneson had helped show her that she could control those feelings if she wished to do so.
“Still,” Fei Long continued, apparently oblivious to the fact that all she wanted was to be left alone in that particular moment, “in my particular case, the merits of life aboard this ship greatly outweigh the demerits, even including the often questionable food.”
She felt her fists tighten and her fingernails—which were thankfully trimmed short—dug into the callouses of her palms. “Some people must worry about more pressing issues than the menu,” she growled in their native tongue.
Fei Long nodded as he took a sip of water. “Of that, I am acutely aware—“
“Then why do you go on and on and on about it?” Lu Bu snapped. “You sound as if you and you alone are inconvenienced by the current state of things!”
Fei Long looked surprised and put his utensils down. “I only meant to make pleasant conversation,” he said meekly—at least, meekly for him. “I am sorry if I offended you; such was the exact opposite of my desire.”
Lu Bu gritted her teeth and held back a dozen scathing things which were dancing on the tip of her tongue. She took deep, angry breaths as she struggled against her impulse to grab him by the collar and make him feel her current frustrations.
Fei Long made a gesture of surrender and stood from the table, collecting his tray as he did so. “I apologize to you, Lu Bu,” he said with what seemed to be genuine feeling. “I know how close you are to Doctor Middleton; I, myself, have visited her to offer my thanks regarding her action on the bridge. I merely wished to offer some measure of consolation,” he said before hanging his head. “It would appear that I have failed in this regard. I shall leave you be.”
He turned and left the mess hall, dropping his tray off on the way out, and Lu Bu felt her ears turn red with the rising anger she felt. It wasn’t that he had particularly offended her, and the truth was she had been guardedly looking forward to her next encounter with the young man. The strength of his character had been proven during their two battles together, and he was the only other person aboard the Pride of Prometheus who was even within four years of her age.
“All members of a unified state fight in his or her own way, each according to their individual talents,” she heard a deep voice from behind her, and she turned to see Haldis, the armorer who had battled the droid unarmored, and with nothing but a drill in hand.
“What?” Lu Bu demanded, rather than asked, before realizing her miscue and exhaling completely before clasping her hands before herself in deference. “I am sorry,” she said, “I do not understand.”
Haldis shrugged indifferently. “That is the lesson I learned after years of shaping metal into arms and armor for others to wield, but did not have the time to relay to you on the gun deck,” he explained. “Our ship is more like a sovereign state than it is an army,” he added with a look around the mess hall, “and once I understood this, it made my adjustment less…difficult.”
“Do you believe I require ‘adjustment’?” Lu Bu asked evenly, trying hard to keep the emotion from her voice.
“As a warrior?” he scoffed. “Of course not; your fellow Lancers speak very highly of you and I have seen with my own eyes that your valor is second to none aboard this vessel.�
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“Then I do not understand,” she said after a brief pause, finding herself strangely uncomfortable with such an unmitigated compliment.
Haldis sat down on the bench across from her and slid his tray slightly to the side. “When I was young—about your age,” he said with an appraising look, “I wanted two things: to be a warrior, and to have sons. I will spare you the details, but during my sixteenth year I took an injury,” he gave a hard look to his metal, prosthetic hand, “that stopped me from joining an army or even a defensive force. On my world, a man who cannot fight is barely a man at all; no woman would choose a cripple to sire her daughters, so both of my dreams appeared to have vanished.”
Lu Bu had never been good with stories but the man had proven invaluable in crafting her Red Hare armor, as well as proven his fortitude on the gun deck, so she remained silent as he continued.
“There was one woman, however,” he said as his eyes drifted into memory, “her name was Phedra and she overlooked my…shortcoming. She was two years my elder when we met during my twentieth year, and I jumped at the opportunity to compete for the right to be her Guardian—husband, if you will,” he added at Lu Bu’s look of confusion. “Hers was not a wealthy family, but they had a large grain farm with fertile soil, ample running water via two, intersecting creeks, and a fine house built of stone atop a ridge overlooking a wide valley. In the end it came down to myself and a brash young man named Laomedon, and she challenged us to ‘create a work which displays dedication to guarding her lands, and her children’s interests.’ We were given one month to complete our works before presenting them on the harvest’s eve.”
“What did you craft?” Lu Bu asked, her mind temporarily distracted from the tumultuous events of the last days—and minutes.
Haldis sighed. “In what I will always remember as my finest effort, I spent every day and night in a nearby forge which my mother’s sister owned. I shaped wood and metal into a series of improved plows to work her fields, specially designed to work in her particular ground. I even borrowed the designs from my brother for constructing a water mill, the major components of which I fashioned at the forge. I was well pleased with the result so, having finished some three days earlier than I had anticipated, I thought I should add another article to it. In that moment, when I decided what that article should be, it was as if something deep inside of me rolled over and presented a side of myself which even I had never seen. Given my shortcomings,” he gave another pointed look at his hand, “I fashioned perfectly-weighted javelins, since those were the only ranged weapons I could use properly.”
“You adapted,” she said, believing she understood the broad meaning of his lesson. “You know you have no future on battlefield, but still wish to defend family while improving Phedra’s farm. This is noble.”
“Aye,” he agreed, “it would have been…but harvest’s eve came and went, and I did not present my creations to Phedra. She would have certainly chosen me over Laomedon—who made for himself a fine sword and shield but clearly did not understand her needs or desires.”
“Why?” she asked in confusion. “Why not present to Phedra?”
“I didn’t want to accept something that was somehow less than my ‘ideal’ life,” he said with a shake of his head. “So like the fool I was, I took my javelins and rushed to the nearest citadel where I attempted—futilely—to enlist as a guardsman. They eventually relented somewhat and made me a smith, where I made a life working metal for men and women with two good hands.” He leaned forward and locked his eyes with hers, and she almost felt like withering under the weight of his gaze, “But not a day goes by where I don’t wish I could go back and drag that fool of a boy down to the harvest festival and make him present his works to the only woman who understood—and accepted—him for what he was.” Haldis then cast a deliberate look at the door through which Fei Long had exited minutes earlier, “I don’t know what you two said to each other, but some things are only clouded with words; actions are what really count in this life. With that in mind, I’ll leave you with one more piece of advice.”
The large Tracto-an stood from the table and collected his tray. For some reason she did not understand, Lu Bu stood as well. She then clasped her hands and bowed her head slightly, “What is your advice, Master Smith?”
There was a pregnant pause before Haldis replied, “Never pass up a good thing.” With that, he turned and made his way to a table further down the line and proceeded to eat his meal.
Lu Bu believed she finally understood the other man’s message and, seeing as what he was suggesting hadn’t exactly been far from her mind even just a few short minutes earlier, she nodded and left the mess hall having completely forgotten about her meal tray.
Fei Long worked his way down the corridor at a leisurely pace. He knew he needed to return to his examination of the intact droid cores, but his heart simply was not in it at that moment. Still, he knew he would find no respite from what others would call a ‘broken heart.’
It wasn’t as though he had shared much time with Lu Bu, but ever since learning of her story from within the confines of his isolated cell, he had viewed her as a source of inspiration. And, as recently as a few minutes earlier, he thought he understood her plight better than most.
But the universe was a fickle mistress, and Fei Long knew it was only a matter of time before all hopes are shattered against the cruel bulwarks of reality. So with a heavy heart he made his way down the corridor, noting airlock number four to his left as he took a step past it.
Hearing footfalls behind him, he turned to see the very person he had contemplated come around the corner and fix her gaze on him. Lu Bu had a hard, strange look on her face, and Fei Long was suddenly more than slightly fearful for his well-being.
“Lu Bu,” he said in Confederation Standard, bowing his head as she approached. “I truly did not wish to give offense; please accept my apology—“
As soon as she was within reach of him, she grabbed him by the collar with her left hand and placed her right index finger against his lips. Fei Long felt his heart skip a beat as she looked around, clearly uncertain where they were.
Not wanting to waste even the extremely unlikely possibility that he was not, in fact, hallucinating, Fei Long quickly turned to the access panel and entered an override code he had learned during his tenure in Environmental as the pitifully-named Wang Xiu. The code would place the airlock’s inner door on a diagnostic cycle, which would complete before the door’s activation registered by Environmental or the bridge crew.
The inner door slid slowly open and, clearly needing no encouragement to do so, Lu Bu shoved him into the two meter square chamber before activating the closing cycle of the door behind them.
“We will only have nine minutes before they discov—“ Fei Long began before Lu Bu covered his mouth with one hand, while placing the other hand where no one—save him—had ever done so.
“Less talk, more action,” she growled before pressing him up against the wall, causing a thrill of excitement like nothing he had ever experienced in his young life to course through his body as the door slid shut and the airlock was plunged into darkness.
Epilogue II: Coming to Terms
“Ensign Sarkozy, have a seat,” Captain Middleton said as soon as the young woman had entered the ready room.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said with a curt nod as she sat down. Her shoulders were tight with obvious anxiety, and Captain Middleton kept his features unreadable as he regarded her silently for several seconds.
“You’ve done an admirable job following Lieutenant Commander Jersey as acting XO, Sarkozy,” Middleton said neutrally. “The ship has barely missed a step following the Commander’s death, and I want to extend my congratulations on a job well done. Managing the duties of both XO and Tactical Officer is a tall order, but you’ve done a better job than I could have hoped for.”
“I’m just doing my job, Captain,” she replied, but Ensign Sarkozy’s eyes told Mi
ddleton that she was braced for the eventual ‘but,’ so he decided to lay it out there.
“Six months ago we shared this office,” Middleton said with a pointed look around the ready room, “and you attempted to file a report. Do you recall?”
Sarkozy nodded stiffly. “I do, Captain.”
“I do as well, Ensign,” Middleton said with just a hint of iron threaded in his voice. “However,” he continued while leaning back in his chair, “to my mind, that particular situation has been resolved. Your actions, your department’s consistently high performance, and your prompt, accurate reports,” he paused fractionally before continuing, “as well as adherence to the codes of conduct to which we as officers must hold ourselves has been exemplary.”
Her eyes seemed to flicker for a moment, as she had clearly not expected this particular turn in the conversation. “I…I only want to serve the Confederation, Captain. My actions have only ever been consistent with what I judge to be in the best interests of the ship.”
“Well said, Ensign,” Middleton allowed with a hint of a smile. “And, judging by your recent behavior, it appears that the…lapse in your otherwise sound judgment six months ago was nothing but a blip on what has otherwise been a truly stellar track record. With that in mind,” he said, standing from the desk and thrusting his hand out pointedly, “I’d like to make your new posting official, XO. You’ll need to hand off your Tactical duties over the next couple weeks while we return to fleet HQ, and I’d like that process to begin immediately.”
Ensign Sarkozy looked completely stunned as she stood from her chair, her mouth barely managing to snap shut before the back of her throat was visible. “Thank you, Captain,” she said while accepting his hand.
No Middle Ground (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride) Page 42
