Up The Middle (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride Book 2)

by Caleb Wachter

  “They are hiding their resources,” Atticus concluded confidently. “How do we find them?”

  Middleton had to keep a smirk from his lips. For all of the War Leader’s faults—which included a narrow perspective and focus—he was unerring in his efficiency and dedication to winning any conflict in which he found himself. It was a quality which they would need in abundance during the coming mission.

  Fei Long, however, made no attempt to hide his smirk – a smirk which seemed to convey some deeper meaning, but Middleton could not guess at what that was. “Well put, Atticus,” he said levelly as he erased the images from the screen and showed a fresh view of Sector 24 without including Sector 23. A dozen systems began to strobe yellow and Fei Long explained, “These are the Star Systems in Sector 24 which possess—or which we have reason to believe possess—high-powered astrometric arrays with databases which, for one reason or another, were never directly connected to the ComStat network. They represent our best chance to, as the War Leader so aptly put it, ‘find whatever resources our adversaries are hiding’.”

  Middleton nodded as he swiveled his chair around to sweep the assemblage with his eyes, and found them all attentive, focused, and eager-looking—even Navigator Strider. “In the interests of expediency,” he explained, “we’re going to make for the nearest of these systems. We’ll then attempt to synchronize the Pride’s Navigation computer with the astrometric data they have and see if our hypothesis proves out.”

  “That be makin’ our destination Zhu’s Hope,” Strider said with certainty, and several eyes turned to him in surprise—including Middleton’s.

  “He is correct,” Fei Long said with a faint note of praise in his voice. “We will arrive there in twelve days if we are unimpeded.”

  “Good,” Middleton said before fixing his new Navigator with a withering look, “but I’ll expect you to speak Confederation Standard on the bridge, Navigator, and that includes proper grammar, understood?”

  The former pirate captain rolled his eyes. “Oh, aye, Captain,” he replied.

  Middleton wanted desperately to lay the man out in front of the group, but he knew that to do so would compromise the positive energy with which they now found themselves suffused.

  So he leaned back and said, “In addition, any crewmembers who were not aboard the Pride during our previous tour will find themselves requiring Sergeant Gnuko’s crash course in power armor, as well as a round of hand-to-hand combat training with Lancer Lu Bu. I’d like those instructions to begin immediately, Sergeant,” he said, allowing his gaze to linger on the clearly annoyed Navigator before adding, “I think Mr. Strider here has shown himself eager for the exercise. See that he gets it.”

  “Yes sir,” Gnuko said, briefly allowing a grin to flash across his face while Lu Bu gave the Pride’s Navigator a look like she might give a cockroach that had recently wandered beneath her boot.

  “Dismissed,” Middleton said before making eye contact with Toto. “If you would stay a moment, Mr. Toto?”

  The massive uplift puffed his chest out and popped his lips as the rest of the officers stood from their chairs.

  “And I’m only going to say this one more time,” Middleton reiterated heavily, “none of this information makes it to the general crew, clear?”

  “Tri-Locscium, sir!” they replied, and he nodded agreeably.

  “Carry on,” he said, and one by one they filed out of the room until he was left alone with the enormous uplift—who was apparently on the small side for his kind.

  Middleton stood from his chair and moved to one nearer Toto. After sitting down he asked, “How is your family acclimating?”

  Toto popped his lips before peeling them back, revealing several missing teeth that somehow only made the ones that were still there all the more impressive. “Pride is good ship,” he rumbled, his cybernetic implants flaring with activity as he spoke Confederation Standard, “we thank Captain Middleton for this chance.”

  Middleton shook his head pointedly, “It’s me who should be thanking you; those gunboats of yours are going to come in handy. But I want an honest answer: how is your family acclimating?”

  Toto narrowed his eyes before rolling his head around in some odd expression which the Captain didn’t recognize. “Children never have this much room,” he said in what Middleton took to be a warm tone, “cleanest air, best food, no Hunt Packs; as father I cannot ask more than their safety.”

  Middleton nodded slowly, “And your wife?”

  Toto chortled, which was a far more enveloping and room-filling sound than any laughter which Middleton was capable of authoring. “Life mate fine engineer—Pride not have better. She work hard; earn her keep.”

  “I don’t think there’s any question that your family is going to pull its weight around here,” Middleton chuckled. “All the same, we’ve got a lot of Tracto-ans aboard and they’re not exactly known to be the most…tolerant people.”

  Toto’s eyes narrowed as he shrugged stiffly, “Conflict inevitable; we not initiate. Good for children to learn defend themselves,” he added with another shrug, this one more relaxed.

  Middleton thought about the Sundered’s reaction, which he had not exactly expected. “You’re not on a pirate station any more, Toto,” he said slowly as he worked his way through his reply, “we have to hold ourselves to a higher standard. I’ve got no problem with your family defending themselves if there’s a problem,” he said with a pointed look, “but whenever possible, it would be best if any harassment was handled through official channels. Do you understand?”

  The Sundered peeled his lips back once again, and this time Middleton was certain that the absent teeth made the present ones that much more intimidating in appearance. But the ape-like person’s posture was relaxed, so Middleton did his best to remain likewise. “You ship leader,” Toto agreed, “we follow rules. If rules not help us…” he said with a narrow-eyed look.

  “You have my permission to depart as soon as it’s reasonably possible,” Middleton assured him. “I cannot stress that enough: I will not hold you, or your family, or your equipment, here against your will. My Executive Officer and I are both trained Tactical Officers, but you’ve got more actual battle experience than both of us put together; I consider your presence to be a luxury that I will do my level best to look after. Do we understand each other?”

  Toto’s chest reverberated deeply with harsh, grating laughter as he slapped his open hand on the table, giving Middleton an apologetic look after he had done so—there were not many pieces of furniture present on the Pride of Prometheus which could withstand an adult, male, Sundered’s expressions of joy or happiness, which the slap clearly was.

  “You not need us, we not need you,” Toto said knowingly. “Alliance is not allegiance.”

  “Exactly,” Middleton said as he felt his eyebrows climb in surprise. “I’m glad we see eye to eye on the matter,” he said before shifting gears, “how are your gunships coming along?”

  “Repairs good,” Toto replied with a nod of approval, “first ship repairs finished; second ship repairs take two more days. Main ship need more work…two weeks to finish.”

  Middleton nodded slowly. “So your remote-controlled vessels will be combat-ready in two days and your control ship will take a few weeks…we can put them up in the shuttle bay for that the next couple of days, but as it sits right now we can’t deploy our shuttle in a combat drill with all four vessels crammed in there.”

  Toto nodded knowingly. “Life mate speak with Ga-ri-bal-di,” he said, stressing the syllables as he said the Chief’s name, “he say can build cradles on hull in three days.”

  Middleton nodded approvingly. “I can live with three days,” he said agreeably. “And we can keep your main ship in the hangar indefinitely.”

  “Family sleeps on main ship,” Toto said brusquely, “too long live with pirates…no sleep elsewhere.”

  “I can’t say I understand,” Middleton said, meaning every word. He could not
imagine living in a place like the Omicron and worrying whether or not your children would be taken and, literally, eaten in the middle of the night. A hard airlock and a not-inconsequential amount of polarizable hull plating between your loved ones and the would-be diners would go a long ways toward peace of mind. “But seeing as your children are making themselves useful down in the shuttle bay as well, it’s a win-win as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Good,” Toto said, and Middleton stood from the chair.

  “I’m glad to have you aboard, Toto,” he said, offering his hand.

  The uplift eyed Middleton’s hand for a moment before also standing and, as a parent might do with a newborn, delicately gripping Middleton’s hand in the universal—for primates, anyway—gesture of trust, respect, balance, and equality. “Glad be here,” Toto replied.

  Chapter XIII: Girding Up

  Fei Long worked at his private station as he put the finishing touches on his first complete batch of ATTACK DOGs. He had been pleasantly surprised to find that Lieutenant Commander Terence Spalding’s suggestion regarding how to bypass his recurring processor issue—by incorporating a grav-cart’s processor, of all things—actually worked. The young man had to grudgingly admit, in the privacy of his own thoughts, that the old—possibly senile—engineer had accumulated a vast wealth of real world knowledge and experience, and that such experience might yet play a pivotal role in Fei Long’s latest projects.

  The door to his quarters slid open and Lu Bu came into the room. It had been over a week since she had returned to the Pride of Prometheus, and her bruises had only just begun to fade.

  “Fengxian,” he said, greeting her by using her adopted courtesy name—a name which essentially came with her also-chosen legal name, “I did not expect you so soon.”

  She snorted derisively. “Our new Navigator is not half the warrior he previously believed himself to be,” she said as she reached for a towel which he had placed near the door specifically for her to use. “I have demonstrated his failings,” she assured him, and Fei Long took quiet pride in Lu Bu’s steely resolve, “he will likely require several days to regain his smug demeanor.”

  “At which point,” Fei Long said as he set his tools back into their kit, “I trust you will remind him of those same failings?”

  Lu Bu shrugged. “I may…or I may expose others,” she said offhandedly before cracking a grin.

  Fei Long threw his head back and laughed, and she soon joined him. When their merriment died down he shook his head, “Among men, Lu Bu.”

  She nodded slowly and bit her lip for several seconds, but said nothing.

  “What is it?” Fei Long asked warily. “Is there another problem…with Atticus?” he asked, unable to keep his voice from lowering as he said the Tracto-an’s name.

  She gave him a surprised look before snorting angrily. “I could have killed that fool,” she snapped, her nostrils flaring the way an enraged bull’s might, “not once, not twice, but three times in one night! He is of no consequence; I do not understand your insistence on discussing him.”

  Fei Long and Lu Bu had undertaken some variation of this precise argument several times in the last few days, but Fei Long was not about to let the matter rest. “Fengxian,” he began, but when he saw her eyes seemingly burning a hole in his head, he paused and reconsidered his next words before continuing, “I do not know what happened on Tracto, and I am content that it remains in the past. However,” he added, matching her glare for glare, “what happens on this ship is a different matter entirely.”

  She squared her shoulders to him and took a pair of steps, causing his heart to quicken in response. “And what would you do if he was the cause of my distraction?” she challenged before giving him a scathing look. “You are a weakling, Kongming,” she bit out his courtesy name, once again turning it into an insult, “and Atticus is a trained killer. He would toy with you then deny you the peace of death after had wrecked you—and there is nothing you could do to stop him.”

  Now it was Fei Long’s turn to raise his voice. “You think a person’s physique defines their power?!” he shot back. “What a fool you are if you truly believe that, and if you do not then you are merely attempting to goad me. Either way I would advise you not try my patience again, Fengxian!”

  “Or what?!” she snapped, chest-bumping him hard enough that he staggered back several paces, but he refused to surrender this particular battle. “What can you do?” she challenged as she picked up a highly-sensitive calibration tool from the workbench and waved it in his face. “Will you use one of your contraptions on me?” she seethed before tossing the tool back onto the bench, ensuring that Fei Long would need to spend at least twenty minutes recalibrating it later. She stopped mere inches from his face and growled, “You are only as good as your toys, Kongming…without them you are nothing.”

  Fei Long lowered his chin, causing their foreheads to touch as he said, “I made those ‘toys.’ It would be a small thing for me to defeat you even without them, Lu Bu—an almost trivial thing, at that—let alone a thickheaded fool like Atticus!”

  “Prove it,” she glowered, not yielding so much as a millimeter of ground as he pressed his head against hers.

  His mind raced through the possibilities, but every plan of action he could conceive in that moment resulted in his nearly-certain defeat at the hands of his girlfriend—a title he considered tenuous at that moment. This was actually something of a concern to him, seeing as he had never considered he would need to defend himself against the one person with whom he had shared any kind of meaningful connection on the ship.

  She took a step back and shook her head piteously. “You see? Even if there was a problem with Atticus, you could do nothing about it. Your mind is sharp, Kongming,” she said, her voice softening only slightly, “but your body is not.” She then unexpectedly grabbed him by the hem of his robe and pulled his body against hers before planting a firm, wet kiss on his lips, which he grudgingly returned as his hands moved around her waist to the small of her back—as if anything about her could be called ‘small.’ When their lips parted, she placed her cheek against his and whispered into his ear, “It does have its uses, however.”

  Needing no further encouragement, Fei Long began undoing her clothes while she did likewise with his. As they tossed about in a furious, short-lived passion which only the young can know, he almost forgot about their argument and its startling revelation regarding his personal security.

  Almost.

  Chapter XIV: First Down

  “Emergence,” the helmswoman called out, “shield strain is within limits; breaking the sump…now.”

  The Pride of Prometheus shuddered beneath their feet, and Middleton had to admit that the constant practice had produced an even steadier hand at the helm than the Pride had known during the previous mission. Of course, Garibaldi had been as deep into the jump drive as he dared without requiring a complete rebuild, so it was entirely possible that a large portion of the difference was owed to his fastidious nature.

  “Sump cleared,” she reported calmly, and Middleton was glad for her steadfast demeanor. Her name was Marcos, and she was a Chief Petty Officer who had transferred, in a roundabout way, from the Easy Haven crew after requesting to be moved to the MSP proper. She was an excellent pilot with high marks across the board.

  The main reason she had been available for the Pride was, in all likelihood, because of an admittedly troublesome history of substance abuse. But Middleton’s ship was already packed to the rafters with crew who had backgrounds that made hers pale in comparison, so he had snatched her up as quickly as possible.

  “Sensors,” Middleton said irritably, turning his chair to face the Sensors station, “I need eyes on this system.” The Sensors department had been the weakest link in the bridge crew, owing primarily to the Pride’s antiquated equipment, which was so out-dated that it required even experienced operators to completely re-train.

  So instead of re-training a proficient op
erator, he had assigned the task to a young, smooth-skinned Tracto-an man who had shown exceptional communication skills, poise, and intellect.

  “Yes, Captain,” the young man replied as he calmly fought with the cumbersome controls of the aged cruiser’s sensor suite. After several seconds the screen began to populate in a painfully slow fashion, but at least the inexperienced bridge officer—named Hephaestion—was working outward from the ship as he cleared the many grids comprising the star system’s space.

  After nearly twelve minutes—an eternity in tactical terms—the screen was populated with the system’s planets, moons, orbital facilities and other noteworthy features.

  “Scan complete, Captain,” Hephaestion said with disappointment clear in his voice, “I have two contacts in orbit of the colony which I cannot verify at this ranges.”

  Middleton let the man’s grammatical error pass as he called up the objects in question. He quickly deduced, from their distances, trajectories and velocities, that they were small warships engaged in an active battle.

  “Set Condition One throughout the ship?” Lieutenant Sarkozi pressed, and Middleton acknowledged with a curt nod. “Condition One,” Sarkozi said severely after activating a ship-wide intercom channel, “repeat: Condition One. All hands to battle stations; this is not a drill. Repeat: this is not a drill.”

  The gently strobing alert lights began to pulsate in their customary fashion, and Middleton began to examine the raw data more closely. The ships were moving sluggishly, and one of them appeared to be in a decaying orbit.

  After a few minutes of examining their behavior, he concluded that the ship with the decaying orbit would crash land on the planet—if it avoided burning up in the atmosphere—in approximately half an hour. The other vessel looked to be moving better, but not excessively so, as it moved into a more stable orbit while attempting to keep a tactical angle on the falling ship.