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

by Caleb Wachter

  “You worried ‘bout getting stopped?” Lynch asked with open amusement as he manipulated the craft’s controls. “Son, there ain’t been a ship built that could catch this baby. But even if they could, they’d have to see us first.”

  Fei Long’s eyebrows rose in surprise as they hurtled toward the hyper limit. “Impressive,” he said as he sank back into his chair, taking the other man’s meaning to suggest that the craft was equipped with a robust stealth system.

  “Now you just sit back and enjoy the ride,” Lynch said, “we’ll be there before you know it.”

  Less than an hour later the ship point transferred. But unlike every other point transfer Fei Long had experienced, there was no call-out of events as they occurred. Instead, Lynch merely unstrapped himself and called over his shoulder, “We’re here.”

  Fei Long leaned forward and saw absolutely nothing. There were of course stars twinkling in the background, but there were no stars, no planets, and no other ships that he could see.

  “Where exactly is ‘here’?” Fei Long asked.

  Lynch snorted. “I could tell you that, but then I’d have to kill you if your stacks ain’t fat enough,” he said casually. The craft’s bow slewed around and Fei Long saw a tiny speck off in the distance. The object grew larger and larger until he recognized it for what it was.

  “You have a Hammerhead-class warship?” he asked in surprise, and the other three members of his party leaned forward as one as their interests clearly piqued.

  “I got my ways,” Lynch said dismissively. “Now she ain’t all there, naturally; the boys done scrapped out the fusions plants; the forward guns and armor plating on the bow; all three drive units; and a whole list of stuff as long as my…” he grinned as he trailed off. “Well, it’s a long list, got it?”

  Fei Long rolled his eyes; in his experience, those who boasted were unable to support such boasts, but in the interests of diplomacy he thought it wise to keep that particular observation to himself.

  “But the stuff on your list,” Lynch continued confidently, “it’ll all be there.”

  “We had hoped to inquire as to the availability of other equipment,” Fei Long said after the surprise of the situation had worn off. Lynch had somehow acquired a more-or-less intact warship and then dragged it out into the middle of empty space before picking over its wreckage. There were several aspects of that sequence which made Fei Long’s brain itch with curiosity, but he knew he had no place asking those questions.

  “Other stuff?” Lynch asked incredulously. “Y’all gonna basically strip every last scrap of good stuff out of my prime piece, and you’re asking after more?” He turned around in his chair and narrowed his eyes, “If you wasn’t such a geek-lookin’ boy I’d think you was fuzz.”

  “We are not ‘fuzz’,” Lu Bu interrupted, and Lynch looked over at her with an equally stony glare.

  “I don’t know you,” he said before adding, “much as I’d like to, you understand. But I just opened the vault and already y’all is asking for more?”

  “We are looking for communication’s gear rated for no less than twenty megawatts of continuous transmit power; no fewer than thirty Starfire missiles; Liberator torpedoes—and, if possible, the warheads that match said torpedoes…although we understand that is a tall order even for a businessman of your stature,” Fei Long said quickly, hoping to enhance everyone’s calm when he realized that Lynch’s visage had turned dark.

  “Twenty megawatts?” Lynch blurted incredulously. “Y’all are hopin’ to set up your own ComStat network, is that it? And Liberator torpedoes?” he scoffed. “Those been outlawed goin’ on half a century now—and the penalty for even owning one is a date with the dark, feel me?”

  Fei Long and Lu Bu exchanged a quick glance before Lu Bu leaned forward and said, “If you have, we will buy. If you do not have, we find somewhere else.”

  Lynch looked silently between the two of them and said, “You know…the safe play would be to ice you four, right here, right now.”

  Strider and Chen tensed behind Fei Long and Lu Bu, but thankfully no one did or said anything incendiary.

  “But,” he sighed as he turned back to his controls, “y’all are catchin’ me in a generous mood. I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear nothin’ about no Liberator torpedoes…but the other stuff, I might could do some diggin’. It’ll cost you, though,” he said pointedly.

  Fei Long leaned back in his chair and shared a muted look of relief with Lu Bu. “We have ample currency.”

  Lynch jerked his thumb over his shoulder and said, “Best get your head bags and pressure suits on; they’re stowed behind Percy’s chair.”

  Strider bristled at being called by what was apparently his given name, but the four of them quickly set about the task of donning the gear their ‘host’ had instructed them to.

  “All right,” he said as they drew close enough to the warship—which had clearly been involved in a horrific battle, judging by the massive rents torn in its hull, that did not appear to have been made by any human-built weapons—“time to peek under the hood.”

  Chapter XLII: A Fresh Coat of Paint

  “Mr. Lynch has all of this in stock?” Middleton asked after reviewing the report submitted by Mr. Fei.

  “Yes, Captain,” Fei Long replied confidently. “I have personally inspected three of the Artemis laser systems, as well as verified that the vast majority of the ship’s power grid—excepting the fusion cores—is also intact.

  Middleton nodded slowly as he processed the information. It was unlikely in the extreme that a black market arms dealer would have the wreck of a substantively intact Hydra-class warship secreted away, but it was even less likely that said arms dealer would happen to present this vessel to his team when they had very carefully kept their requisition list vague enough to prevent such a man from deducing who he was dealing with.

  He was almost certain that there was a message being sent to him by this Lynch person, and Middleton suspected that the deal would not be consummated until he met with the man. “Good work, Mr. Fei,” he said approvingly. “Now I think it’s time we discussed another matter,” he said, placing the data slate down and fixing the young man with a penetrating look. Fei Long had the good grace to wilt under Captain Middleton’s gaze, but that wasn’t going to placate the Pride’s commanding officer. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Fei Long’s eyes drifted to the desktop and lingered there for several moments before he shook his head weakly. “I…I cannot find the proper words, Captain.”

  “You’re going to have to do better than that,” Middleton said coolly. “Frankly I’m impressed at your ingenuity although I suppose I shouldn’t be, given your record of accomplishments during your time aboard this ship.” He leaned forward, placing his forearms against the edge of his desk while clasping his hands together—a pose he had adopted after seeing his father use it time and again to create a sense of gravity when dealing with Tim or one of his siblings. “But I thought you were smarter than that.”

  Fei Long visibly bristled at that, which had been Middleton’s aim. “Captain…War Leader Atticus was…” he trailed off, and even Middleton was perplexed as to the young man’s loss of verbiage. Fei Long straightened in his chair and shook his head, “I was at a crossroads, Captain. I realize now that I made the wrong decision, but at the time it seemed important that I demand respect from the War Leader.”

  “What makes you think you made the wrong decision?” Middleton asked intently, more than a little surprised at hearing the normally confident young man admit to making an error in judgment.

  “Because of something Kratos said to the others, Captain,” Fei Long replied uneasily. “It was only after some hours of pondering his words that I realized they had been intended for me as much as for his fellow Tracto-ans.”

  “Oh?” Middleton quirked an eyebrow. The conversation had definitely taken an unexpected turn, and he found himself curious as to the young man’s train of thoug
ht.

  “Of course, sir,” Fei Long replied almost dismissively. “He addressed the assemblage in Confederation Standard, sir,” he explained, and Middleton found himself concurring with Fei Long’s conclusion.

  Kratos had been an enigma ever since first setting foot on the Pride of Prometheus, and Middleton knew it was time for him to sit down and speak with the man. It would inform not only his decision as to which punishment should be inflicted on the one-eyed Tracto-an, but also hopefully provide him with an insight into Tracto-an culture.

  For all his mysterious nature, it was clear that Kratos understood his new role better than the majority of his countrymen. Much as Middleton was loathe to entertain the idea, he knew that a man like Kratos might prove invaluable in the events to come.

  “You understand that you are culpable in Atticus’ death,” Middleton said, rather than asked.

  “Of course, Captain,” Fei Long replied stiffly. His body language suggested that he was expecting significant consequences, and Captain Middleton knew it would be in the young man’s best interests if he administered them. But for that particular moment in time, the Pride of Prometheus needed Fei Long’s expertise operating unfettered.

  So Middleton decided to pull one of the oldest lines out of the book as he sighed and said, “I’m extremely disappointed in you, Mr. Fei. I had thought you, of any member of the crew, would be capable of seeing the situation for what it was: a powder keg waiting for a match. Your desire for personal satisfaction very nearly brought this crew to mutiny, and at this point I can only hope that you reflect on that decision going forward.”

  Fei Long visibly paled, and the captain knew he had hit the mark precisely as he had wished to.

  “That will be all,” Middleton said, and Fei Long stood silently before making his way to the door. Once there, he turned and gave one of his customary salutes with his hands clasped before himself, and then exited the ready room without another word.

  Middleton sighed, knowing that if he had been a contemporary of the young man’s—or anyone but his commanding officer, for that matter—he would have congratulated him on not only his ingenuity, but also for his bravery.

  Because Tim Middleton, even if he had been armed with a tazer as powerful as Fei Long’s, would have never stepped in against a man like Atticus.

  Especially not in his birthday suit.

  “Captain…you will join us?” Lu Bu asked in surprise.

  “Yes,” he replied simply as he set down a duffel near one of the large, curved couches which Lu Bu was certain had some sort of pretentious name that she had no intention of learning. “I’d like to meet Lynch. While I’m doing that, you’ll take the rest of the team to the surface and conduct another round of requisitions.”

  Fei Long nodded approvingly as Li activated the yacht’s piloting interface. “Your presence will be welcome, Captain,” he said a bit less enthusiastically than Lu Bu had come to expect of her boyfriend during his dialogue with the Pride’s commanding officer.

  “Just pretend I’m not here,” Middleton said as he sat down on the couch and produced a handful of data slates which he began examining intently.

  Lu Bu decided to do as he instructed and went to check that their cargo—which represented nearly half of the wealth which had initially been aboard the sleek yacht. She was incredibly nervous about safeguarding it, and having Captain Middleton along only served to heighten her anxiety.

  But after a thorough round of checks she was satisfied that everything was where it should be—and that Strider had not come within five meters of it, which was easily her top concern at that moment.

  The sleek craft slid out of the shuttle bay and began its journey toward the hyper limit with Li, Chen, Lu Bu, Fei Long, Strider, and Captain Middleton each passing the time as their duties required.

  “You got my message, I see,” the man at the top of the staircase said, and Middleton immediately recognized him from the limited intelligence he had gathered on arms dealers operating in the Capital system.

  “I did,” Middleton agreed, and the other man began to pour a pair of drinks. “And I came alone.”

  “Brave man,” Lynch chuckled as he finished pouring the drinks. He offered one to Middleton, which he accepted, and the arms dealer gestured for them to sit at a nearby booth with purple velvet cushions and gold filigree on the wooden frame. “What do you think of the place?”

  Middleton looked around, noting the generally dark and greasy-looking metal bulkheads. He counted nearly seventy people participating in the dancing below, which was driven by music to which he had never understood the appeal. Thankfully, that cacophony was dampened where they sat. “As a base of operations,” he said, paraphrasing an old holo-vid line, “you cannot beat a nightclub.”

  Lynch smiled, exposing a grill of teeth that were made of at least as much diamond as tooth enamel. “My thoughts exactly, Captain Middleton—or should I call you ‘Lieutenant Commander’?”

  Middleton had expected the other man to know who he was, so he shrugged as he took a sip of the drink. It was considerably stronger than anything he had drank since college, but there was a smooth, warm sensation accompanying the vicious bite which he had never quite tasted. “I’m not sure either one is appropriate, given the nature of our interaction,” he said, knowing it was well beyond illegal for him to be brokering a deal with a black marketer of any stripe, let alone one of the most wanted men in the Spine. “Tyrone will do, although my friends call me Tim.”

  Lynch nodded approvingly as he hammered down his own glass in one go. He barely seemed fazed by it, but Middleton wasn’t about to take that particular bait. He drew another sip from his glass and felt its savage kick once again, and suspected that if he could get Garibaldi a bottle of whatever it was that his friend would pull double shifts for a month with no complaints.

  “Ok, Tyrone,” Lynch said as he leaned forward. “I’m gonna cut through all the creeper dung and get down to it: y’all’s organization has been making it very difficult for a certain group’s operation out here, feel me?”

  Middleton quirked an eyebrow, “My organization? I wasn’t aware any other MSP vessels were operating this far out.”

  “You mean to tell me that you, all by your lonesome, have been kicking them Raubachs in the teeth up and down 23 and 24?” Lynch asked, his eyes locked onto Middleton’s, “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Believe what you will,” Middleton shrugged. “I wasn’t aware I needed to convince you of anything for our business dealings to proceed.”

  Lynch narrowed his eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, we already doin’ bidness,” he said evenly, “and I ain’t never backed outta no deal—I also ain’t never turned on one of my friends. But there ain’t no dealer this side of the Drift crazy enough to deal with a fed, especially when he starts askin’ around for Liberator torpedoes.” The arms dealer leaned back in his cushioned seat and his visage softened slightly, “But you and I might have more in common than you think.”

  “You mean to suggest we have the same friends or the like?” Middleton scoffed, making no attempt to hide his derision at the notion.

  A twinkle entered the other man’s eye. “Nah, dawg,” he said before snapping his fingers, prompting a pair of comely women wearing virtually nothing to ascend the stairs and approach, “I do you one better than that.”

  One of the women slid into position beside Lynch, her eyes never wavering form Middleton as the other one—an identical twin, apparently—placed a data slate on the tabletop in front of Middleton. “What’s this?” he asked, gesturing to the slate but making no attempt to pick it up.

  “That, Tim, is free,” Lynch said as he kicked his feet up on the table, “and I don’t generally give samples so you might consider it a token of goodwill.”

  Middleton was intrigued, so he picked up the slate and began to peruse its contents. Inside was a host of raw information which took him several minutes to process. When he was finished, he placed the slate on
the table and nodded slowly. “Ok, you’ve got my attention. What is it you want?”

  “Nothin’ but your word,” Lynch said casually. “I know a man like you is good for it, but you’re gonna have to look me in the eye when you give it.”

  He knew he was making a proverbial deal with the demon, but the information Lynch was suggesting he had at his disposal was simply too valuable to pass up. “I can’t make any guarantees,” he said heavily, “and I need you to understand that I’ll be court martialed just for asking this, but…” he hesitated, knowing that he was unlikely to ever find such a perfect deal again, “what is it you want?”

  Lynch’s smile faded and he leaned forward, his gaze turning hard as he said, “You give me your word that you’ll stop foolin’ around at the edges and go straight at the heart of that bastard’s operation, and I’ll give you the info on that slate.” His face slowly twisted into a lopsided grin as he added, “And if you trade me that fancy ride y’all rolled up in, I’ll even throw in a couple sweeteners that just might give you a fightin’ chance against that Imperial son of a bitch.”

  “Commodore Raubach?” Middleton pressed, knowing he needed to be absolutely certain of what he was being asked. “What do you have against him?”

  “The Commodore and I go way back,” Lynch replied, “since before the Union Treaty. I ain’t goin’ into no details, but I’ve been waitin’ for a long time to get my shot at him.” He leaned back and sighed, but Middleton suspected it was not a gesture the man was used to making. “He took out half my fleet not a week after the Imps pulled out, and my little birds tell me he’s been a busy boy since then. His operation’s doubled in size and that ain’t good for a man like me.”

  “So you’re looking for someone to do your grunt work,” Middleton concluded dryly.