Ed seemed genuinely torn, as his speakers emitted a series of conflicted sounds including what sounded like a cat’s meow, a dog’s whine, and a bull’s snort before his weapon arms lowered and pulled toward his torso. “Probability of Miss Serendipity’s veracity: 93%. Probability of coercion by outside forces: 22%. Probability that Miss Serendipity would deliberately mislead this unit: 7%. This unit will now recognize Miss Serendipity as mission primary and transfers all command authority to her, until such time as original primaries are re-acquired. Please complete command transfer protocols within ten standard hours.”
With that, the machine turned and clomped its way down the corridor, causing Trixie to turn to Lu Bu and beam, “See? Nothing to it!”
Lu Bu was far from pleased with the sequence of events, but she was glad to no longer have assault weaponry trained on her and her teammate, so she reluctantly followed Trixie and Ed down the corridor so they could begin the power plant initialization process.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Garibaldi said as the old-style, mass-production model assault droid clomped down the shuttle’s cargo ramp. “You’re serious about bringing this thing aboard, Captain?”
“Apparently Miss Serendipity can vouch for its loyalty,” Middleton replied, sharing his Chief Engineer’s concerns to some degree, “but it’s been assigned to the Lost Ark for nearly thirty months, and its service record is exemplary according to their logs. I’ve already had its weapons deactivated, and Corporal Lu reports that it’s ready to submit itself to any technician with ‘Bach-level clearance’ for a full checkup.” Middleton turned to his Chief Engineer with a wry grin, “Apparently, serving as the Chief Engineer for a warship assigned to the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet carries sufficient clout to satisfy this level of clearance, so it shouldn’t give you any trouble when you decided to give it a thorough going over.”
“Great,” Garibaldi drawled with a long-suffering sigh as he shook his head.
Middleton clapped him on the shoulder, “We need all the help we can get, Chief. And I don’t know if you’ve thought about it, but an assault droid could come in awfully handy in certain situations,” he said with a pointed look, having considered such situations at some length since learning of the droid’s willingness to transfer from the Lost Ark.
“There’s the Tim Middleton I know and love,” Garibaldi quipped dryly, “always looking for the angles. Meanwhile, those of us stuck in the bilges shift after shift have to clean up after your decisions.” He rolled his eyes with comic emphasis, “That’d be why you’re the Captain.”
“That’s the spirit,” Middleton said in an equally dry tone, and the two men chuckled before he turned and left the shuttle hangar. Miss Serendipity had provided extensive data from the Lost Ark’s storage banks—after making Captain Middleton agree not to divulge any of the information to the public, or to competing institutions, without prior written consent provided by the University of Winlock—and Fei Long was mining that data in an attempt to discern whether or not the Raubachs took Doctor Schillinger to another planet out here on the Rim of Sector 24.
Middleton’s guess was that Commodore Raubach—if he was in fact the ultimate string-puller in the Raubach consortium operating in the Spineward Sectors—would have taken Doctor Schillinger directly to his secret base. It was clear that the Raubachs had already discovered a cache of bio-tech, and had successfully begun retrofitting their vessels with that technology.
He had to assume that the expedition of that process would be at the top of Commodore James Raubach III’s priority list…because if there was something even more important on the man’s plate, Middleton had very little hope of being able to disrupt the Rim Fleet’s operations so far away from support from the MSP.
Chapter IX: Taking a Page from the Little Admiral’s Book
“If Mr. Fei is convinced, that’s good enough for me¸” Middleton said after hearing Mr. Fei and Miss Serendipity’s longwinded explanation for why they believed it was highly improbable that Doctor Schillinger had been taken anywhere but the Raubach’s main base.
“Me too,” Gnuko said with only a trace of annoyance after having sat through the duo’s jargon-filled presentation.
“Then prepare to spin up the jump drives,” Middleton said, standing from the table. He was joined by the rest of his senior officers, and he nodded curtly before dismissing them. Mr. Fei was one of the last people to leave, along with Miss Serendipity—apparently her demeanor and verbosity were far from unwelcome to the young polymath. “A moment, Mr. Fei? You too, Miss Serendipity.”
The two stopped, and Lu Bu shot Fei Long a brief, yet intense, look before stepping out of the conference room and leaving the three of them alone.
“What we’re about to discuss must remain between us,” Middleton said, giving each of them a weighty look. “Is that understood?”
“Of course, Captain,” Fei Long said with his customary bow, while Miss Serendipity seemed fit to burst with excitement—a state of being which appeared to be more or less eternal for the young woman.
“First,” Middleton began, turning to Fei Long, “have you been able to ascertain why the droids seemed so intent on destroying the subterranean transmitter?”
“I believe so, Captain,” Fei Long replied with a nod, producing a data slate from beneath his odd, ancient-style robes which were his custom to wear when not stationed on bridge duty—and sometimes he wore them even then, which was a small enough breach of protocol that Middleton generally let it slide. “I have discovered several elements within the transmission’s frequency and contents which appear to be, for lack of a better term, hallucinogenic for artificial intelligences with architecture similar to the droids we have thus far encountered. Without engaging in overmuch conjecture,” the young man said confidently, “I believe the evidence we have encountered in this system is consistent with the presence of a virulent disease—or at least the artificially-crafted intelligence equivalent of one—and the Harmony droids were attempting to cleanse the area of this disease before succumbing to its effects.”
Middleton felt a surge of elation at hearing his expert’s initial opinion appeared to have been confirmed, and he nodded in satisfaction when Fei Long finished his report. “Then I have a plan,” Middleton said, turning to Miss Serendipity, “and that plan would greatly benefit from your consent and, if possible, your assistance, Miss Serendipity.”
Her expression turned briefly to one of puzzlement before she nodded with overt enthusiasm, “What can I do to help?”
Middleton gestured out the viewing window situation in the conference room’s external bulkhead, through which the Lost Ark could be seen with the Deathbacker still attached via docking collar to the survey vessel’s primary airlock. “I need the Lost Ark,” he said, driving straight to the heart of the matter, “and it’s extremely unlikely that we will recover it after employing it in the manner which I intend. I understand that you take the responsibility of being the sole surviving member of the archeology team quite seriously,” Middleton said when her eyes went wide and she appeared ready to object. “But let me assure you that I have every reason to believe that the Lost Ark may be the key to saving Doctor Schillinger.”
Trixie’s eyes narrowed in silent calculation, “How could one long-range survey vessel—which is little more than a light freighter stuffed to the gills with fuel and survival gear—play a meaningful role in rescuing Doctor Schillinger?”
Middleton was pleased that she made no attempt to bring up the University’s investment in the vessel and the gear stowed aboard it—well, what little remained of said gear—so he nodded approvingly.
Ever since the Battle of Tracto, Middleton had been silently fuming that he had missed the opportunity to take part in one of the most innovative battle plans in the history of the Spineward Sectors. But now he had a chance, however small, at actually improving on the Little Admiral’s brilliant technique and, for the first time since settling on his course of action, Middleton actually put
his crew’s chance of success at roughly fifty-fifty if his plan worked. He had laid awake in his bed thinking about how he could give his people a real chance, and now he was confident he could do so. It was the best he could do for them—and it would have to be enough.
“The Pride is just one run-down warship, but where we’re going there’s likely an entire fleet waiting for us…” he explained, feeling his fist clench tightly enough that his nails threatened to break the skin of his palm. “And I never pick a fight I can’t win.”
Nearly an hour later, the trio left the room in agreement on how to proceed—and, most importantly, Middleton was confident the pair could be trusted to keep their plan a secret.
“That’s bold,” Gnuko said after being called in for a private conference with Middleton shortly after he had concluded his meeting with Fei Long and Miss Serendipity.
Middleton knew he needed to get the operation’s prep underway as quickly, and quietly, as possible so he had gone directly to the Lancer contingent’s commanding officer so they could put their heads together and determine the ideal team for this operation.
“You no doubt understand the risks, but let me verbalize them for my own benefit, sir,” the Lancer Sergeant mused, stroking his short mustache thoughtfully. “If it succeeds, we kill three birds with one stone…but if it fails, we risk whatever cache of tech the Raubachs have gotten their hands on falling into the hands of a potentially even deadlier enemy—one that clearly knows how to assimilate foreign technology.”
“Correct,” Middleton agreed, allowing his Lancer Sergeant to work through the situation at his own pace. He needed Gnuko’s absolute support if this operation was to have even a chance of success—and he also knew he would need to surrender, at least temporarily, what may actually be his most valuable strategic asset.
“But the cost to the ship,” Gnuko continued, clearly torn between outright condemnation of the plan and actually continuing to discuss it, “would be as negligible as we could hope for, given the swing in deployable assets we’re talking about.”
“The ship would be down by only a handful of crew,” Middleton agreed, “though I’ll admit that several of the crewmembers in question are more valuable than the average serviceman or woman.”
“That would seem to be a fairly epic understatement, sir,” Gnuko said dryly, and Middleton could find no reasonable argument with the Sergeant’s assertion. “But still…” he trailed off, nodding slowly in his chair.
“There is a very real possibility that the team will be able to provide covert support after their primary objective is completed,” Middleton said into the growing silence. “I understand it’s a gamble, but we’re going to have to catch more than one or two breaks in order to come out on top of this thing, wouldn’t you agree?”
Gnuko met his gaze for several seconds, during which Middleton genuinely thought is Lancer Sergeant would refuse to sign off on the mission. “I do, Captain,” he said, to Middleton’s mild surprise. “This is as good of a plan as I can see us coming up with, and if it’s going to work we need to put it into effect ASAP. Give me a few hours to go over the roster and I’ll make my final recommendations?”
“Granted,” Middleton said, allowing himself to sigh in somewhat muted relief before his Lancer commander stood from his chair. “One name I can’t afford to have on that list is yours, Russell,” Middleton said as the burly man turned to leave the room, knowing the other man was unlikely to receive the sentiment well.
Sergeant Gnuko predictably paused mid-step and turned to face Middleton. “And if I deem no member of my contingent is capable of carrying it out?”
“Then the mission is scrapped,” Middleton said calmly before his visage hardened. “Your Defense Team hasn’t been tested yet, but neither one of us has any doubt that is going to change,” he said, threading his voice with iron. “We see eye to eye on that, don’t we?”
Gnuko relaxed fractionally and nodded, “We do, sir.”
“Good,” Middleton said, holding back a second sigh of relief, “I can’t do this without you, Sergeant. We’re going to need a stiff line if we want any hope of winning this thing, and they’re going to be sending the house.”
“I’ve got seventeen career professional playoff games under my belt, Captain,” Gnuko snorted, “and I have never been beaten by my assignment. You can count on me and mine, sir.”
“I know I can, Sergeant,” Middleton nodded, and Sergeant Gnuko returned the gesture before leaving the ready room.
The Pride’s commanding officer leaned back in his chair and considered the long-term complications his plan would generate, and he opened up the ship’s roster so he could get a head start on mitigating those complications.
“You want to see me, Captain?” Lu Bu asked after entering the room and saluting. It was only her fifth time in the Captain’s ready room, and she was briefly filled with a nostalgic sense as she remembered her first encounter with the man who was now her commanding officer.
“Have a seat, Corporal,” Middleton said, gesturing to one of the two seats opposite his own. Sergeant Gnuko occupied the other seat, and Lu Bu sat down with far more anxiety coursing through her body than she had expected when receiving the summons via her com-link. Captain Middleton leaned forward with his forearms placed against the edge of his desk and he said, “I haven’t properly thanked you for your service to this ship, Lu. Your…well, there’s no need to mince words,” he said, snorting softly, “your heroics during the back-to-back ‘suicide missions,’ as they’re now referred to, culminating in the destruction of two enemy warships and the capture of an enemy commander were nothing short of legendary as far as I’m concerned.”
His words made her squeamish, and she felt herself go red from the collar up to her scalp with embarrassment. “This one does her duty, sir,” she said awkwardly.
“No, Lu,” Sergeant Gnuko said in an unyielding tone, “your duty ended after you got on that shuttle. What you did afterward…it was special.”
Captain Middleton nodded his agreement, “Normally in such a situation, you would be put up for commendation and Fleet Command would review the petition for several months before making a determination. But we’re not exactly playing by the book out here,” he said, giving Sergeant Gnuko a brief, but pointed, look before once again fixing her with his steely eyes, “and, as such, it’s entirely possible that no one will ever hear about your accomplishments.”
Lu Bu had already known that it was very likely the ship, and her crew, would not return from their current mission. At first she had been upset by this fact, finding to her own surprise that heraldry for her actions was something she actually desired. But, seeking guidance, she had reviewed the books which Sergeant Walter Joneson had left her, along with the Romance of the Three Kingdoms—the book from which she had chosen her name—and decided that public recognition was a curse, or worse, it was addictive.
“This one is ready to serve, Captain,” she said after realizing that she had been summoned to the office of the ship’s captain to discuss another dangerous mission—and as she realized it she felt an unexpected, but somehow comforting, thrill of anticipation laced with trepidation.
Middleton held her with his gaze for several seconds before nodding and sliding a data slate across his desk. “Mr. Fei has already made the necessary preparations to the Lost Ark, with Miss Serendipity’s help,” he explained as her eyes scanned the mission’s outline.
As she read, she felt excitement rise up within her, realizing it was a mission which was so bold, so brilliant, and so dangerous that she felt her fingers begin to tremble with excitement as she read the slate’s contents.
“Ed, the assault droid,” Middleton said awkwardly, likely sharing the rest of the crew’s reluctance to identify the apparently sentient machine as an equal, which made absolutely no sense to Lu Bu, “refuses to leave Miss Serendipity’s side, and Miss Serendipity refuses to leave the Lost Ark until it is absolutely necessary to do so, which means you’ll
have a total of three non-Lancer personnel accompanying you on this mission. We have copied much of the ship’s database to Mr. Fei’s backup storage banks here on the Pride; Miss Serendipity was adamant that we store the data safely as soon as it is possible to do so in order for the University of Winlock to recover the findings at their earliest possible convenience. That data transfer process is nearing completion, and we anticipate the mission will be ready to execute in twelve hours.”
Lu Bu nodded her understanding before perusing the outline one more time. To her, the most undesirable aspect of the mission was that she and her team would need to eat ration bars and drink recycled water for the entire duration which, if they were less-than-fortunate, could take several weeks. “This one has choice of team members?” she asked.
“You’ll have the two experts, the assault droid, yourself, and up to six team members of your choosing,” Gnuko said.
“You can select from any of the crew,” Captain Middleton said with a nod of acknowledgment to the Lancer Sergeant. “Obviously this particular mission will be more about stealth than firepower, but since you’ll be running the show it’s up to you how you want the team composed. The purpose of this meeting is to craft that team, and we’re going to stay here until we’re done.”
Lu Bu nodded slowly as she thought through the matter. She would need a pilot that was rated higher than she was, as well as an engineer who could help them overcome the various difficulties they were bound to encounter. The assault droid would, if it was up to specs, provide more firepower than any two non-power-armored Lancers could even hope to match, so that made her less concerned about having extra boots on deck.
Against The Middle Page 11
