No Middle Ground (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride) (21 page)

Jo sliced a cold, piercing look over at him before glancing down at the data slate. Shaking her head, she took the slate and stuffed it into a pocket. “I’m beyond disappointed in you, Tim,” she said coldly, “you’re nothing like the man I once knew.”

With that, she made her way out of the ready room and left him alone. He knew that she had spoken truly, even if her reasons for doing so might have been…misguided. But any change in attitude or life view—often for the bitter, the resentful, or worst of all, the apathetic—was the non-negotiable price of experience.

And he paid it gladly.

Chapter XVIII: Warmer…

The
Pride of Prometheus
completed two more jumps over the course of the following week, encountering nothing out of the ordinary—including no sign of the enemy vessel they were pursuing. Seconds after making their third jump, the main viewer’s tactical readout lit up like petroleum under a plasma torch.

“Captain, I’m reading four vessels in orbit of the fourth planet,” the Sensors operator reported promptly.

“Are they squawking IDs?” Jersey demanded, taking a step toward the man at Sensors. Middleton had to admire the way the newly made Lieutenant Commander was filling the role of XO—at least, so far.

“Affirmative, Commander,” the man replied. “I’m reading…System Defense Force signatures on one of the four vessels but nothing on the other three.”

“System Defense?” Middleton repeated. “Where are they based out of?”

“It looks like…the Elysium system, Captain,” the operator replied.

Captain Middleton saw Jersey scowl at the operator’s delayed report, but Middleton paid it no mind. He looked down at his chair’s readout as his XO leaned down next to the operator and said, “Captain Middleton requires all available information during your report, crewman—ship types, current status, handshake protocols,” he listed off in a voice only a few nearby people could hear.

Middleton actually stopped in the middle of calling up the information which Jersey had just subtly—at least, for him—suggested the operator include in his report.

The operator gave the XO a blank look for a moment before bobbing his head up and down as he continued, “Reading one corvette squawking SDF ID’s, Captain; handshake protocols accepted and their codes appear to be valid. Damage readings…” he hesitated as he flipped through a few screens, “it appears the corvette is heavily damaged with its power core reading near-critical. The other three signals are two merchantmen, which appear undamaged…”

“And the fourth vessel?” Middleton pressed.

After a pregnant pause, Ensign Sarkozi chimed in from Tactical, “Imaging scans suggest it was a settler ship, Captain.”

“Confirmed,” Sensors agreed belatedly, “its hull has suffered catastrophic damage, its power plants are cold and even its life support appears to be off-line. At its current rate of orbital decay, it will burn up in the planet’s atmosphere in forty two hours—”

“Captain,” the Comm. stander interrupted, “I’m getting an audio distress signal from the corvette on a secure channel.”

“Put it through,” Middleton ordered.

The speakers erupted into unbearably loud static for several seconds before the Comm. stander adjusted the gains. “—tain Manning of the Elysium SDF Corvette
Elysium’s Wings
. We’ve been overrun by pirates, our power plant is off-line and there are still survivors on that settler ship. We are requesting immediate assistance—“ the signal cut out unexpectedly.

“Get it back, crewman,” Middleton snapped as he flipped through his chair’s com-links to open a channel to Ensign Jardine down in the cargo bay. When he had him on the line, he ordered, “Report to the bridge on the double, Jardine.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied before severing the link.

The signal clarified on the speakers, “—n you assist us?”

“This is Captain Tim Middleton of the MSP Cruiser
Pride of Prometheus
; we have received your distress signal and are moving to assist. What is your tactical situation?”

“Only ten of my crewmen are still alive,” Captain Manning replied quickly. “We’ve barricaded ourselves into the sensitive areas of the ship, but it’s only a matter of time—“ he cut himself short as the sound of blaster fire filled the speakers. “There are still two thousand settlers aboard that vessel that need evac,” the man continued, “the merchants had been helping us ferry passengers to the planet below for several days but less than an hour ago, both of them were taken by pirates and they launched a surprise attack. Both vessels are now hostile—repeat: both merchantmen are hostile.”

“I read you, Captain,” Middleton replied, “both merchant conversions are hostile. Our arrival will take at least two hours,” he said with a quick mental calculation, “can you hold out that long?”

“I doubt it,” Manning replied, “we’re under too much pressure and my Marines mutinied not long after we were fired on. I tried to overload the reactor but—“ he was interrupted by the sounds of shouting and repeated blaster fire.

Middleton muted his transmission line temporarily to issue instructions for a maximum burn toward the planet, but he saw that Jersey had already done so.

“We’re droppin’ like flies here, Captain,” said the commanding officer of the
Elysium’s Wings
. “I’ve set charges around the core and am going to detonate—“

“That’s not necessary, Captain,” Middleton cut him off. “We’re better off if you surrender; those merchants can’t outrun us and your ship’s not going anywhere in its current state. If we can’t retake your vessel when we arrive, I’ll scuttle it myself,” he promised.

“I have your word on that, Captain?” Manning asked after a brief delay.

“You have my word,” Middleton replied with feeling.

There was a momentary silence, followed by the other man’s voice shouting the order to stand down and surrender to his men. When he was finished, he said, “I’m scrambling this channel and securing the comm. transmitter. Either re-take this ship or blow it to Hades, Captain Middleton, but consider my people and I expendable—am I clear?”

“As a Royal Proclamation,” Middleton agreed. With that, the line went dead and he went about reviewing the ship’s database on anything and everything to do with the
Elysium’s Wings
and its commanding officer.

After just a few minutes of review, he was satisfied that the vessel was, indeed, assigned to the Elysium SDF force and that Captain Manning was its commander. Of course, it was possible that the man he had spoken with was an imposter, but that was wholly irrelevant to the matter at hand.

The priority was now clearly on securing the warship, disabling and/or destroying the merchant conversions, and rescuing the remaining settlers aboard the wreckage of the settler ship—in whatever order of priority events would allow. Captain Manning had been correct in asserting that rescue of his crew was nowhere near a top priority.

“I’ve re-plotted our course, Captain,” Commander Jersey reported, “ETA is now one hour forty six minutes.”

“Good work, Commander,” Middleton acknowledged as Ensign Jardine made his way onto the bridge to assume the Comm. station. “Ensign,” he continued, turning to the First Shift Comm. Officer, “I have a plan but I need to know if you can make the necessary preparations in time or not.”

“Of course, Captain,” Jardine replied promptly.

Middleton pulled up a file he had been working on in his spare time, which detailed a particularly clever use of sensor ghosts Rear Admiral Arnold Janeski had utilized to essentially ‘pin’ a group of vessels within the
Lucky Clover
’s relatively limited zone of control. The ghosts had tricked the enemy into thinking that the safest route was through the
Clover
—which happened to be the only real ship in the sector under Janeski’s command. Middleton despised Janeski for abandoning the Spine the way he did, but he had no illusions about the man’s keen tactical mind and feel for asset deployment.

The
Lucky Clover
had similar tactical disadvantages to the
Pride of Prometheus
, in that neither ship was terribly fast or maneuverable. Smaller, quicker ships could escape with adequate warning if they coordinated their withdrawal without coming under fire from the long guns of the larger, slower warships.

He forwarded the file to Jardine, who nodded slowly as he examined its contents and summary before shaking his head. “I could do this, Captain,” Jardine said confidently. “But not in an hour and forty two minutes; this is as much a challenge of designing the software as it is of deploying hardware,” he added with a significant glance to the countdown clock with Commander Jersey had apparently put up on the main viewer.

“Can you handle the hardware setup in an hour?” Middleton demanded.

Jardine nodded. “Absolutely, Captain...but who will handle the programming?”

“You worry about the hardware,” Middleton snapped. “Pull whoever you need; I’ll deal with the software.”

The Ensign looked confused before realization dawned and he nodded as he made his way to the lift. “I’ll need Chief Garibaldi and a few of his electronic technicians in the cargo bay, sir.”

The Captain flipped his chair’s com-link to Garibaldi’s channel. “Chief Garibaldi, Ensign Jardine needs you and your best electronics men in the cargo bay on the double.”

“On our way, Captain,” Garibaldi replied.

Middleton stood to join Jardine in the lift. “Commander, you have the conn,” he said, waiting for the other man’s acknowledgment before making his way to the brig.

Chapter XIX : Sleeping Dragon, the Third Visit

“Captain,” Fei Long said, clasping his hands and bowing in his people’s usual fashion, “I am grateful you have come. Aside from my latest visit for yet another series of scans in sickbay, I have been deprived of human interaction.”

“This isn’t a social call, Mr. Fei,” Middleton said shortly as he handed him the data slate. “Can you write the code for this, assuming the hardware is in place—and can you do it in less than an hour?”

Fei Long’s eyes snapped hungrily over the data slate, and for the first time since meeting the young boy, Captain Tim Middleton saw his true character. The boy’s eyes flicked up and down almost too fast to believe as he went from page, to page, to page of the Captain’s detailed report, attached mission logs and technical schematics, his eyes taking on an inner light as he did so. It seemed an overly dramatic thought, but Middleton couldn’t help but compare Fei Long’s demeanor to that of a dehydrated man’s first gulp of life-giving water in days.

In what would have taken Middleton no less than ten minutes to review, Fei Long accomplished in just under a minute. “Of course, Captain,” Fei Long replied, handing the data slate back to him with a gracious nod of his head, “but one hour is too much for such a task, given the materials you have just provided.”

“I don’t need arrogance, Mr. Fei,” Middleton said impatiently, making certain not to let his expression betray his surprise at the boy’s confidence. “Two thousand people’s lives hang in the balance, and I need to know if you’re capable of this.”

“I
am
,” Fei Long said fiercely, his veneer of overt respect and deference momentarily cast off as he locked eyes with the captain unflinchingly. Just when Middleton was ready to consider abandoning the plan to avoid such an obviously uncontrollable variable as this young man appeared to be, Fei Long added, “I will require no more than fifteen minutes to encode these protocols using your primary computer; to do so via the secondary system will require twice as much time; to do so with three completely blank, linked data slates like the one in your hand will require roughly fifty minutes. However it is accomplished, the end result will be identical.”

His mind was made up in an instant, and Captain Middleton called over his shoulder, “Release this prisoner.”

The Master at Arms approached and activated the console beside the cell. “Will he require a guard?” the burly man asked.

Middleton nodded. “He will, but have whoever it is keep back and out of his way; he’s no longer a prisoner of the brig, but he hasn’t earned free roam of the ship just yet.”

“Yes, Captain,” the man acknowledged, “I’ll escort him myself.”

“Good,” Middleton said, handing the slate back to Fei Long. “You’d better get started.”

“A wise precaution,” Fei Long said with a look of mild disappointment before waving away the slate, “but I no longer require the slate. I believe I can access the secondary mainframe from the Master at Arms’ office?”

Middleton looked to the Master at Arms, who nodded his assent. The Captain nodded also and said, “Do it; grant him full access to the secondary computer, but none to the primaries.” His orders given, he exited the brig and headed back toward the bridge.

He had some hard decisions to make regarding how to proceed, and just how much jeopardy to place his people in. He activated his com-link and connected with Lancer Sergeant Joneson, who picked up immediately.

“I need every single unit of power armor on this ship ready to deploy in one hour, Sergeant,” Middleton said as he walked briskly toward the lift.

“I’ve got thirty nine Lancers that are rated for active duty in power armor, Captain,” Joneson replied promptly. “That leaves eleven empties that I’ll need to fill from other departments.”

“Take whoever you have to,” Middleton said as he entered the lift, mildly impressed at the readiness status of Joneson’s people, “you’ll be deploying on three separate targets, so you’ll need every pair of mag-boots you can line up.”

“We’ll be ready, Captain,” Joneson said in his deep, smooth voice.

“Good,” Middleton said as the doors to the lift closed behind him.

Fei Long cracked his knuckles in anticipation as he followed the Master at Arms into his office. It had been far too long since he had interfaced with a proper computer, and there was simply no way to describe the feeling of angst and longing which that activity’s prolonged absence had created.