The Middle Road (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride Book 7)

by Caleb Wachter

  The Cruisers and Battleships formed the backbone of the Fleet, with the gunships keeping tight formation around the heavies in order to benefit from their relatively large protective envelope.

  And the Prejudice, with her impressive engines and stealth capabilities, leapt out ahead of the formation in order to investigate the newcomers in an up-close-and-personal fashion. It would be several hours before Middleton’s fleet reached engagement range—or even comm. range—with the newcomers, and Middleton was determined to begin whatever interaction he had with them on his terms.

  “Their hyper footprints are not consistent with Imperial jump drives,” Hephaestion reported after analyzing the readouts.

  “Agreed,” Middleton mused, poring over the same numbers and arriving at the same conclusion. “Keep the active sensors sweeping the system; someone told these people we were here and, whoever that was, I don’t want them sticking a knife in our back.”

  “Active sensors, aye,” Hephaestion acknowledged.

  The Prejudice’s stealth suite, while just short of a full-on cloaking device, had been tested in the battle against Commodore Paganini’s fleet. To Middleton’s surprise—and great satisfaction—it had even fooled the sensors of the Imperial-built warships, some of which had been pressed into the Void Hunter Clans’ portion of the Alliance Fleet. When the Prejudice had utilized her weapons, or executed combat maneuvers in close proximity to the enemy ships, she had been detected by the Imperials’ active sensors. But Middleton’s high-powered warship had still managed to evade the majority of the fire sent her way by relying on those same stealth systems.

  So he felt comfortable sneaking out and taking a peek at these newcomers, but until he closed to a significantly shorter range he also knew that the Prejudice’s sensors were more powerful than anything else present in his fleet.

  “No concealed signatures detected, Captain,” Hephaestion reported after the first wave of active sensor sweeps came back empty.

  “Good,” Middleton nodded, “now let’s see who these newcomers are.”

  “The hull markings of eight ships are consistent with the Unbordered faction, Captain,” Kongming reported after reviewing Hephaestion’s recently-taken visual logs of the incoming fleet. “The other forty four bear markings which indicate they belong to various human factions known to the AG. These include three pirate clans, two independent colonies, and a mining corporation which apparently fled the Empire when its patron Great House was brought down amid some sort of tax scandal two decades ago.”

  “Total fleet breakdown,” Hephaestion reported, “nine Cutters, sixteen Corvettes, twelve Destroyers, six Cruisers, four bulk freighters, two mobile gas harvesters, two heavily-modified settler ships and what appears to be an Imperial Constructor.”

  “I am receiving a hail, Captain,” Kongming reported.

  “Put it on,” Middleton ordered, and the ovular screen to the left of the bridge’s main viewer was filled with the black-bearded visage of a man wearing an unfamiliar military uniform.

  “This is Commodore Andrew Cartwright,” the man declared, speaking with a measure of authority which Middleton knew from experience required a lifetime to cultivate, “Head of Security for the Secular Liberation League. We are here to investigate the attack made against the Unbordered’s colony in this system. Do not approach the hyper limit or we will be forced to detain you…with extreme prejudice,” he added grimly before the message ended.

  “Secular Liberation League?” Middleton repeated, looking in Kongming’s direction.

  “There is no such organization listed in either the Imperial database or in the Prichtac’s depositions,” Kongming shook his head.

  “Which means they’re new,” Middleton mused, “and that works to our advantage in more ways than one. Take down this message,” he instructed, and when Kongming signaled that he was ready to record, Middleton said, “This is Captain Tyrone Middleton, Supreme Military Commander of the reformed Alliance Gorgonus. We are here to initiate a dialogue with the Unbordered for the purpose of mutual defense against the Empire of Man. We, too, are investigating the nature of the attack against the colony in this system and would be grateful for the opportunity to share our findings, in person, with whatever principals wish to participate in such an exchange. I will order my fleet to heave to, as a gesture of good faith, while I will bring my flagship to a neutral point between our forces. Supreme Commander Middleton, out.” He nodded to Kongming, “Send that.”

  A moment later the young man acknowledged, “Message away, sir.”

  “Issue orders to the fleet to heave to and maintain Condition One,” Middleton instructed. “It looks like we out-gun them several times over, but I’d bet my eye teeth those bulk freighters are hiding a few surprises up their kilts.”

  “Fighter carriers,” Toto declared.

  “That’d be my guess,” Middleton agreed. “So even if we end up fighting this Secular Liberation League, the last thing we want to do is get into knife range with a potential swarm of fighters. Standing off at range while maintaining combat alert is the right move regardless of how things shake out.”

  Several minutes later his fleet acknowledged the order and complied, allowing Middleton to take the Prejudice into the neutral ground between the two fleets.

  “Commodore Cartwright,” Middleton greeted as his counterpart disembarked his shuttle and entered the Prejudice’s hangar. The SLL’s Security Chief peered around the hangar with muted interest as a pair of power-armored commandoes flanked him at the base of his shuttle’s gangway. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

  “I’m not one to mince words, Captain,” the stocky, black-bearded man said shortly. “Why are you in this star system?”

  “One of my prisoners informed me of an information cache on the colony,” Middleton explained. “We just finished retrieving that information before you arrived.”

  “What kind of information was it?” Cartwright demanded.

  “I couldn’t tell you at this point, Commodore,” Middleton gestured to the corridor, “but I think it would be better if we spoke in private.”

  “First you need to answer a few questions,” Cartwright held up a halting hand. “Such as: why do you refer to yourself as the ‘Supreme Military Commander of the reformed Alliance Gorgonus’?”

  “Because three principals of the AG installed me to that post shortly after reforming the organization,” Middleton replied measuredly.

  “Which principals?”

  “The Stalwart Commander, the leader of the Void Hunter Clans—who would be a conglomerate of feline uplifts and gene-crafts,” Middleton replied, knowing this next bit was dangerous to say in public but also knowing the benefits of gaining the Commodore’s trust would be immeasurably valuable to the cause, “and the Prichtac.”

  Cartwright’s brow lowered darkly, “The Prichtac are dead—my surveillance teams confirm their planet was obliterated by the Empire.”

  Middleton cocked his head, “Their world wasn’t actually destroyed by the Empire, Commodore.” He gestured to the rear of the hangar bay, where the Prichtac’s regeneration chamber sat dormant, “It was all something of a ruse the likes of which will undoubtedly strain belief. But, again, I think it would be best if we discussed these matters in private,” he added with a pointed look at the two commandoes flanking the Commodore.

  Cartwright followed Middleton’s gaze, first to the Prichtac chamber and then to the commandoes. “These are my sons, Captain Middleton,” he explained, a challenge evident in his tone as he locked eyes with the Prejudice’s commanding officer, “I trust my family with my life—and with my secrets.”

  Middleton took the other man’s meaning plainly enough, turning to gesture to Kratos, Kongming, and Garibaldi, “We’ve been through life and death together. I’m happy to have this meeting here if you are.”

  “Good,” Cartwright grunted. “Second question: where did you get those capital ships?”

  Middleton quirked a grin, “W
ell, those were from the Prichtac.”

  That seemed to take Cartwright by surprise—just as Middleton had hoped it would—but the Commodore resumed his stoic demeanor after only a brief pause, “I find that hard to believe.”

  “You’re not alone in that respect, Commodore,” Middleton assured him. “In fact, that same skepticism is at the heart of why we’re here.”

  Cartwright’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”

  “I’m happy to answer your questions, Commodore,” Middleton said flatly, “but I require reciprocity.”

  The Commodore folded his arms across his broad chest, “I’m not at liberty to discuss SLL business without authoriza—“

  “Then you should invite your principals to directly participate in the dialogue,” Middleton interrupted, “just as I suggested during my hail.”

  Cartwright’s stony veneer slowly began to crumble as a wry grin spread across his face. “You’re direct—I like that.”

  “I’d very much like to return the sentiment,” Middleton assured the other man, which caused Cartwright to chuckle.

  “I don’t know who you are, Middleton, but I’m going to be blunt: the League can use all the friends it can get,” Cartwright confided. “Just the same, you’re going to have a tough time convincing the Unbordered that your principals weren’t behind the attack on their colony.”

  “I appreciate the professional courtesy,” Middleton said gratefully, glancing down at Cartwright’s uniform. “You’re a corporate security officer?”

  “I am,” Cartwright agreed, gesturing to the commandoes flanking him, “and so are my sons. But before we get too chummy, answer one more question.”

  Middleton was happy to oblige in the interests of further cooperation, “Go ahead.”

  “Are you in league with the Empire?” Cartwright asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.

  Middleton snickered, and the rest of the Prejudice’s crew in earshot did likewise. “Cartwright,” he said with the utmost conviction and maximum possible humility, “I’ve bagged more Imps than you’ll ever cross swords with. We took down Commodore Paganini’s entire fleet in a single battle and, between you and me,” he flashed a few teeth behind a grim smile, “I’m just getting warmed up.”

  Predictably, the Commodore wore his incredulity plainly on his face. So Middleton passed him a data slate which contained a truncated version of the battle with Paganini, and after a silent minute of perusal Cartwright’s mouth fell open in muted surprise.

  “Now,” Middleton said, “you take that to your principals and see if you can arrange a meeting. And tell them that the AG’s Supreme Commander is convinced the Imperials were behind the attack on the colony below—just like they’ve been behind most of the recent chaos in these Sectors.”

  Cartwright nodded slowly, “I’ll see what I can do. Thank you Captain,” Cartwright waved the slate emphatically, “this will be useful in convincing them—and me.”

  “I expected it would,” Middleton replied with a professional nod, and with that the Security Head for the Secular Liberation League boarded his shuttle and prepared to depart the Prejudice’s hangar.

  “Even if we accept that this is an accurate representation of this supposed ‘battle’,” the Unbordered’s delegate, President Rosalind Chow argued—for at least the sixth time—while pointing to the data slate which Middleton had given to Cartwright, “it is far from a ringing endorsement of your efforts to date, Captain Middleton.”

  “I’m not here to convince you of something you refuse to accept,” Middleton said steadily as the hours of ceaseless bickering finally began to wear through his patience. “I’m here to offer a chance—the only chance, as far as I can see—for your people to join the Alliance Gorgonus in the hope that, together, we can push back against this Imperial incursion into the Gorgon Sectors.”

  President Chow sneered, “How do we know you’re not Imperial agents? You still have not provided a satisfactory answer to that question. Maybe this ‘record’ of yours is a forgery,” she flipped the data slate down the table, “and you’re working with Paganini to finish us off in a single, decisive battle?”

  The two colonial Governors nodded in agreement, but Commodore Cartwright interjected, “My people have examined the record. It is consistent with our surveillance data of the Imperial-built ships which are among the AG Fleet. Massive battle damage was inflicted on two of them, and that damage is perfectly consistent with what this battle record implies.”

  “Which only serves to demonstrate the quality of this deception,” Chow countered.

  “With respect,” the corporate Chairman, a wizened woman named Lewis, leaned forward from her seat opposite Middleton’s on the narrow ends of the table, “perhaps the Unbordered delegate would benefit from a short recess?”

  The colonial governors—including President Chow—turned with evident surprise at hearing the venerable Chairman’s suggestion. But Chow’s surprise quickly turned to anger as she thrust a finger toward the Chairman, “You have no authority here, Lewis. My people elected me to lead them—I will not lead them into another trap as my predecessor did!”

  “What ‘trap’ are you referring to?” Middleton asked, hoping to instill some measure of civility in the proceedings while very much doubting his ability to do so.

  Chow tore her furious gaze from Lewis and fixed it on Middleton while seething, “As if you don’t know.”

  “Prior to joining the SLL, the Unbordered,” Cartwright put in, “attempted to establish a discrete dialogue with Magmid Two after discovering it was tunneling beneath the colony. The talks unexpectedly broke down, and the two factions engaged in an all-out war which, ultimately, destroyed Magmid Two and saw the Unbordered retreat to their settler ship so they could flee the system.”

  “I’m sorry,” Middleton cocked his head, “is ‘Magmid Two’ the second ‘member’ of the silicon-based life form?”

  “Yes,” Lewis nodded, and once again surprise seemed to reign on the features of the assemblage at hearing her speak. “It would seem you did, in fact, receive your intelligence from the Prichtac if you refer to a Magmid as a ‘member’.”

  Middleton nodded, finally believing he had a reasonable understanding of the political landscape before him. It was clear that Chairman Lewis, with Commodore Cartwright at her side, wielded the most individual power among the SLL’s ‘government.’ But judging from Chow’s vehemence and utter refusal to back down, it was also clear that the Unbordered President believed she could sway enough support to her side—which support she apparently believed would come from the other colonial governors—to have an opposing impact on the general policy direction of the group.

  Middleton now thought he understood the situation, but that did not mean he was equipped to navigate it effectively.

  “I think that a recess is in order,” he said, standing from the table. “For obvious reasons, you’ll need to confine yourselves to the port corridor, the shuttle bay, this conference room and the galley where you can get refreshments. My security team isn’t known for its hospitality,” he said with a brief but pointed look at President Chow, “so in the interests of diplomacy I advise against antagonizing them similarly to how you appear to think you’re licensed to antagonize me.”

  Chow did nothing to hide her smoldering anger, but thankfully she left the conference room—followed closely by the two colonial governors—and after a few moments’ time only Chairman Lewis and Middleton remained seated at their respective ends of the table.

  “Would you like to get some refreshment from the galley, Chairman?” Middleton asked.

  Lewis laughed, “At my age, young man, ‘refreshment’ is a long-departed friend. The best the elderly can hope for is to retain control over basic bodily functions to which most toddlers proudly claim mastery.”

  Middleton couldn’t help but smile at her calling him a ‘young man,’ though he supposed that if he lived to be a hundred and nineteen like she had that he would feel similarly ab
out people in their forties.

  “No, Captain Middleton,” Chairman Lewis sighed, “now that the children have left the room, it seems the adults should take the occasion to clarify a few matters.”

  “I’m all ears, Madam Chairman.”

  “To begin with,” Lewis said easily, “each of the constituent members of the Secular Liberation League recognizes the enormous opportunity presented by your so-called ‘Alliance Gorgonus’—especially since it features such a robust organ as your Fleet.”

  “Are you flirting with me, Madam Chairman?” Middleton asked with a tight smile at hearing her chosen verbiage.

  “I do not flirt, young man,” she riposted with a grace and authority known only to women of her venerability and station. “At my age one detests preamble and foreplay. I am willing to cast my support in your favor, but only on the condition that you review and accept the Mutual Defense Pact to which the SLL member states have agreed.”

  “The Alliance Gorgonus is headed by the Prichtac, Madam Chairman,” Middleton said cautiously. “As its Supreme Military Commander, my first allegiance is to defend the AG.”

  “I understand,” Lewis nodded patiently, “but you must understand that the Alliance Gorgonus—an organization with which my corporation has not previously engaged, but with which all of my fellow SLL members have at one point or another—can only be legally reconstituted if seven of its founding members reconvene. You have three such members in the Prichtac, the Stalwart, and the newly-named ‘Void Hunter Clans,’ but only two of the six SLL members are charter AG signatories: the Unbordered, and the Fortunate Suns. That leaves two more charter members required in order to revive the Alliance Gorgonus—and I happen to know where you can find them.”

  “How does that relate to the SLL’s Mutual Defense Pact?” Middleton asked after failing to see the connection.