No Middle Ground

by Caleb Wachter

  “Not yet,” the doctor said more forcefully, this time pressing down on Lu Bu’s uninjured shoulder gently.

  Again, Lu Bu felt a flare of anger at this woman’s continued insistence at interrupted her training. Walter Joneson demanded much of his recruits, and there was no possibility that she would fail her Sergeant again; she required a complete rededication to her training if she was to defeat the large, surprisingly powerful men from the world of Tracto.

  But the thought of Walter Joneson’s last orders to her were enough to pin her in place. Shaking her head in frustration, Lu Bu looked up at the sickbay’s chronometer, which showed she had already been within for seven hours. “Twenty four hours,” she said, pointing to the clock after lying down on the bed, “then Lu Bu return to training.”

  “No,” the doctor said unyieldingly, “but if your tests come back to my satisfaction, I will allow you to leave sickbay—with the understanding that you refrain from strenuous physical activity, including training” she said pointedly, “until I have given you medical clearance to resume—”

  Lu Bu bolted upright, ready to argue—using less than cordial language.

  But the doctor continued in a level tone which brooked no argument, “Or, I can keep you here for an additional seventy two hours on a psychiatric hold,” she said, causing Lu Bu to shoot her a look of incredulity, “since, in my professional opinion, you are openly planning to cause yourself potentially permanent harm by disregarding my medical advice and aggravating your wounds.”

  Lu Bu veritably trembled with anger at the doctor’s suggestion that she was somehow a danger to herself, but after a moment she understood why the doctor had said what she had said, and she breathed a series of short, blasting breaths through her nostrils as she resumed her supine position on the bed.

  The doctor, apparently satisfied with Lu Bu’s obeisance, nodded and turned to leave the bedside. Before she had taken a step, Lu Bu said grudgingly, “You as skilled with words as with medicine, Doctor.”

  Doctor Middleton stopped and gave Lu Bu a faintly warm look. “I’m only trying to do what’s best for my patient,” she said pointedly.

  “You believe it is mistake,” Lu Bu continued, “you believe this one not fit to become Lancer like Walter Joneson.”

  “Bu—” Doctor Middleton began with a sigh, but Lu Bu continued over her.

  “This one knows how people think,” she said, fighting to suppress the cold, bitter feelings washing over her, “there is no need to deny.”

  “Bu,” the doctor said, turning to face Lu Bu squarely, “I think you could be anything you wanted to be. Why do you want to become like those men when your life could be so much more?”

  Lu Bu sat up slowly and locked eyes with the woman doctor, expecting to see the woman recoil slightly. Much to her surprise, Doctor Middleton held her ground with an odd measure of composure—especially for a doctor, and not a Lancer or fellow smashball player.

  “Doctor, when,” she paused, searching for the right words to convey her feelings, “you were young, did Doctor Middleton always wish to become doctor?”

  Doctor Middleton’s expression softened slightly. “Yes,” she nodded as she sat on the edge of the bed, “ever since I was young I’ve wanted to help people.”

  Lu Bu nodded and her eyes snapped back and forth as she tried to compose her next thoughts. “This was because of some event, yes?” she pressed eventually.

  The woman doctor nodded again as her eyes narrowed slightly.

  “It is same with this one,” Lu Bu said, hearing a plea in her voice she had not intended, “my…family is no more. This one last of her line, and when this one ceases to be…” she trailed off, feeling her eyes well with tears as she fought to keep her voice level. “This one cannot replace family; only wish is to find…team,” she continued as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please do not deny this one her wish.”

  The doctor placed a consoling hand on Lu Bu’s shoulder. “Bu,” she said gently, “I understand the need for belonging better than you might know…but you can find camaraderie in many places—“

  Lu Bu shook her head as she angrily wiped away her tears. “It is not same,” she said adamantly. “Only in battle can true bonds be forged,” she said, paraphrasing a line she had read once and immediately decided was the truest piece of wisdom ever expressed by a human mind. “Doctor battles death with her mind,” she continued as she shook her head, remembering her mother’s disappointment in her daughter. Those memories caused another wave of emotions to flood her, “This one’s mind not strong enough for that. This one’s talents can help…but only as a Lancer; it is all this one wishes.”

  Doctor Middleton’s expression changed in a way Lu Bu did not understand, but the older woman nodded. “All right,” she said, “I won’t stand in your way. But I would ask you for two things, neither of which you should feel obligated to oblige.”

  Lu Bu clasped her hands before herself respectfully. “Of course; if this one can, she will do as Doctor Middleton wishes.”

  “First,” the doctor said, “that you cease referring to yourself as ‘this one.’ You’ve already chosen a name for yourself, and it’s been several weeks since you adopted it. You are an individual, and you should always be respected as one,” she said as her gaze drifted briefly.

  “Of course,” Lu Bu said anxiously, “thi—“ she caught the word before it had finished. Lowering her eyes deferentially, she continued, “I will do…my best to comply. What is second?”

  “Second,” the doctor said as she stood from the edge of the bed and straightened her lab coat, “is I would ask that, your schedule permitting, you share a daily meal of your choosing with me in the crew’s galley, or mess hall, or whatever it’s called on this blasted ship.”

  Lu Bu was momentarily confused. “Doctor Middleton is officer,” she said slowly, “she should eat in officer’s mess.”

  Doctor Middleton snorted derisively. “I’m no officer,” she said with a note of defiance which further confused Lu Bu. “But even if I was, I would still eat with the regular crew.”

  Lu Bu did not understand, but she nodded anyway. “Thi—I,” she corrected again, feeling her face flush as she did so, “will be honored to share meals with Doctor Middleton.”

  “Good,” the doctor said with a curt nod as she glanced at the chronometer, “then we’ll run those tests in sixteen hours, forty two minutes. If you’re fit for light duty, I’ll release you with the understanding that even with your…robust metabolic processes, you’ll still need to abstain for at least a week before resuming full training,” she spat the word bitterly

  It was a more restrictive plan than Lu Bu had hoped for, but in light of the doctor’s unexpected generous offer to share her table with a lowly recruit like herself, she knew it would be in very poor form to argue further. “I will abide by the doctor’s instructions,” she said in resignation.

  Apparently satisfied, the doctor turned and made her way to a nearby bed, leaving Lu Bu to stare silently at the chronometer as the seconds ticked by one after another.

  Chapter XIII: Prejudice, Pride, and the Past

  “Sergeant Joneson,” Middleton greeted as the huge, surprisingly agile man made his way into the ready room, “have a seat.”

  “Captain,” Joneson acknowledged as he gave the chair a reproachful look before doing as ordered. When he had gently settled into the chair, he presented a data slate. “This contains my reports regarding the arrest of Fei Long, the subsequent search and seizure of his personal effects, and my official report for the incident involving my recruits earlier.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Middleton accepted the slate, skipping the first two reports and flipping to the last item, the contents of which he perused in silence for several minutes. When he had finished, he set the pad down on the desk and nodded absently. “I’m told Recruit Bu will make a full recovery, given a week or so of light duty,” he said.

  “It’s ‘Recruit Lu,’ Captain,” Sergean
t Joneson said pointedly. “And I’ve read the medical report as well. Doctor Middleton’s a fine physician; I have every confidence Recruit Lu will make a full recovery well within the allotted timeframe.”

  “Be that as it may,” Middleton allowed, “while I have no intention of stepping in over your head on this thing—”

  “That’s good to hear, Captain,” Joneson said, his face an unreadable mask of professionalism but his voice betraying his displeasure clearly enough for Middleton.

  The Captain nodded, more to himself than the Sergeant’s predictable reply. “Still, recruit Lu is a special case. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Joneson shifted slightly in his seat and held the Captain in his gaze for several seconds before replying, “As far as recruits go…yes, sir, I believe she is. Her physical abilities are greater than any person I’ve had the privilege of working with. All things considered, her heart seems to be in the right place as well.”

  “All I’m suggesting, Sergeant,” Middleton said in as diplomatic of a tone as possible, “is that recruit Lu be treated as any other member of your latest batch of hopefuls. I don’t see any of them listed as sustaining ‘training injuries’ at the hands of the ship’s Lancer Sergeant,” he said pointedly. Middleton knew he was treading on thin ice, but he had no choice. A military command ran on authority, and if the person at the top of the pyramid was perceived to be incapable of directing his subordinates, the entire system was in real danger of losing efficiency…or worse.

  Joneson locked eyes with the Captain, who gave not one inch in the test of wills. For a moment Middleton was genuinely convinced it would come to blows between them – an affair guaranteed to be a one-sided pounding with the Sergeant swinging the hammer.

  “Permission to speak candidly, Captain?” Joneson said through gritted teeth.

  “You don’t need to ask in private, Sergeant,” the Captain replied immediately. He was actually angered by the fact that Walter Joneson felt the need to court protocol, as he had always considered the man to be a friend.

  “I am giving recruit Lu the same treatment as every other member of my team,” Sergeant Joneson growled. “The fact that it’s down to me and those…Tracto-ans,” he spat derisively, “to give her that treatment makes not one lick of difference, sir. My personal preferences come second—or further back than that!—to the dictates of the mission; without able Lancers, this ship is in grave danger and its mission is in peril. It’s my job to train those Lancers, regardless,” he held the last word for several seconds before finishing, “of my personal prejudices.”

  The silence lingered as Middleton tried to find the right words – a task he had always found frustratingly difficult. Eventually he sighed. “Walt, I’m not going to beat around the bush. You had one of the most promising athletic careers I’ve ever heard about, but you threw it all away over a matter which is more than vaguely similar to this one. As the Captain of this ship, it’s my duty to look to the safety and readiness of the crew. Seeing as I’ve always thought of you as a friend, I wouldn’t want to see you throw it all away again over such an insignificant matter.”

  Joneson stiffened. “If you think I flushed my playing career because I got bitter about going up against a few genies,” he said coldly, “then you misunderstand me absolutely, Captain. And if you think I dislike those Tracto boys because someone tinkered with their DNA somewhere between Old Earth and here, then you need to spend a little time with them yourself.”

  “Cut to it, Sergeant,” Middleton snapped. “I’ve got plenty of other things to deal with today; I don’t have time to mince words.”

  Joneson stood from his chair—a pointed, if relatively minor, breach of protocol—and flexed his hands rhythmically. “Those Tracto-ans have never lost a meaningful battle,” Sergeant Joneson said less angrily than Middleton had expected, “and until a soldier faces certain defeat you can’t know what he—or she—is really made of. More importantly,” he added with a hard look, “you can’t teach a man who’s never been proven fallible. To my understanding, Recruit Lu has also never lost a meaningful battle.”

  Middleton actually found himself understanding the Sergeant’s behavior toward recruit Lu—and was more than a little disappointed in himself for not having seen it earlier.

  Apparently seeing realization dawn on his Captain’s face, Joneson shook his head bitterly as he continued, “Those Tracto boys are too big, too fast, and flat-out too tough for me to school; maybe in my prime I could have taught them a thing or two, but I’m well past that now. Lu, however,” he said, his voice having returned to its stony, professional timbre, “her I can teach. She’s the only recruit we picked up who’s got the spark, Captain, and I’d be doing her and the ship a disservice if I didn’t kindle it the best way I know how. Again,” he said in a pointed voice, “my own preferences—or prejudices—whatever they may be, come a distant second to the success of the mission.”

  Middleton nodded as he rose to his feet, actually feeling relieved in all aspects at the outcome of the meeting. “Sergeant, you are a professional through and through,” he said curtly. He fought against the grin that wanted to play out over his features as he added, “I knew there was a reason I chose you for the job.”

  Sergeant Joneson’s shoulders slumped briefly as he exhaled before returning to attention and snapping a salute. “Permission to return to my duties, Captain?”

  Middleton nodded, returning the other man’s salute. “Permission granted, Sergeant.”

  Joneson turned and made to leave the room before stopping and, without making eye contact, saying, “If my read on her is good, you’re probably going to hear about one more visit to sickbay for Recruit Lu before the week is out. One way or the other, that’ll be the end of it, Captain.”

  “I’ll be expecting your report, along with the doctor’s,” Middleton said pointedly.

  Joneson nodded. “Of course, sir,” he said as he turned to leave the ready room.

  “Oh, and Sergeant,” Middleton called just before Joneson had made the door, “that security breach regarding our prisoner in the brig?”

  Joneson stopped in his tracks and nodded, reaching his hand into his pocket as he made his way to the captain’s desk. He withdrew a tiny, round object smaller than most old-style coins Middleton had seen in antique collections. “This was the source of it, Captain,” the large man said, handing the object over.

  Middleton turned it over in his fingers and recognized it as a low-profile security camera from the ship’s armory locker. “A button cam?” he asked with a quizzically raised eyebrow.

  Joneson snorted before his features gradually morphed into something between a smirk and a lopsided grin. “We found it strategically located in the…women’s showers, sir,” the Sergeant said with a knowing look. “I’ve had the entire ship swept for more of them but seeing as this is the only missing unit from our supply, and our physical inspections came up blank, I believe the threat has been neutralized.”

  At first, Middleton was genuinely surprised and concerned that Fei Long had managed to break into the ship’s armory undetected. Then he shook his head at the audacity of the young man’s violation of his crew’s privacy. Although, if he was being honest with himself, he could remember doing worse when he was Fei Long’s age…but at least his offenses hadn’t been committed on an actively deployed warship.

  “It looks like our prisoner is just full of surprises,” Middleton mused dryly.

  “Surprises, sir?” Joneson asked with a cocked eyebrow of his own. “He needs to be punished for violating his crewmates’ trust but I can’t say it’s all that ‘surprising,’ given his age and obvious technical abilities.”

  “True enough,” Middleton allowed. “Thank you, Sergeant; that will be all.”

  “Captain,” Joneson acknowledged before turning and exiting the room.

  Middleton looked down at the button cam and allowed the grin he had been holding back to spread across his lips. “Some things never change,” he chuc
kled before placing the button cam on the desk and sitting back down in his chair.

  Having survived their latest crisis, Captain Middleton decided it was time to take a closer look at this ‘Fei Long’ character. Possessing limited information to peruse, he pulled up the young man’s medical records along with everything else which had been compiled on him, and began to read.

  Chapter XIV: Bread Crumbs

  “Comm., have you received a response from the colony?” Middleton asked as they neared high orbit over the lone habitable world in the system. The enemy vessel that had overwhelmed the Pride’s shields with just two volleys had not returned, and since it had been well over a day since their initial engagement, Middleton had decided it was time to investigate the system.

  “No response yet, Captain,” Jardine replied, having resumed his first shift post after securing the strange particle imaging device after downloading the image into a detached, high-security workstation. “I’m reading the standard handshake protocols from the main comm. relays, but there doesn’t appear to be anyone on the other end of the line.”

  “Either that, or they’re avoiding contact with us,” Sarkozi offered as she populated a corner of the main viewer with a series of rotating images – most of which showed smoldering craters where buildings should have been. “The damage appears to be consistent with a highly-targeted orbital bombardment, Captain,” she continued, “if there are survivors, they might be deliberately avoiding contact.”