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

by Caleb Wachter

  A look of recognition flashed across Captain Middleton’s face, and he nodded slowly before turning to the ship’s Tactical Officer. “Mr. Toto, is your remaining gunship capable of moving into position as Mr. Fei suggests?”

  The uplift sent a deadly look in Fei Long’s direction, and the young man was once again filled with dread at the sight of so many savage, naked, teeth. “It is, Captain,” he growled before returning his focus to Captain Middleton.

  “Make it so, Mr. Toto,” Middleton ordered, and Fei Long looked to the tactical overlay and, after performing some simple calculations, concluded that the gunship would be in range well before it would be needed.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Fei Long leaned back in his chair. He knew Lu Bu well enough that he fully expected her to engage in yet another suicide mission, and he needed to do everything he could to support her.

  Because he had come to realize something during this second battle with the Dämmerung, and it was not a realization that he was eager to share with the rest of the crew for obvious reasons:

  The only thing that mattered to him was Lu Bu.

  Chapter XXXI: A Ride fit for a Commodore

  “This not shuttle bay,” Lu Bu protested. “We must go deck four.”

  “We’re not going to the shuttle bay, Corporal,” Sergeant Gnuko chided with a knowing look. “We’re taking a cruise on the captain’s yacht.”

  Lu Bu had to process his words several times before she understood what he had said. “Of course,” she said lamely as they exited the emergency junction through which they had descended to deck five.

  “What is ‘captain’s yacht’?” Bernice asked warily after she had slid down the ladder to the deck upon which Lu Bu and Sergeant Gnuko stood.

  “These newer ships have them,” Gnuko explained as he waved Cassius down the ladder. “They’re faster than any shuttle, armed with weapons similar to a gunship, and the higher-end versions even have jump drives.” He snorted as Kratos made his way to the deck, representing the last member of the team who had survived—so far. “A poncy Imperial mama’s boy like Captain James Raubach IV wouldn’t be caught dead in anything but the best.”

  “But Captain Raubach not here,” Lu Bu argued as they exited the junction and made their way into the barren, lightless corridor which was only illuminated by their weapon-mounted floodlights, “how we activate ship?”

  Gnuko produced the Lieutenant’s command crystal and laughed. “I’m hoping this thing will do the trick; the Dämmerung is dead in space and a quarter of the escape pods have already jettisoned. Whatever security lockdowns are usually in place have probably been overridden by evacuation protocols.”

  “But guns still firing,” Lu Bu protested. “Not whole ship evacuated.”

  They entered another junction, which had a ladder similar to the one they had just used. “The gun crews have self-contained life support,” the Sergeant explained. “Trying to breach their blast doors would be next to impossible with small arms,” he waved his blaster rifle pointedly, “especially considering we’re all but empty in the ammo department. No, they won’t be coming out until their guns are empty and they’re down to their last gasps of breathable air. I’m guessing that anyone who could evacuate has already done so—the Lieutenant,” he waved the crystal in his hand, “didn’t seem too keen on going down with the ship. And now that I know their captain isn’t even aboard, I can understand his reluctance to make a heroic sacrifice.”

  It all made sense when put that way, and Lu Bu was tempted to blame her inability to comprehend the situation on the concussion she had suffered during the Main Engineering entry. But the truth was that her mind often failed her, and she silently cursed her progenitors’ attempts to create a perfect soldier. She had learned that she very likely was the perfect soldier, since she was not smart enough to understand every angle without some assistance.

  “Here we are,” Gnuko said after they had all descended the final ladder and come to a set of blast doors with a data crystal port built into the locking mechanism. “Let’s see if we’ve got the right key,” he said, and Lu Bu could feel the team’s collective breaths being held as he inserted the crystal into the port.

  At first nothing happened, but then there was a whirring sound and the locking mechanism methodically began to open. Concentric circles of interlocking metal plates spun until they achieved the proper orientation, and the door’s three panels slid open to reveal a narrow tunnel-like passage leading to what was clearly an external airlock portal.

  “So far, so good,” Sergeant Gnuko said as he led the team down the boarding tube. When he arrived at the airlock door, he once again inserted the crystal but this time Lu Bu heard the mechanism emit a clearly negative sound. “Blast,” Gnuko cursed before trying the crystal again. But, again, the door emitted a clearly disapproving sound and Lu Bu doubted the wisdom of her suggestion that they find another way off the dying warship.

  Then the spider-like drone at her feet scurried forward and, without waiting for Sergeant Gnuko to clear the way, it leapt onto the airlock door and moved into position over the locking mechanism. Gnuko backed away, and a moment later the airlock emitted an affirmative tone prior to sliding away in three sections.

  “Thank you,” Sergeant Gnuko said awkwardly to the drone, and the team entered the airlock one by one. The inner portal opened on Gnuko’s first attempt at using the crystal, and the team entered the most lavishly appointed space-faring vessel any of them could imagine.

  “Captain,” Hephaestion said as the Corvette’s rapid-fire, light weaponry landed strike after strike against the Pride’s hull, “there is a ship launching from the Dämmerung.”

  “Configuration?” Middleton asked, knowing that Gnuko would have taken the fastest possible ride off the crippled destroyer.

  “I…I cannot determine that, sir,” he replied in clear frustration.

  “XO,” Middleton prompted, and Sarkozi moved from her post at Damage Control to assist the Tracto-an Sensor operator.

  “It’s…uh,” she began before shaking her head in confusion. “I have no idea what it is, sir. But it’s larger than a shuttle, and it’s making good time toward the Corvette. It will rendezvous with the droid Corvette in eight minutes.”

  “Sergeant Gnuko’s team is aboard that vessel, Captain,” Fei Long reported as a small corner of the main viewer shifted to display one of his drone’s video feeds. It showed Sergeant Gnuko, Corporal Lu, and a trio of Tracto-ans—judging by their impressive physiques—as it panned around a chamber that looked more like a billionaire’s penthouse suite than a warship’s small craft.

  “Thank you, Mr. Fei,” Middleton said, impressed that the Lancers had managed to gain control of the small craft. He knew that if there was to be any hope of stopping the Corvette from fleeing the system, he would be forced to expose his unshielded engines to the Dämmerung’s still-firing long guns.

  But there truly was no choice in the matter; if Captain Raubach was indeed aboard the captured droid vessel and was allowed to escape, he would bring reinforcements and the Pride of Prometheus would be at the mercy of those who had already tried on several occasions to destroy her.

  “Helm,” he said, straightening in his chair, “plot an intercept course with the Corvette on the far side of the inner planet.”

  “Captain,” Sarkozi interjected in open alarm, “that will expose our—“

  “I’m well aware of the consequences, XO,” he cut in coolly. “If we don’t prevent that ship from fleeing then everything else we’ve done will be moot.”

  For a moment he actually thought that Sarkozi would countermand his order—and, in truth, he couldn’t have blamed her overmuch for doing so—but she nodded curtly and said, “You heard the Captain, Helm: intercept course.”

  “Chief Garibaldi,” Middleton said as he opened a direct channel to his old friend, “our engines are about to come under enemy fire. If you have any tricks up your sleeve, now would be the time to bring them out. We need
speed, and we need it now.”

  There was a brief pause during which Captain Middleton actually thought that his old friend, Mikey Garibaldi, had been among those killed when the portable generators. Alarmingly, he felt absolutely nothing as he contemplated the possibility, but he was torn from his silent ponderings by the sound of Mikey’s voice, “Well…I guess if they’re going to go out anyway, we can overload the remaining heat sinks and then perform an emergency ejection.”

  “How much speed can you give us, and for how long?” Middleton asked, having already concluded that this was likely the only option available to them. Without the primary heat sinks it would take several weeks of dedicated yard work to install new ones, and that was assuming they could fabricate or otherwise acquire said heat sinks.

  “I can give you a little over a hundred percent of our rated output with the remaining drives,” Garibaldi replied, “but it won’t last for longer than twenty minutes at the absolute maximum…I’d put the over under at seventeen minutes if you put a gun to my head.”

  Middleton ran a few course projections on his chair’s built-in console and nodded grimly. If the engines provided one hundred percent output for fifteen minutes it would give the Pride two shots on target at most. The good news was that if the engines held out for even half that period while taking fire from the Dämmerung, Captain Raubach’s crippled Heavy Destroyer would be unable to get off more than a pair of shots from her long guns, which were the only weapons still capable of striking the Pride.

  “Do it,” Middleton said, knowing full well the bad news: that after Garibaldi overloaded and ejected the heat sinks, the Pride would be very nearly dead in space with only attitude adjustment capability provided by the ship’s docking thrusters.

  “Give me thirty seconds,” Garibaldi said before severing the connection.

  Lu Bu applied combat heal to her burned face without using a mirror to give the damage a proper assessment. Thankfully, the tube of healing gel soothed the pain almost immediately and she was able to focus a bit more clearly as a result.

  Sergeant Gnuko sat at what appeared to be a fairly standard pilot’s chair built into the bow of the strange vessel. The interior appointments were ludicrously expensive-looking to Lu Bu’s untrained eye with gold, platinum, and other precious metal trimmings inlaid with what looked to be natural gemstones every color of the rainbow.

  There were also art objects ranging from stone carvings to utterly bizarre geometric shapes composed of intertwined wires, crystals, and even what looked like living wood. She knew very little of such things, but she was quite certain that the appointments inside the yacht would constitute a not-so-small fortune.

  She stood after applying the combat heal to her face and made her way to Sergeant Gnuko’s side, where she quickly saw a tiny tactical display. The Pride of Prometheus was pursuing the same vessel which the Lancers were prepared to dock with in just over five minutes.

  “This is it, Lu,” Gnuko said under his breath. “The Pride’s giving it one last burn; my B-minus grade in propulsion theory from ten years ago tells me they’re going to have to eject their heat sinks in another ten minutes or so.”

  Lu Bu saw the two ships approaching the rocky, inner, planet on opposite sides with the Corvette taking the solar ‘inside’ path and the Pride taking the outer path.

  Her basic understanding of the visual representation suggested to her that Captain Middleton would not be in firing range for very long after the maneuver was completed and his engines went dead.

  “We destroy engines,” she said grimly.

  “Not from the inside, we won’t,” Gnuko chided. “We have no idea of that ship’s layout; our best hope is to ram this ship into their stern and hope it does enough damage to keep them in the Pride’s range. Besides,” he added with a short look over his shoulder at the other three members of the Recon Team, “tough as we are, we’re banged up and ammo dry. Assuming Raubach started with a full complement aboard the Dämmerung, we’re looking at around a dozen Imperial Marines on that ship.”

  Lu Bu shook her head. “Corvette small; droid ships make radiation.”

  Sergeant Gnuko gave her a confused look, and her choler unexpectedly rose when she realized he was doubtful of her mental faculties in that moment.

  “Radiation kill humans,” she snapped, frustrated that he failed to see something as obvious as what she was trying to convey. “Humans need shielding.”

  The confused look persisted for several seconds and then his eyes lit up and he nodded in understanding. “Ok…so everyone not wearing power armor will be pinned down. That might work to our advantage…and they’ve probably had to install their own control interfaces…” he trailed off, clearly lost in thought before his eyes settled on the last of Fei Long’s remaining combat drones.

  “Why will they not destroy this ship?” Kratos asked, and only then did Lu Bu realize he was standing an arm’s length from her.

  Gnuko made a minor course correction and then tilted his head toward the ship’s lavishly appointed central compartment. “My guess is this ship represents Captain Raubach’s golden parachute; only Murphy knows what’s secreted away on board this thing. He wouldn’t risk destroying it,” he said confidently before adding with a snort, “and in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re practically performing valet service here.”

  Bernice came to the tiny pilot’s station, which could in no way be considered a cockpit, and said, “Cassius has wound to leg. He cannot run, and loses blood.”

  “Did you give him a shot of combat heal?” Sergeant Gnuko asked as the craft banked, presenting the orb of the system’s innermost planet for them to see.

  “It does not work,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Gnuko growled wordlessly. “Lu, are you rated for this piloting interface?” he asked, and Lu Bu shook her head.

  She had never even seen such an interface, which consisted of a series of completely unfamiliar crystalline protrusions which Sergeant Gnuko was twisting and pressing to adjust the craft’s course and speed.

  “Blast,” he seethed before apparently arriving at a decision. “All right, I’ve got a plan. It’s not pretty…but then, nothing we do ever is,” he added with a predatory grin which he flashed at Lu Bu, and she could not help but return the expression. “I think I can get out in front of the Corvette and slow it down, or maybe even force it into the Pride’s firing arc a little longer than Captain Raubach would like. But that means I have to man the controls,” he said heavily, and Lu Bu understood his meaning perfectly.

  “We need helmets,” Lu Bu said, gesturing to Kratos and herself as she unfastened her own, ruined, headgear. The massive, one-eyed Tracto-an did likewise, and Sergeant Gnuko handed Lu Bu his own helmet. He had removed it before sitting down at the craft’s controls, and Lu Bu seated it on her armor’s collar before engaging the seals and initiating a suit integrity test.

  Kratos returned with Cassius’ helmet in hand after her suit’s integrity had surprisingly shown no worse for the wear since the initial entry onto the Dämmerung. Kratos’ helmet also checked out, and Bernice appeared ready for battle as well.

  “You won’t have grav-sleds this time,” Gnuko warned, “so I’ll have to bring us alongside close enough to scrape the paint on this thing. These Imperial autopilot systems have good attitude-matching systems, so we should be able to get you transferred in one piece even without a proper docking link. Get your boots engaged on the hull and proceed….here,” he said, calling up the image of the Corvette’s hull. “That’s where they went in, judging from the hasty patch job on the access hatch. This thing has a pair of light cannons so I’ll try to punch a hole through right there before I use this ship to harry them. After that, it’s up to you three to get in and bring that ship down from the inside. With any luck, that shouldn’t be too hard for your boyfriend,” he added with a fiendish snort.

  Lu Bu would have rebuked him, but she felt her knees begin to buckle and was forced to lock every muscle in her legs
defiantly. She was going to lead this mission, and she was going to succeed; there would be time for dealing with wisecracks about her love life later.

  “Understood,” she said sharply, knowing there was a very good chance that none of them would survive their boarding maneuver. Just then a bright flash of light erupted before them, and all four of the Lancers turned to see the Corvette’s starboard shields flare under the fire of the Pride’s heavy laser array.

  “That’s as open as it’s going to get,” Gnuko said as he resumed operating the helm controls. “Get to the airlock; I can use Kratos’ helmet to coordinate the jump.”

  Lu Bu turned and saw that both Bernice and Kratos were holding boarding axes in their primary hands, with vibro-knives reverse-gripped in their off-hands. She checked her own vibro-knife as she slid it into its sheath on her hip.

  “Take it,” Cassius called, and when she turned she saw him proffering his blaster rifle. She went over to him, briefly checked his leg—which looked much worse than she had expected—and accepted the rifle with a nod of gratitude.

  The Tracto-an laid down on the overly padded piece of furniture—a piece which resembled some odd combination of bed, sofa, and reclining chair—and Lu Bu turned to the pair of Lancers who would accompany her on this particular mission. “To the airlock,” she ordered, and together they made ready for what she was confident would be the final stage of this particular operation.

  Chapter XXXII: Holding Out vs. Breaking Through

  “Number Two engine is offline,” the Damage Control warrant reported worriedly. “Chief Garibaldi is recommending we shut down all engines and eject our heat sinks now, Captain.”

  Middleton considered the Chief’s suggestion for several seconds before arriving at the same conclusion Garibaldi had arrived at. “Do it,” he ordered, knowing that the Pride would be capable of little more than attitude adjustment from that point on.