“Smart man,” Lynch nodded approvingly. “And now, as a personal favor and deal sealer,” he leaned forward, “I want you to put me in a room with Raubach Jr.”
“I can’t do that,” Middleton shook his head. “He’s worth too much to me.”
“I just got one question to ask him,” Lynch said, his eyes burning with an intensity that Middleton knew only too well. It was a look that spoke of a deep-seated anger which the Pride’s captain had experienced himself ever since hearing Jo’s life-changing confession. “Besides, Junior ain’t the man I’ve got in my sights,” he added, “and besides, if I misbehave y’all can kill me.” He leaned forward in his chair and said, in a tone that was far from the supreme confidence he had exuded until that point, “I need this, Tim, and I don’t forget my friends…or my enemies.”
Middleton knew it was risky, but the arms dealer still held all the cards. For all he knew, the salvage ship was armed to the teeth and would prove more than a match for the Pride in its crippled state.
“I’ll need more than fifty Starfire missiles,” he said, deciding against beating around the bush any more than was absolutely necessary.
“That’s all I’ve got,” Lynch retorted, “so you’ll have to decide if you prefer one bird in hand, or two showing you their tail feathers.”
“Fine,” Middleton agreed after a few moments’ consideration. “But I will kill you if you harm him, or even if I think you’re passing some kind of coded message to him.”
Lynch’s eyes flared and his entire body stiffened and he drew several long, deep breaths before slowly relaxing into his chair. “I’m gonna forgive you for that because you don’t know my history with these people,” the arms dealer said tightly. “I wouldn’t help a Raubach even if doing so saved a hundred worlds from burning, let alone to save my own skin. Judgment’s comin’ for them, and I aim to be holding the sword when it falls on ‘em.”
Lynch stood from his chair and Middleton did likewise. “To the brig, then,” Middleton said, gesturing to the door, “but you’ll have to agree to stay aboard this ship until we’re ready to jump. Regardless of your protestations to the contrary, I have to safeguard my ship.
The arms dealer nodded shortly. “If you’ve really got him in there, this will be well worth a few more days in a metal box.”
Captain James Raubach IV had been removed from cryo-stasis by Dr. Middleton under Captain Middleton’s orders a few days earlier. Under Jo’s care, the Imperial noble had made a nearly full recovery and now found himself in one of the Pride’s two maximum security cells.
“Unbelievable,” Lynch snorted as he looked through the one-way transparent door at the captive Raubach. “I cornered this rat three times in the last few years and he gave me the slip each blasted time,” he said in confidence. “The first time he bludgeoned my squadron of cutters from long range after feigning critical damage to his engines and drawin’ them in close to a gas giant. The second time I actually got a handful of boys onto his hull, but the bastard convinced ‘em to switch sides at the last minute.” He leaned against the wall, propping himself on his forearm as his eyes stayed locked on the Raubach commander. “The third time…well, I had him dead to rights. His shields were down and we was splashin’ strikes against his hull left and right—them Soyuz-class ships ain’t all that durable once you get past the shields,” he added as his lip began to curl. “Then, as my crack team moved in to capture him, his shields popped back up to full in no more than three seconds…I’ve never even heard of anything like it. My boys never had a chance; they bounced off his shields at full speed before autocannons shredded what was left of the assault shuttle to bits.”
Middleton had experienced strikingly similar maneuvers during his battles with Raubach, but he decided to keep that fact to himself. “Ask him your questions but don’t abuse him in any way,” Middleton instructed, knowing that Sergeant Gnuko and Lancer Funar would happily put the man down if he disobeyed.
“I just got one question for him,” Lynch said, straightening himself and looking at Middleton pointedly.
The captain nodded affirmatively to Lancer Traian, who unlocked the door from the brig’s main console. The transparent door slid to the side, and Lynch stepped inside as Raubach looked up at him with only the barest hint of recognition. “You’re supposed to be dead,” Raubach deadpanned as he shifted his posture while sitting on the edge of his cot.
“What do you know?” Lynch quipped. “Still warm, the blood that courses through my veins.” The arms dealer, whose physique dwarfed even James Raubach’s—who was considerably larger than Middleton—stepped forward, causing Gnuko and Funar to flinch but Middleton held up a hand haltingly. He was curious to see what Lynch asked, but more importantly, he was curious to see how Raubach reacted. “That’s one of the things that separates us mammals from you snakes…our warm blood, that is,” Lynch added.
“Is this supposed to impress me?” Raubach asked dryly. “So you’re alive; I’m sure father will be interested to hear about it.”
“Oh, he will,” Lynch replied confidently. “But this ain’t about your father, Jimmy,” he said, straightening with visible discomfort—discomfort probably caused by being forced to restrain himself. “Where’s Alice Schillinger?”
Raubach flinched, but it came and went so quickly that Middleton was convinced most people would have missed it. Middleton was generally not that good at reading people’s body language, but he had somehow caught the almost imperceptible reaction on the part of his prisoner.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Raubach replied evenly—a bit too evenly, in Middleton’s opinion—and Lynch’s gaze lingered only for a second before he shook his head and turned to leave the cell. Captain Raubach kept his features schooled into an unreadable mask even after the door slid shut behind the arms dealer.
“That’s what I needed to know,” Lynch said. “Best put me behind bars now, boss,” he said, turning to Gnuko.
Sergeant Gnuko gave Middleton a short look, and the captain nodded before saying, “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me who Alice Schillinger is.”
“I ain’t connectin’ the dots for you, Tim,” Lynch replied without making eye contact. “If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll figure it out. But I will say that her mother was a friend, and I already told you that I never forget a friend.”
With that he moved toward the other maximum security cell and sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes staring intently at the wall before him.
“Close it,” Middleton ordered, and the door slid shut behind him. He turned to Gnuko and added, “I don’t trust any of these people. If anything seems off in the slightest, your people are ordered to neutralize any apparent threat. I’ll take full responsibility for whatever your Lancers take that to mean,” he said with a hard look.
“Yes sir,” Gnuko replied, clearly taking Middleton’s meaning.
With that, the Pride’s commanding officer returned to the bridge to oversee the transfer of their replacement gear.
Fei Long worked in his quarters, alongside Yide, as they attempted to disassemble one of the primary computer cores from the yacht. They had stripped all of the cogitative gear out of the luxurious craft prior to installing a much simpler system which carried no risk of carrying ‘sleeping’ programs which would jeopardize their mission.
Captain Middleton had then ordered Fei Long to examine the hardware for anything unusual, including star charts or other relevant information which they might be able to use.
Yide had assisted Fei Long in dismantling six computer cores—fully twice as many as a ship of its size had any business needing—but none of them had yielded anything of value. Their memory banks had been wiped clean by a contingency program which had probably been chronologically triggered, and thus far the equipment had all seemed to be little more than high-end technology which could be found on any Core World in the Spineward Sectors.
This particular computer core appeared identical to th
e others, so when Yide removed the final plate covering the internal workings Fei Long expected to find a similar scene to the six previous cores.
Instead, his eyebrows rose sharply as his eyes grew as round as saucers. “This is what they like to call a ‘smoking gun’, Yide,” he said to Yide as he leaned forward.
The uplift issued a low growl, but he too seemed fascinated at what they had just discovered inside the computer core.
Captain Middleton will need to be informed immediately, Fei Long thought as he reached for his scanning equipment, after I have written a comprehensive report, of course…I suppose Dr. Middleton could be of some assistance, as well.
Chapter XLV: Beast Mode
Two days later, the transfers had been completed. Once again Middleton was impressed at seeing that Lynch was, indeed, a man of his word. None of the equipment which had been transferred was in less than working condition; he had expected to receive nothing but rejects and gear that had already been passed over on more than one occasion.
But Garibaldi had assured him every single piece of gear they transferred from the salvage vessel was fully functional. Much of it would require service time prior to deployment, but an installation schedule had already been worked up and signed off on by the ship’s Chief Engineer, and it suggested the Pride could be up and running in less than three weeks.
“Mr. Lynch,” Middleton said as the arms dealer was escorted onto the bridge.
“We’re on a first-name basis, Tim,” Lynch said casually as he moved beside the captain’s chair. “I think I’ll be goin’ with Marshawn for now,” he added as he sliced a look over at Strider, who glanced up from his station briefly before ducking his head down and making a show of staying on task.
“The transfers are complete…Marshawn,” Middleton said, gesturing to the main viewer. The salvage vessel had already begun its trek to the hyper limit, and was now beyond the Pride’s weapon range. “Captain Lockette’s ship is standing by.”
Lynch gestured to the Comm. station, and Middleton nodded. The arms dealer made his way to the station and picked up the same headset he had previously used to contact the salvage vessel, which was named Lockette’s Rocket—a crude term for which the origin was utterly uninteresting to Middleton. This time he left the system set to broadcast on the standard hailing frequencies as he held the microphone in front of his lips, “Good work, Ricky. Let’s go A/V for this one; it might be our last call, after all.”
A moment later, Fei Long asked, “Should I put through the incoming visual stream request, Captain?”
Middleton nodded, and a moment later a man’s face appeared on the main viewer. “Ricky,” Lynch said, putting the headset down and tilting his head in acknowledgment, “I do appreciate you comin’ all this way to help me with this deal.”
“What are old friends for?” Captain Lockette asked dryly, and it was probably clear to everyone on the bridge that there was no great love between the two men.
“You said it,” Lynch said smoothly. “There’s just one thing I’m curious about, though…” he said as he stepped forward and leveled a piercing look at the screen, “how much did the twins give you to burn me?”
Lockette’s eyes narrowed before they flitted to the side—probably checking a readout of some kind—and his expression turned smug. “More than you ever offered,” he spat before straightening in his chair. “But I thought we could leave all that in the past. It is a new day, after all, and a man in your position isn’t likely to make many new friends. You should be thankful I’m willing to continue our business relationship at all.”
Lynch nodded approvingly, and his voice was uncharacteristically carefree as he replied, “True…true. We did some good bidness in the past, and my own fortunes do seem to have taken a downturn just now. But do you remember the first thing I told you when we started working together way back when?”
Lockette’s smug expression turned into a sneer. “Even you can’t reach me out here, Lynch,” he said confidently. “I’m heading on to greener pastures; I suggest you do the same.”
Lynch grinned, and Middleton felt himself more than slightly invested in observing the outcome of the unexpected confrontation. Just then Hephaestion turned abruptly and said, “Captain, I am detecting a vessel…no, it is a missile.”
“Ain’t no missile, son,” Lynch said before yawning and buffing his nails on his vest.
Lieutenant Sarkozi raced to the Sensors section and stood beside Hephaestion for several seconds before visibly relaxing, “It’s on course to impact with the Rocket, Captain. Its emissions profile suggest…” her voice went hollow as she trailed off.
By that point, Lynch was no longer looking at the viewer and had turned to fix Middleton with his steely gaze. “I told Ricky the same thing I’m tellin’ you now, Tim,” he said conversationally as the tactical icons representing the salvage vessel and the unidentified projectile grew nearer and nearer. “I never forget my friends…or my enemies. And I ain’t never been the one to turn on my friends—but I’ve always been the one doin’ the burnin’ when they turned on me.”
The tactical icon representing the streaking missile changed to indicate its true designation, and Middleton felt a surge of unbridled emotions rise to the fore of his mind. “A Liberator torpedo,” he breathed as the countdown to impact ticked slowly down until ten seconds remained.
“Don’t’ worry, Ricky…Monique and Unique will be along presently to keep you company,” Lynch said in a conciliatory tone as he turned to face the view screen. “I’ll see to that personally.”
The salvage captain’s eyes were wide as he severed the connection from his end. A few seconds later there was a brilliant flash on the view screen which coincided with the torpedo’s impact against the ship’s hull.
“Direct hit,” Sarkozi reported professionally. A few seconds later she added, “The Rocket is gone, Captain.”
“Not many ships can take a Liberator,” Lynch said casually, “especially not when they’re packin’ them ship-buster warheads.”
“I’m reading a vessel near the hyper limit, Captain,” Hephaestion reported. “Its profile suggests it is a Cutter.”
“That’d be the Mode,” Lynch explained, “my old ship. She’s been sittin’ out there for about a week makin’ sure we wasn’t interrupted.”
Middleton took the man’s dramatic display in stride, knowing that if he was speaking the truth he could have destroyed the Pride at any point in the last week.
“Mr. Fei,” Middleton said, turning to face Fei Long, “have you completed your examination of the yacht?”
Fei Long nodded, “I have, sir. I found no further data or materials we might use.”
Middleton nodded before standing and moving toward Lynch. “She’s all yours,” he said, knowing that he was making a deal with the proverbial devil. The second half of their agreed-upon payment, which was the rest of the valuable materials that had been aboard the yacht when Gnuko had brought it to the Pride, had been packaged and re-loaded onto the same vessel in preparation for the deal’s consummation. “I can’t say it’s been a pleasure doing business, but it has been productive.”
Lynch grinned, showing his grill of diamond-studded teeth. “Them Starfires is out there,” he tilted his head toward the viewer. “The Mode brought ‘em in a cargo pod, and the transponder frequency is this,” he turned and input a set of numbers to the Comm. station’s open terminal before making brief eye contact with Fei Long, “you’ll want to follow these instructions precisely, son, lest my anti-theft device goes off, feel me?”
Fei Long gave the instructions a quick perusal and nodded with his usual confidence. “That will not be difficult.”
“You a cocky one,” Lynch said approvingly after he had finished writing down the instructions. He turned to Middleton and gestured to the doors leading off the bridge, “Take a walk?”
Middleton nodded, knowing the other man was likely just as anxious to leave the Pride as its captain was to disembark him
.
The two left the bridge and made for the nearest lift, followed by Traian and Vali, and Middleton gave the two likely spies—who, if they were spies, were working for Admiral Montagne, and therefore not too great of a danger—a short look as he entered the lift with Lynch. The two men looked ready to enter the lift with them, but backed off at Middleton’s look. Then Captain Middleton surprised them both by beckoning for them to enter the lift.
“You run a tight ship,” Lynch said appreciatively. “I see now why such an old warhorse made it this far.”
“You’re referring to the ship, I assume,” Middleton said through briefly gritted teeth.
Lynch snickered. “Sure,” he shrugged. “By the way…about your prisoner; you ain’t gonna get nothin’ out of him, it’d be best for everybody if you trusted me on that. I once kept his older brother in a hole for three months and he never so much as squealed.”
“Sounds like you and the Raubachs have history,” Middleton said disinterestedly.
“We do,” Lynch agreed grimly as the lift stopped its descent and the doors slid open. Middleton and Lynch exited together, followed by the Lancers in power armor. “But I did manage to get my info, though,” he added as they made their way toward the shuttle bay.
“I suppose you’re going to share your method?” Middleton asked dryly.
Lynch nodded. “You’re smart, Tim, but you ain’t smarter than me. There’s things need doin’ in this world if you’re gonna get where you’re tryin’ to go, and the higher you go the less you like what those things is. Most people bail after they get their first bitter taste of reality,” he said as they came to a stop before the shuttle bay’s doors, “but I don’t think you will. I think you’ll do what needs doin’.”
Up The Middle (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride Book 2) Page 47