Up The Middle (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride Book 2)
Page 52
Silence hung between them until Sergeant Gnuko began to chuckle, and Captain Middleton joined him before too long. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, at least,” Middleton said when the mood was once again serious.
Gnuko stood and offered his hand, and Middleton returned the gesture. “I’ll see you in the hangar,” the Lancer Sergeant said with a curt nod.
“Of course,” Middleton agreed, and Gnuko left the ready room.
A few minutes later, Middleton decided it was time to deal with another prisoner who had been cooling his heels in a cell. So he checked on the bridge crew’s status before making his way to the brig.
“Captain,” Kratos acknowledged, standing to his full, imposing height as he broke a string of pushups which had reached three hundred—Middleton had watched from outside the cell as the man had begun the impressive feat.
He was over seven feet tall if he was a foot, and Middleton didn’t even want to guess at how much the man weighed. Looking at his face was like looking at a history of warfare, with the most prominent feature being the lack of one eye.
“I have to admit, Kratos,” Middleton began, leaning up against the doorjamb as he looked the man up and down pointedly, “I have no idea what to make of you.”
The massive man shrugged, “I am as you see.”
“Only a fool would believe that,” Middleton said coolly. “Do you think I’m a fool, Kratos?”
Kratos’ eye narrowed and his body tensed, but the moment passed and he shook his head, “No, I do not.”
“Then start talking,” Middleton said in a tone that brooked no dispute.
The one-eyed Tracto-an seemed to consider the order for several seconds before nodding. “You, of all the people I have met among the stars, may actually understand,” he said before slowly lowering himself onto the edge of his cot. “Where to begin…” he said slowly. “The people of Tracto believe in the divine will of Men. It is the all-encompassing, all-consuming, and all-important aspect of who they are. They rely on the will of Men for social guidance, spiritual support, and even for battle strategy.”
“I’m aware of your culture,” Middleton said shortly, and Kratos shot him a brief look of molten fury before visibly calming himself.
“Not my culture,” he said through gritted teeth. “I am nothing like them; they are blind fools who cling to dogmas they do not understand because they are too short-sighted to look beyond them. I,” he rammed his thumb into his chest, “see further with one eye than that entire world could ever hope to see with a million, and for that they call me ‘heretic’.”
“I saw that term on the incident report,” Middleton lied, having actually heard the Tracto-ans call Kratos a heretic while he had observed the affair in the shuttle bay. “What does it mean?”
“Even they do not know the answer to that,” Kratos snorted. “But I suppose if by abandoning their ways and customs to think freely, one can be called a heretic, then I am without question such a heretic.”
“What was Blue Fang Pass?” Middleton asked, having heard that particular phrase used as well.
Kratos shook his head, “A fool’s dream, nothing more. It was passed on to me by my father, and his father before him. It was to be a place where those who thought as I did could gather,” he explained, his visage hardening as he did. “But all of it was undone by one who could have made it so much more…and it was my fault.” He stood from his cot and turned to face Middleton, “My people forced me to undertake a pilgrimage to redeem my ‘lost honor’ after this other man had left us, and I knew then that my father’s dream was truly dead. But I stubbornly clung to it, refusing to let it go, just as they,” he tilted his head toward the corridor, and Middleton assumed he meant to indicate the other Tracto-an’s, “refuse to abandon their dogma.”
“It’s an interesting tale,” Middleton said dryly, “but I’m not sure I see the point.”
Kratos sighed, and it was a deep, rumbling sound. “My pilgrimage took me to the south lands, called Argos, and there I met a peculiar woman who was on a quest of her own,” he smirked at this last bit. “We joined forces, and together we turned back a horde of demons before slaying their wretched god…or so we thought of it at the time. I have since come to learn that it was little more than a food harvester,” he snorted. “It was not long before I realized there was no point in returning to Blue Fang Pass; the dream it had sheltered was already dead. So I searched for meaning instead.”
“Did you find it?” Middleton asked in a challenging tone, although he was surprised to hear such introspection from the man.
“I did,” Kratos replied matter-of-factly. “But soon after I had done so, my world was visited by Starborn not unlike yourselves. Their leader—Jean Luc Montagne,” he said, meeting Middleton’s gaze as he said the name, “took recruits from the ranks of the worthy, including Kratos One Eye, Avenger of the Red Dawn. I was trained in the use of their weapons and earned the command of a battle team stationed aboard the warship your people call ‘Lucky Clover’.”
This was all a revelation to Middleton, who had never once suspected that his recruiting drive might have brought former pirates on board. “I didn’t know that,” he said neutrally.
“That is why I have told you,” Kratos said in a similar tone. “Your Admiral, however, was victorious in his clever attack and Jean Luc’s forced were laid to waste.”
“What did you do?” Middleton asked.
He shrugged indifferently, “I fought to protect the ship until I could do so no more, at which point my men—and superiors—had already abandoned our pledged duty. I found an escape pod and returned to the planet’s surface, unwilling to die for those who would not do likewise.” Kratos was silent for several moments before drawing himself up to his full height, “The meaning I found was simple, Captain: to write my name among the stars, however I am able to do so, before the rot of old age finally claims me. Jean Luc Montagne promised much, but delivered little,” he explained, “but you have given me everything I desired. Do with me as you will; I will die having done more here, on this ship, than I could have dreamed possible even three years ago.”
Captain Middleton considered the tale, finding no reason to doubt the man’s honesty, and nodded to himself. “Effective immediately, you’re off the Recon Team,” he said, straightening his posture and stepping into the cell as he met the other man’s eyes. Kratos seemed unsurprised by the order, but that quickly changed when Middleton added, “The Assault Team needs a new commander, as you well know. You’ll take the post, along with a field rank of PFC, and carry out my orders until you’re dead—or I find someone better.”
Kratos’ confusion slowly slipped from his face, and he drew himself up to a rigid approximation of attention, “Yes, Captain.”
“You’re to report to the hangar at nineteen hundred hours,” Middleton added as he turned to leave the cell. “There’s a gathering planned and I’ll expect you to greet your new team members there—without killing them,” Middleton added with a snort. “Whatever your differences are, you put it best when you told them that they’re in the past so that’s what I’m going to tell you: you’re here to carry out my orders, and if you’re incapable of doing that then you can get off this ship.”
“I will follow your commands until death,” Kratos said heavily.
“Then my first order,” Middleton said crisply, “is to keep your teammates alive and ready for action at a moment’s notice. We’re going to need every able body we have if we want to win.”
“I understand…and I will obey,” Kratos said grudgingly, but for some reason Middleton believed the man meant it. He knew that putting him in charge of Atticus’ hand-picked recruits was dropping a huge, steaming mess in his lap, but Kratos had done that very thing to Middleton by killing Atticus. If the big guy couldn’t figure out how to take it, he shouldn’t have gone around dishing it out.
“The former isn’t necessary,” Middleton said with a piercing look, “but the latter is.”
He wore his favorite, Taoist-inspired robe which he had been wearing several years earlier as the police broke down the door to his parents’ apartment and arrested him. Oddly enough, Fei Long had come to think of that particular robe as associated with freedom rather than incarceration. By giving him up to the authorities of his birth world, his parents had essentially freed him of any obligation he previously felt he owed them.
It was also the most authentic type of garment associated with his peoples’ culture that he could find which made it perfect for this particular assemblage.
He checked the chronometer he had placed beside the zither and saw that it was eighteen fifty seven hours, meaning that he would need to begin the event in three minutes.
He saw Captain Middleton enter the hangar and, despite the surprising turn of events which had taken place in the airlock with Captain Raubach, Fei Long detected no animosity, disappointment, fear, or other negative emotions from the crew as the captain moved toward the seat Fei Long had set aside for him.
But instead of sitting down, Middleton walked up to Fei Long and said, “I’ll need to address the crew before you begin.”
Fei Long nodded agreeably, “I will check my equipment one last time.”
Middleton nodded and turned to face the crowd, which consisted of very nearly every able-bodied member of the crew. Oddly, Lu Bu was still absent, and while she had not been scheduled to participate in one of the presentations Fei Long had expected to see her. Things had been tense with her ever since she had come back from the suicide missions, but Fei Long was determined to work through whatever issues may have arisen between them.
Fei Long sat behind his zither and pretended to check the recording gear which would accompany his playing. He had digitally created the various synthesized instruments which would accompany his play in order to give the full experience of the musical number he had chosen.
While he was arranging the sheet music before himself—he did not require it for himself, but reading it seemed to help him relax as he played—Captain Middleton said, “Can I have everyone’s attention?” The crew immediately snapped to attention, but Captain Middleton waved them off. “At ease; this will only take a minute.”
The crew relaxed somewhat, but there was still a palpable note of tension in the hangar which even Fei Long shared. He had no idea what the captain intended to say, but he was just as eager to find out as the rest of the crew appeared to be. Just before Captain Middleton began to speak, Lu Bu entered the shuttle bay carrying a long, narrow box which she made as if to bring to Fei Long, but stopped when she saw the captain preparing to speak.
“The past few weeks have been difficult,” the captain began. “And while I would like to take credit for this particular assembly, it was entirely Mr. Fei’s idea. I suggest we show him our gratitude,” he said, before turning pointedly toward Fei Long and applauding.
The rest of the crew joined him for a longer interval than Fei Long felt was comfortable but when the captain ceased so too did the crew.
“We’ll get on with the festivities soon enough,” Middleton promised, “but first I thought you all deserved to know that you’ve done a truly remarkable job. This is not only true for those crew who have been with the ship since its last deployment,” he said, giving Lieutenant Sarkozi, Sergeant Gnuko, and Lu Bu individual looks of gratitude, “but also those who joined us back at Tracto.”
Middleton’s gaze rested on Kratos—who had stood quietly in the corner for nearly twenty minutes—for several seconds before moving on to other members of the crew which had joined the ship recently.
“Many of us have bled for this mission,” Middleton continued, “and many of us have died. To those who are no longer with us, I cannot adequately express my pride and joy at having served with them. But to the rest of you,” he said, sweeping the assemblage heavily with his eyes, “I believe I can. I’m going to break protocol now and reveal the nature of our previous mission.”
A hushed series of whispers arose from the crowd, and Middleton stood silently for several seconds before continuing.
“We were tasked by Fleet Command with a mission that no other crew could have even dreamed of accomplishing,” he explained. “That mission was to gain access to the ComStat network so the rest of the MSP could stand a fighting chance against the droids, pirates, and whoever else would take the opportunity to prey on the people of the Spine when they—when we—are at our most vulnerable.” Shocked silence filled the chamber, and the captain allowed it to linger pointedly for several seconds before saying, “And we succeeded.”
“How is that even possible?” an engineer asked in bewilderment. “The ComStat network was destroyed when the Imperials withdrew.”
A chorus of assenting murmurs grew in volume as Middleton held up his hands haltingly, “Most of your department heads have known the true nature of our mission since our redeployment. You can discuss the facts of the matter with them after Mr. Fei’s event has concluded, but now is not the time for those particular questions.”
Middleton began to pace in front of Fei Long’s makeshift stage, and Fei Long marveled at the ease with which his commander could capture the room’s attention and hold it.
“That mission has been accomplished,” Middleton continued, “but another one now lies before us. And I’m here to say that none of you is compelled to undertake it if anything which has happened recently doesn’t agree with you,” he said severely. “Every man, woman, and Sundered,” he nodded to Toto and his family pointedly, “aboard this ship has served with rare distinction and valor. Should you choose not to go on with the ship as I take her into murky waters, you can hold your head high should we ever meet on the street afterward—I’ll probably even buy you a drink. Murphy knows you’ve earned it.”
There was some subdued laughter, but most of the crew wore expressions of concern or interest and did not join in short-lived mirth.
“But all of that is in the past,” Middleton said with a short, chopping gesture. “And now that we’ve done our duty to the fleet, it’s time to do our duty to the people of the Spine who have been maligned by those who take such a dim view of who we are, and what we believe in. You all know that I’m talking about Commodore Raubach and his Rim Fleet, who have systematically destabilized this entire Sector for some as-yet unknown purpose. But we have reason to believe,” Middleton turned and made brief eye contact with Fei Long, before doing likewise with Dr. Middleton and Lieutenant Sarkozi in turn, “that the Raubachs are developing a new weapon which will make everything they’ve done to this point seem like a polite welcoming gesture. Many of you know that even after we crippled her, the Dämmerung was able to hit us at ranges never before deemed possible.” Captain Middleton stopped his pacing, squared his shoulders to the group, and clasped his hands behind his back, “We have discovered the technology which enabled this and while the technical details are still sketchy, I am convinced that with each passing day this technology is being perfected and installed on warships under Commodore Raubach’s command. Simply put, ladies and gentlemen, this is the gravest threat the Spine has ever faced—up to and including the events which led to the signing of the Union Treaty fifty years ago, or even the Droid menace which the rest of the fleet is currently addressing.”
Fei Long had, indeed, come to appreciate the tactical value of possessing such powerful targeting computers which did not run any risk of spontaneously spawning an AI, and he agreed wholeheartedly with Captain Middleton’s grave assessment of the situation.
“With this technology on his ships,” Middleton continued, his delivery becoming more passionate than Fei Long was used to seeing from his commanding officer, “Commodore Raubach could, with nothing but a pair of corvettes a
nd a destroyer, wipe out three fourths of the SDFs in Sector 24. The Commodore’s fleet is comprised of at least forty warships,” he said gravely. “I don’t think I need to do any more math to convey what this means.”
Captain Middleton turned pointedly to the pair of Liberator torpedoes stowed against the far wall, and the eyes of the assembled crew followed his gaze. Even Fei Long had to admit that the presence of the weapons made him surprisingly uneasy.
“I have a plan,” Middleton said after nearly a minute’s silence while still looking at the Liberators, “and that plan will put an end to these Imperial thugs’ reign of terror over the worlds we call home once and for all. But this plan will only give us one shot, and we’ll need more than weapons to execute it,” he said, turning to face the crowd again. “We’ll need a crew that can do the impossible; we’ll need people who’ve been bathed in hellfire and spat in the Demon’s eye afterward,” he said, and Fei Long felt his chest swell with pride as he noted several of the crew appear to react similarly, “we’ll need people who trust each other to carry out the mission, no matter the cost…and we’ll need the best damned ship in the Spineward Sectors to take us where we need to go. But I don’t want your answer now,” he said, holding up his hands to forestall what was clearly going to become a spontaneous round of cheers. “This isn’t the kind of decision to be made lightly; our flight plan will take us to a colony in two days’ time. I want each of you to think about what’s happened, what we’ve been through, and whether you want a part in what’s to come. If you choose to step off the ship, you’ll get my heartfelt thanks for having done what even I didn’t think was possible. But for now, let’s enjoy Kongming’s presentation.”
Fei Long was shocked to hear Captain Middleton refer to him by his courtesy name. He was not offended, since he actually did consider the man to be his peer, but he was surprised beyond words that Captain Middleton had actually learned his chosen nickname. Captain Middleton sat beside Doctor Middleton, each having taken their prescribed seats as Fei Long had hoped they would.