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

by Caleb Wachter

  Lu Bu approached the makeshift stage and Fei Long gave her a concerned look. She sat down beside him and opened the long, slender box she had brought. Inside was a simple, but well-maintained, flute and Fei Long’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “You can play?” he whispered to her, and she shot him a withering look as she gestured to the sheet music. He tilted the pedestal so she could see it more clearly and asked, “Which parts can you perform?”

  She sighed, “You play the zither and I will play the other melodies.”

  Fei Long excitedly removed the tracks from the accompanying background music and then stood to address the crowd. “Thank you for coming,” he said with a deep bow. “I have often been told that I speak too much,” he sliced a look at Lu Bu before giving Captain Middleton a more direct look and quirking a grin, “so I will endeavor to suppress my base nature to the best of my ability. It occurred to me recently that each of us comes from a unique place and culture. And yet, while we have served alongside each other and become closer to a true family than anything to which I have ever been a party, there are many things about each of you that I would like to learn. Tonight is an attempt to share some of who we are with each other. I will begin by inviting you to experience some small part of who I am, and where I come from, while several others have volunteered to do likewise. Now, since I have so clearly failed to accomplish my goal of not speaking too much,” a hearty round of laughter erupted from a nearby group of crewmembers, causing Fei Long to relax fractionally as he finished, “I will attempt to compensate for that shortcoming by playing a song called ‘Spirit of Heaven & Earth,’ and I will be accompanied by Lu Bu.”

  The crew applauded as Fei Long sat behind the zither and activated the accompanying recording, which was keyed to begin playing when he struck the first note on his zither.

  “I did not know you could play, Fengxian,” he whispered after making the last of his preparations.

  “There is much that even you do not know, Kongming,” she replied before placing the flute to her lips in preparation.

  There was a strange note to her voice when she spoke which he did not understand, but he knew that there would be time for questions later. He closed his eyes, drew a calming breath, and plucked the first note of the zither and his hands began to move in their long-practiced dance over the instrument’s board. Lu Bu’s entry was perfectly timed and, though her play was not as technically precise as the recording Fei Long had made, Fei Long felt a measure of peace and serenity which he had considered impossible to attain during this life.

  The music rang out through hangar and, though the acoustics left something to be desired, the performance appeared to have its desired effect on the battered crew. Even Captain and Doctor Middleton seemed at peace, as halfway through the song Fei Long noted that they had discretely clasped each other’s hands.

  For seven minutes and thirty five seconds, during which time Lu Bu played one of Fei Long’s favorite pieces of music with him, all was right with the universe.

  Epilogue I: Up The Middle

  “You have to tell him, Bu,” Doctor Middleton insisted calmly. “He has a right to know.”

  Lu Bu shook her head, “The time is not good.”

  Doctor Middleton sighed as she leaned back in her chair. They had not spoken of this particular subject since Lu Bu had been discharged from sickbay following her time in the cryo-stasis tube. “The time is never good,” Jo said as she clasped Lu Bu’s hand between her own. “Don’t make the same mistakes I’ve made, Bu.”

  “You are my friend,” Lu Bu said, feeling a measure of annoyance at Doctor Middleton’s insistence regarding this particular matter, “but you are also my doctor. You may not tell him or Captain Middleton unless I agree, yes?”

  Doctor Middleton looked wounded, “Of course not, Bu; we have several months before reporting becomes mandatory. But that’s not the point…you have to think about this very carefully.”

  “This one is not stupid,” Lu Bu growled.

  “I wasn’t suggesting you are,” Doctor Middleton said patiently.

  “Then why do you treat me like stupid?” Lu Bu snapped. “I understand risks; you explain them well.”

  “But we don’t know enough about your—“

  “What happens will happen,” Lu Bu cut her off. She fully understood the gravity of the situation, but she also knew that her duties as a Lancer were important to the Pride’s continued survival. Without her contributions to the Recon Team, the ship would have almost certainly have fallen to the Dämmerung. She could not abandon the people who depended on her—it was a simple number’s game as far as she was concerned.

  “Bu,” Doctor Middleton squeezed her hand gently, “I will never abandon you, no matter what happens. But you need to know that I’ve been where you are right now,” she explained, and though she dearly wanted to lash out at the older woman, Lu Bu knew that she spoke truly. “I’m telling you that if I had it to do over again, I would have made different choices…I just don’t want you making the same mistakes I did.”

  Lu Bu nodded slowly as she tried to compose her words. “You are more than friend,” Lu Bu said seriously as she placed her free hand on top of Doctor Middleton’s, “you are friend, you are family, and you are elder. This one—I,” she corrected severely, “value your wisdom very much. But I must decide this.”

  Doctor Middleton clearly wanted to argue further, but surprisingly she relented. “Just don’t get angry when I bring it up again, ok?”

  Lu Bu smiled, “Ok.”

  “Good,” Doctor Middleton said before standing, “now let’s go down to the hangar bay for the sendoffs.”

  Lu Bu nodded, but before Doctor Middleton could move past her she grasped the older woman gently in her arms and said, “Thank you, Mother.”

  The two embraced silently in their shared quarters for a long time before proceeding to the hangar.

  “Captain, it’s time,” Lieutenant Sarkozi reported after entering the ready room.

  “Thank you, XO,” he acknowledged as he sent the confirmation message across the ComStat network telling Admiral Montagne that they had accomplished their mission. He had no intention of responding to his C.O.’s inevitable call to return to the fleet to support their efforts against the Droids, because doing so would only place his crew’s careers in jeopardy if they did not at least attempt to argue with his chosen course.

  They had made orbit around the colony, which was named Two Burr’s On—for some reason that only Murphy knew. The two day deadline, which he had set prior to the surprisingly enjoyable cultural displays conducted by Mr. Fei and several others, had arrived.

  Middleton knew that his actions were at least indirect insubordination, but if it ever went before a court the list would be more like sedition, misappropriation of MSP property, mutiny, and premeditated murder for the summary execution of Captain Raubach.

  But try as he might, he had been unable to determine a better course of action which did not amount to, as Garibaldi had put it, tucking their tails and running home to mama in the hope that she might do something about it. The Raubachs had already fitted the Dämmerung with the strange, seemingly alien technology, which meant they had very likely already done so with other vessels as well.

  And, to Middleton’s mind, the Raubachs were the last people in the Spine who he wanted in possession of that type of tactical advantage. They had proven willing, or even eager, to deploy bioweapons, and people who would do that needed to be stopped—soon.

  After collecting his thoughts, he made his way out through the bridge, and a glance showed that Mr. Strider and Helmsman Marcos were absent from their posts. Middleton would have gladly admitted that he was nervous about the outcome of the crew’s decision, but losing his Navigator and Helmsman were going to be tough blows to recover from.

  Still, he knew it was inevitable that a significant portion of the crew would choose not to go along with the Pride for its next mission. So he kept a level head as his fee
t took him to the shuttle bay far more quickly than he would have expected the trip to take.

  Lieutenant Sarkozi remained on the bridge, having already attested to her desire to see the mission through during a private conference he had held with her. So in a private moment outside the hangar doors, Middleton stopped and drew a long, deep breath before opening the doors and stepping through.

  There was a large crowd gathered outside the shuttle, and among those present were Mr. Strider, Helmsman Marcos, Hephaestion the Sensors operator, and Toto’s entire family. There were others, most of whom were Tracto-ans who had received life-altering repairs to crippled limbs, but the faces he noted in particular stood out as losses the Pride would simply be incapable of replacing.

  He estimated fifty total people in the shuttle bay, and they turned to face him as the doors slid shut. Even Kratos was present, which Middleton was not entirely surprised by, and he stepped forward before the captain could gesture for the shuttle’s pilot to enter the craft and fire up the engines.

  “Captain Middleton,” Kratos said, his deep, rumbling voice echoing through the hangar.

  “Kratos,” Middleton acknowledged with a shallow nod.

  “It seems each of these people have something they wish to say,” the massive Tracto-an said, gesturing to the crowd. “I will begin.”

  Middleton’s eyes narrowed, but he gestured for the mammoth of a man to continue.

  “I have fought in a hundred and six battles in my life,” Kratos said, “and I am now an old man. Though I do not share all values of those born of Tracto, I do share this one,” he said, taking a step forward and raising his hand to his chest in an antiquated form of salute, “no man should die in his bed. I will serve you until I can no longer do so, for in that way alone can I write my name in the stars.”

  Middleton looked down blankly at Kratos’ hand as he proffered it. But he regained his senses quickly enough to embrace the man’s grip, and after he had done so Kratos moved to a position behind Middleton.

  Another Tracto-an stepped forward—this one a massive woman he recognized as Bernice, a Tracto-an assigned to the Recon Team—and she repeated Kratos’ salute. “I am proud to fight for your Pride,” she said in a thick accent quite different from Kratos’. Middleton assumed she referred to the name of the ship rather than his vanity, and he accepted her outstretched hand gladly, noting that it still bore nerve stimulation plugs which were required for the long-term rehabilitation of a previously crippled limb.

  “You fight well, Bernice,” he said, knowing that every report he had received on her had described her in absolutely glowing terms.

  She moved to stand beside Kratos, and Helmsman Marcos stepped forward next. “Captain…” she began bravely before her lip began to quiver. She visibly tried to regain control of her emotions, but after several seconds tears were streaming down her face and she decided to speak in spite of them, “You gave me a chance, sir. I…I…I’ve made enough mistakes in the past to fill ten shift reports, sir, but I won’t add leaving this ship to that list. This is home now, sir, and I’ll do everything I can to prove that I deserve the break you gave me.”

  Middleton accepted her hand and shook his head severely, “No one gave you any breaks, Marcos. As far as I’m concerned you’ve earned everything you have; you can fly my ship any day.”

  She nodded graciously and moved to a position beside Kratos and Bernice. The massive Tracto-an woman placed an arm gingerly around the tiny-by-comparison Marcos.

  Next up was Toto, who brought his entire family with him. “You lost my gunships,” the massive Sundered growled. “I expect them you to replace.”

  Middleton wasn’t entirely certain how to respond to that, or what the uplift was implying exactly, so he nodded. “It’s not exactly at the top of my list, Toto, but it is there,” he said, deciding that honesty was the best policy in this particular circumstance. “Your family has sacrificed as much as any on this ship and you’ve also contributed as much as anyone else. I won’t forget that—ever—and neither will your shipmates.”

  Toto glowered at Middleton, but his wife reached up and tugged on the hairs of his side irritably as she grunted and squealed something at him in what was apparently their native ‘dialect.’ The silverback uplift replied with a decidedly less-than-authoritative tone, and the female gave him a stern look before Toto grumbled, “My wife says ‘thank you,’ and that children are safest here. She…we,” he added with a sharp look in her direction, “will stay.”

  It wasn’t an A-grade sentiment in Middleton’s eyes, but Toto had proven to be a more than capable Tactical Officer and his family had done wonders with their small craft maintenance. And that was to say nothing of the assistance which Yide, the eldest of Toto’s children, had provided Fei Long in building the attack drones.

  “You’re all welcome here,” Middleton said to Toto before fixing each of his family in turn, allowing his eye contact with the uplift’s wife to linger for several seconds before he added, “for as long as you like.”

  The uplifts made their way to the forming line behind Captain Middleton, and next up was Strider, who looked around warily at the people around him as he approached.

  “So…” the former pirate captain began, “don’t be thinkin’ I don’t know a thing or two about peer pressure, Captain Middleton. I be of a mind to hop that shuttle and disappear into the big black, you know?”

  “No one is pressuring you, Strider,” Middleton said seriously. “You’ve already performed enough service, as far as I’m concerned, to earn your way off this ship if that’s what you choose.”

  “Really?” Strider blurted.

  “Yes,” Middleton nodded heavily, “really.”

  Strider seemed to consider it before nodding. “Then I be choosin…” he looked over his shoulder at the shuttle with a torn expression before sighing, “bah, I ain’t never caused this much ruckus even when I be havin’ a squadron of ships at my command. And mussin’ the hair of some Imperial nobility?” he said appreciatively. “Sign me up, Tyrone!”

  “That’s ‘Captain,’ Mr. Strider,” Middleton scolded before adding, “and I aim to do more than muss up their hair.”

  “Aye,” Strider said knowingly, holding his hand down low in an odd gesture which Middleton had seen on several holo-vids about various counterculture groups.

  He debated whether or not to attempt the complex handshakes he had seen, but decided against it. “Good to have you, Mr. Strider,” he said levelly.

  “Ain’t be no thing, Captain,” Strider said knowingly as he awkwardly accepted Middleton’s hand and shook it. “Besides, if I know Lynch he still be lookin’ to collect on that debt he thinks I owe him—which I don’t,” he added incredulously. “I be payin’ that off already some two years ago, see? How can it be my problem if his courier be whack in the head and takes a trip into the Verge instead of—“

  “Mr. Strider,” Middleton said, fighting to keep from grinning at the man’s admittedly entertaining ramblings, “get in line.”

  Strider stopped mid-sentence and looked around sheepishly before grinning and doing as he was told.

  And so it went with the rest of the assemblage, with only two crewmembers actually choosing to leave the Pride of Prometheus. One was Winters, the Comm. operator, who had family on the colony below and had decided that six years in the MSP had been enough. The other was a Lancer who had been injured so badly during the coolant leak in Main Engineering that he could only possibly recover from those injuries at a fully-equipped rehabilitation facility on a Core World.

  Middleton tried to convince the Lancer, whose name was Dix, to remain aboard the ship. But the man was adamant in his refusal to be a burden to his crewmates, so Middleton had relented and watched them board. He had not needed to remind them of the secrecy of the Pride’s mission; each had volunteered to take it to their graves before he had even thought to bring it up, and he trusted them to keep to their word.

  He waited until the shuttle’s en
gines fired before making his way to the corridor where, apparently, the rest of the crew who had been in the hangar had gathered—along with several department heads, including Chief Engineer Garibaldi.

  “So,” Garibaldi said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them expectantly, “how do we hit ‘em, Captain?”

  Middleton felt all eyes on him in that moment, and for once he had to admit that Mikey had been right about him knowing what to say.

  “The same way we always do, Chief,” he replied with an unusually fierce grin that came to his face entirely unbidden. “Hard, fast and straight up the middle.”

  The End

  Preview of Ure Infectus, an Imperium Cicernus novel

  by Caleb Wachter

  Chapter I: Fear the Voters

  “I fear I’ll be working late, darling,” Mayor Cantwell said in a conciliatory tone through his earpiece’s attached microphone. He had never actually intended to make it home for dinner that night, but a rather surprising visit had interrupted his other plans for the evening and had therefore provided the perfect cover story for his pre-planned extracurricular activities. “Give my love to the children…I love you too. Bye-bye,” he tapped the earpiece to sever the communication with his wife, before turning his attention back to the Professional Hammerball League representative sitting across from him.

  “I trust you find everything in order, Mr. Mayor?” the representative pressed. He was a tall, muscular man around fifty years of age. Judging from his apparently unmodified physique, Mayor Cantwell deduced that he was a former professional athlete—probably a hammerball player from the same league which he now represented.

  The Mayor looked over the short, plain document and he suppressed the urge to nod. The Professional Hammerball League Commissioner had struck a behind-closed-doors deal with Mayor Cantwell some years earlier, and that deal had seen New Lincoln—Mayor Cantwell’s city—play host to the Anvil. The Anvil was the largest sporting event on their entire world, and though hammerball had surprisingly failed to catch on with the nearby systems, it was ludicrously popular with the locals on Virgin Prime—collectively referred to as ‘Virgin’ by most of its inhabitants.