No Middle Ground (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride) (33 page)

“It is,” Haldis grudged. “But I believe the Captain confiscated some from the ‘gas mining facility’,” he said the last three words deliberately. “If I have heard correctly, there is more than enough there to make the suit you desire.”

“I shall endeavor to secure the material for you, Master Smith,” Fei Long said, respectfully bowing his head behind his clasped hands before turning and making his way back to his quarters to retrieve some supplies.

He had hoped the Stone Rhino hide would suffice for the armor he had designed, but in truth he was more than pleased by the apparent knowledge and ability of Haldis, the armorer-turned-machinist. And if what the Tracto-an said was true, then Fei Long had only to ask the Captain for access to the material.

But that would have to wait, at least for a time. Because if he read the demeanor of the crew accurately then they were preparing for yet another battle—and he had his own contributions to make in defense of his new home, the
Pride of Prometheus
.

Chapter XXVIII: Last Minute Details

“Let’s work our way around the table,” Middleton said after the last of his senior officers had arrived. “Chief, why don’t you lead off?”

Chief Engineer Garibaldi nodded as he leaned forward on the conference room table. “In the three days since the fight with the
Cardinal’s Wrath
, my people have been working around the clock. We tried to get the
Wrath
’s systems back online, but there was too much damage done by the ship’s crew before we managed to round them up. So we’ve focused our efforts on the
Pride
; her forward shield array is at 86%, but the other facings are at max. We’ve patched the damage to the bow’s armor plating and reinforced those compromised areas, and thanks to the extra capacitors and relays we got from Shèhuì Héxié, the rest of the ship’s systems are in tip-top shape. In addition to transferring the Destroyer’s arsenal of ninety Starfire missiles over to the
Pride
’s cargo bay, we even managed to get a few of the
Wrath
’s power relays and shield emitters transferred over to the
Elysium’s Wing
. The corvette’s engines are still a mess, so she won’t be fast, but she can maneuver and keep her shields up and weapons hot if we get into a firefight. I’d put her at 60% of her rated combat performance, maybe 70% if we can minimize her lack of speed like we did against the
Wrath
.”

“62% and 76%, Chief,” Ensign Sarkozi cut in, and Garibaldi waved his hand in mock exasperation as he sat back in his chair, ceding the floor to the young Tactical Officer. “The Corvette won’t be able to hold its own unprotected but that should be minimized, since its best role would be providing support for the
Pride
. If we keep the
Wings
in formation with us to cover the
Pride
’s flanks, both ships will benefit from the overlapping firing arcs. These Hydras were specifically designed for group deployments,” she said pointedly, as though it needed to be said.

Middleton nodded in satisfaction as yet again Ensign Sarkozi proved her aptitude for tactical theory—and her barely-checked ambition. He turned to Ensign Jardine, “How are your new decoys coming along, Ensign?”

Jardine leaned forward and nodded enthusiastically. “We’ve got six of them rigged and ready to deploy, Captain. It takes Fei Long and I about two hours to rig each one now that he’s worked the kinks out of the software, but we only have enough transponders for three more units. So unless our guests arrive in the next ten hours, we should have nine total decoy units ready to deploy.” He flashed a vicious grin, “I can’t wait to see how they perform, sir.”

Captain Middleton allowed himself to return the other man’s sentiment as he gave a satisfied nod, “Good work, Ensign. Relay my compliments to Mr. Fei Long.” Middleton then turned to Doctor Cho, “What is sickbay’s status, Doctor Cho?”

The doctor gestured to the men and women gathered around the conference room table. “Each crewmember has been administered a cocktail of antivirals, in the event a bio-weapon is deployed against us. In accordance with your wishes, the environmental systems have been reconfigured to provide maximum air screening without compromising the priority areas of the ship. Should the bioweapon be introduced to the ship’s air supply, our new protocols should reduce crew casualties by roughly sixty percent. Doctor Middleton,” Cho added hesitantly, “has agreed to provide her expertise in the event we receive casualties.”

“Very good, Doctor,” Middleton said officiously, keeping the wince he felt from playing out on his face. Doctor Cho appeared competent, but he was still uncertain of the man’s attitude and ability to perform under pressure. And the truth was that Jo, for all her flaws, was the best trauma surgeon he had ever known.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Jersey said, waiting until Middleton gave him the signal to continue before saying, “I volunteer to command the
Elysium’s Wings.”

Captain Middleton shook his head. “You’ll be needed here, Commander,” he said evenly. “In her current state, the
Wings
is even less maneuverable than the
Pride
, so I’ll need my best helmsman here to make sure we don’t concede any unnecessary ground. Depending on how heavy they come, this battle might be decided by inches—and I know you can get me those inches while manning the helm.” Middleton turned to Ensign Sarkozi, “Are you ready for your first command, Ensign?”

The young woman’s mouth fell open briefly before she snapped a salute, “Ready and willing, Captain.”

“Good,” he said with a curt nod, “since your ship is the less maneuverable of the two, you’re to coordinate maneuvers directly with Commander Jersey for as long as we can maintain communication. If we lose comm., you take whatever action you deem optimal; I trust your tactical judgment implicitly.”

“Thank you, Captain,” she said, and Middleton imagined he actually saw her swell before he swiveled to face Ensign Jardine. “Have all comm. modifications been implemented, Ensign?”

“Yes, sir,” Jardine replied. “We’ve installed redundant point-to-point laser comm. systems on both ships in the event we experience blanket jamming. Those systems won’t take much abuse, but with eight installed on each ship and with the decoy units also equipped with one each, they should ensure uninterrupted communications until those systems have been destroyed.”

“All right,” Middleton said, leaning forward and clasping his hands emphatically as he had reached the end of his unwritten agenda. “Any comments? Questions?” he asked before dryly adding, “jokes…criticisms?”

A short round of chuckles was followed by deafening silence in the conference room which, combined with the looks of determination on the faces of his officers, filled Middleton with a measure of confidence he had not previously possessed. He stood from the table and let a vicious sneer spread across his features before saying, “Let’s go kill some pirates.”

Chapter XXIX: Twilight’s Fall

No more than twelve hours after the senior staff meeting, the tactical display on the main viewer lit up and Middleton felt a strange sense of calm come over him.

“Multiple jumps detected,” the Sensors operator called out as the screen’s flashing icons on the edge of the system began to populate with relevant data. “Reading four…make that, six, vessels inbound.”

As the icons began to populate one by one, Middleton heard his teeth begin to grind as his jaw clenched tight. “Verify those readings,” he said evenly as he forced himself to sit rigidly in his chair.

“Verifying,” the woman at Sensors acknowledged tensely. After several seconds, she said, “Readings confirmed, Captain: sensors show four CR-70 corvettes, one Essex-class Light Destroyer, and one Soyuz-class Heavy Destroyer.”

The orbital path of the planet they had set the colonists down on had brought it adjacent to the newcomers’ point of arrival, and it only took a few seconds for Middleton to deduce they would be in firing range in less than one hour’s time.

“Helm,” he said after finishing his silent calculations, “coordinate with Ensign Sarkozi over the point-to-point system: we are to make best possible speed to interdict these newcomers.”

He turned to the Comm. station, at which Fei Long currently sat beside the Second Shift Comm. stander, a petty officer named Rand. “Watch for any outgoing signals, Comm., as well as any jamming activity.”

“Yes, Captain,” Petty Officer Rand replied, while Fei Long worked at a calm, yet blistering pace at his workstation.

“Mr. Fei,” Middleton added, and when the young man gave him a short nod without taking his eyes from his console, the Captain continued, “prepare your nearest decoy units along the axis between our two formations, and be ready to maneuver the others into position on my order.”

“Four units are available for immediate use, Captain,” Fei Long replied calmly without ever taking his eyes off whatever task he was seeing to, “while three more can be maneuvered into range. The others are too far.”

“Captain,” Rand said sharply, “I’m receiving a broadcast on all channels.”

“Put it through,” he ordered, sitting back in his chair as the main viewer morphed into the image of a man with a short, neatly-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard beneath a pair of ice-cold, blue eyes.

“This is Captain James Raubach IV, of the Rim Fleet Heavy Destroyer
Dämmerung
,” the man said in a tone that spoke to years of hard-won command experience. “The
Pride of Prometheus
and her Commander, Tyrone Middleton, are hereby ordered to stand down, heave to, and prepare to receive lawfully-appointed inspection teams. Failure to comply will constitute an act of aggression against the Rim Fleet and the citizens under its protection.” The message cut out, and Middleton quietly released a pent-up breath as he came to know the identity of his opponent.

Captain James Raubach—apparently the husband of the late Captain Meisha Raubach—was a veritable legend among the Rim Fleet’s pool of officers, second only in stature to his father, Commodore James Raubach III. Middleton had actually attended a lecture conducted by the man, who had stepped in for his father at the last minute during a conference seven years earlier. James Raubach IV was all business, much as Middleton imagined his father was, and possessed as cold and analytical of a mind as Middleton had ever had the pleasure of examining up close.

But it wasn’t the fact that James Raubach had sent his favored son which worried Middleton. It wasn’t even the fact that Middleton’s people were, on the face of things, outgunned nearly three to one by the six ship flotilla. What concerned the
Pride
’s Captain most was that Captain Raubach knew who he was up against…which should not have been possible, given the fact that inter-system communication without physical transfer of the data, required access to the recently-defunct ComStat network…

The Imperials had taken all strategic assets of significant value, or those owned outright by the Imperium of Man, when they had dissolved the Union Treaty some months earlier. The ComStat network utilized faster-than-light communications methods which no one outside of the Empire had managed to duplicate—and it appeared that Captain Raubach and his Rim Fleet had somehow managed to not only prevent the Imperials from reclaiming all ComStat equipment from this sector, but they had somehow gained access to it!

Captain Rodriguez must have sent a data packet containing intelligence on the
Pride
and its Commanding Officer prior to Fei Long’s jamming of their signal, and that message had clearly been communicated via the ComStat network.

“Steady on, bridge,” Middleton said as he felt the tension on the bridge begin to mount. “Time to intercept: forty two minutes,” he said after performing the calculations on his chair’s console.

Those forty two minutes ticked by one after another, and the Captain was pleased to see that after fifteen minutes, most of his bridge crew appeared to have reigned in their nerves and were going about their tasks efficiently, if a bit tensely—which was more than understandable.

When the intercept clock wound down to six minutes remaining, Middleton squared himself in his chair. “Comm., open a channel to the
Dämmerung
,” he ordered calmly after allowing his mind to work through the myriad angles he saw in the situation before him. He grimly noted that the six ships of Captain Raubach’s tiny fleet had taken up a classic, textbook position with the corvettes out wide of the Destroyers in a slightly collapsed ‘X.’ From such a posture, it would be impossible for Middleton and his two ships to gain an advantageous position on any of the vessels.

“Channel open, sir,” the stander reported after a brief delay.

“This is Captain Tim Middleton of the MSP Cruiser
Pride of Prometheus
,” he said as he donned his best poker face, knowing he had never needed it as much as he did just then. “This system and its inhabitants are currently under the protection of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet; all vessels approaching from the hyper limit are to come about and make station-keeping in the interests of avoiding unnecessary hostilities.”

The viewer once again morphed into the close-up visage of Captain Raubach, whose expression was just as cold and unyielding as Middleton hoped his own appeared. “I’m not going to mince words,
Captain
,” he said with the barest hint of derision at Middleton’s rank, “you are hereby under arrest for the act of piracy involving a Promethean vessel, and the murder of seventy two people. The latter act will be regarded as a war crime under the Confederation Military Code since the victims had lawfully surrendered prior to your cold-blooded act. Surrender peacefully and there is no need for your crew to share your fate.”

“Mr. Fei,” Middleton said calmly, as he locked eyes with Captain Raubach through the view-screen, “is the rest of the fleet in position?”

“All six vessels await your command, Captain,” Fei Long replied in a carrying voice.