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

  Up The Middle

  (Spineward Sectors: Middleton’s Pride, Book Two)

  by

  Caleb Wachter

  Copyright © 2014 by Caleb Wachter

  All rights reserved.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. All resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental. Respect my electronic rights because the money you save today will be the book I can't afford to write for you tomorrow.

  Other Books by Caleb Wachter

  As of 12-03-2014

  SPINEWARD SECTORS: MIDDLETON’S PRIDE

  No Middle Ground

  SPHEREWORLD NOVEL SERIES

  Joined at the Hilt: Union

  SPHEREWORLD NOVELLAS

  Between White and Grey

  SEEDS OF HUMANITY: THE COBALT HERESY SERIES

  Revelation

  Reunion

  IMPERIUM CICERNUS: THE CHIMERA ADJUSTMENT

  Ure Infectus

  COLLABORATIVE WORKS BY LUKE SKY WACHTER & CALEB WACHTER

  SPINEWARD SECTORS NOVELLAS

  Admiral’s Lady: Eyes of Ice, Heart of Fire

  Admiral’s Lady: Ashes for Ashes, Blood for Blood

  Books by my Brother: Luke Sky Wachter

  SPINEWARD SECTORS NOVEL SERIES

  Admiral Who?

  Admiral’s Gambit

  Admiral’s Tribulation

  Admiral’s Trial

  Admiral’s Revenge

  Admiral’s Spine

  RISE OF THE WITCH GUARD NOVEL SERIES

  The Blooding

  The Painting

  RISE OF THE WITCH GUARD NOVELLAS

  The Boar Knife

  Follow me at Seeds of Humanity Facebook Group

  Join www.PacificCrestPublishing.com.

  Be sure to stop by the blog at blog.PacificCrestPublishing.com for updates.

  Be sure to stop by the blog at blog.admiralwho.com for updates.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue I: A New Course

  Prologue II: Sleeping Dragon Ridge

  Chapter I: From the Top

  Chapter II: A Medical Quandary

  Chapter III: Creative Interpretation

  Chapter IV: A Demonstration

  Chapter V: A Gambit at Gambit

  Chapter VI: A Wizard’s Duel

  Chapter VII: Testing a Theory

  Chapter VIII: Two Weeks…

  Chapter IX: A New Game

  Chapter X: Unusual Recruits

  Chapter XI: An Arms Race

  Chapter XII: Setting Course

  Chapter XIII: Girding Up

  Chapter XIV: First Down

  Chapter XV: Hot Pursuit

  Chapter XVI: Stargazing

  Chapter XVII: Nerd Diplomacy

  Chapter XVIII: A Drop-off and a Lead

  Chapter XIX: The Second Command

  Chapter XX: A New Wrinkle

  Chapter XXI: Reconciliation is Hard

  Chapter XXII: Pulling at Threads

  Chapter XXIII: The Welcoming Party

  Chapter XXIV: “I have you now.”

  Chapter XXV: On the Ropes

  Chapter XXVI: The Couched Lance

  Chapter XXVII: Receiving a Charge

  Chapter XXVIII: Touchdown

  Chapter XXIX: Maneuvering for Advantage

  Chapter XXX: The Shot

  Chapter XXXI: A Ride fit for a Commodore

  Chapter XXXII: Holding Out vs. Breaking Through

  Chapter XXXIII: The Price of Victory

  Chapter XXXIV: Tough Choices

  Chapter XXXV: A Snail’s Pace

  Chapter XXXVI: Capital!

  Chapter XXXVII: A Beast’s Cage

  Chapter XXXVIII: Patching Holes

  Chapter XXXIX: A Showdown

  Chapter XL: Disappointment & Strengthening Bonds

  Chapter XLI: Shopping

  Chapter XLII: A Fresh Coat of Paint

  Chapter XLIII: Security Deposits

  Chapter XLIV: A Fresh Coat of Paint

  Chapter XLV: Beast Mode

  Chapter XLVI: The Final Nail

  Chapter XLVII: Cocked, Locked…

  Chapter XLVIII: …and Ready to Rock

  Chapter XLIX: No Going Back

  Chapter L: A Culture of Pride

  Epilogue I: Up The Middle

  Preview of Ure Infectus, an Imperium Cicernus novel

  Chapter I: Fear the Voters

  Prologue I: A New Course

  The conference room doors slid shut behind Lieutenant Commander Middleton, who schooled his features into a sour expression as he moved stiffly past the small group of people waiting for their own meeting with Vice Admiral Jason Montagne.

  Middleton’s second in command, an Ensign named Sarkozi—who he had recently field-commissioned to the rank of Lieutenant when he elevated her to the position of Executive Officer—fell in at his shoulder as he ground his teeth.

  “How was the mee—“ she began as they crossed the room, but Middleton snapped a hand up angrily, cutting her off mid-sentence.

  “Not now, XO,” he growled, drawing a few interested looks from the crew stationed on the Armor Prince.

  His footfalls were audible as they made their way down the long corridor and Middleton was doing everything he could to give the impression of a boiling mad officer who had just received the tongue-lashing of the century by his superior. The truth was, while most of it was for show, there was a not inconsequential thread of bitterness running through him which he hadn’t expected to feel.

  Middleton’s ship, the Pride of Prometheus, had been on patrol without any meaningful support for over half a year. They had fought pirates, droids, inexperience, and myriad other battles during that time only to return to ‘home space’ and find those contributions to be nearly ignored by the other members of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet.

  And, given the story told by the tactical summaries and after-action reports which he had gotten his hands on, Middleton had to grudgingly admit that his own ship’s accomplishments had been somewhat less impactful, at least by comparison, than he had expected them to be. The MSP had just concluded a knock-down, drag-out fight with the Sector’s most prominent pirate organization and had simultaneously managed to rid the area of a previously undocumented Bug threat.

  The two officers entered a lift and Middleton slapped the icon which would take them to the shuttle bay. As soon as the doors slid shut, he exhaled deeply and shook his head. He was glad to finally be able to relax.

  “Sir?” Sarkozi asked warily. She was a petite, blond-haired woman in her early twenties with brilliant, blue eyes. Her tactical acumen was, if Middleton was being honest, significantly greater than even his had been at the same point in his career—and to Middleton, that was saying something.

  “It’s nothing, Lieutenant,” he said easily as a tight smile stretched his lips. She exhaled softly, as though a burning question had just been answered positively, and Middleton shot her a reproachful look. “The field promotions are still very much under review,” he added pointedly, and Sarkozi’s expression darkened fractionally. “But,” he added after a brief pause,” at least we’ve got our orders.”

  This time when Sarkozi exhaled, she did so more measuredly and gave a short nod. “The crew will be pleased,” she said officiously.

  Middleton snorted. “Some of them will,” he agreed darkly. Middleton had forged a bond with the members of his crew over the previous months and had come to think of that relationship as a deep one, but Admiral Montagne had expressed a need for experienced officers and crew in order to man the rest of the vessels in the MSP fleet—a fleet which,
when Middleton had left, had been nothing but a laughable idea.

  But now it seemed that the Little Admiral had managed to round up enough supporters to wage war with what had to be the largest pirate organization in recent history—and he had won!

  Tyrone ‘Tim’ Middleton had to admit that the Little Admiral’s latest victory had been nothing short of inspired. Admiral Montagne had, using nothing but an aged Heavy Cruiser, fought off wave after wave of Bug expeditionary forces which traditionally went ahead of a Hive Fleet. That Hive Fleet had been bearing down on Tracto—the planet of genetically-engineered super soldiers living in a strange, medieval society—while the Pirate Lord had taken control over the planet itself, along with every other piece of hardware which Admiral Montagne had left in orbit.

  The brilliance of the Little Admiral’s plan had been in its bold simplicity. A Bug Fleet operates in a predictable fashion, and the Pirate Lord had been counting on that pattern of behavior repeating itself as expected. A major part of a Hive Fleet’s modus operandi is to send increasingly frequent—and increasingly large—patrols ahead of the main body in order to prepare the region, and the fleet, for the inevitable encounter. It is only by monitoring this behavior that a Star System can recognize, and respond to, an impending Bug attack.

  By killing off every incoming Bug expeditionary force before they reached the Tracto System proper, Admiral Montagne had essentially blinded the Pirate Lord in control of Tracto to the threat of the Hive Fleet’s pending arrival. And when the Bugs had descended on Tracto, they had done so with a vengeance of apocalyptic proportions.

  For the price of one Heavy Cruiser, Admiral Montagne had wielded the awesome power of a Bug Hive Fleet with a surgeon’s precision, gaining total victory over his adversary in a single battle. In Middleton’s view, the Battle for Tracto would go down as one of the finest displays of military tactics in the history of the Spineward Sectors…and Tim Middleton hadn’t been there to participate in it.

  Admiral Montagne had dressed Middleton down over his extended patrol, and had made clear his displeasure at the proverbial bee’s nest which the Pride of Prometheus had uncovered during that mission. Middleton knew he deserved the reaction he had received from his superior officer and, frankly, he knew it could have been much worse. The Admiral had threatened to strip Middleton’s command, which Middleton could understand—and even agree with, to a point. Even when Admiral Montagne had all but declared he was stripping the Pride of Prometheus of any and all experienced officers, again, Middleton could understand and thereby keep his emotions more or less in check.

  But none of that angered Tim Middleton as much as the fact that he had missed out on one of the greatest battles the Spineward Sectors had ever seen. And, only adding insult to injury, it seemed that his new mission would similarly preclude him from participating in any future battles of such scale and import.

  “Assemble the crew, XO,” Middleton said as the lift doors opened and they moved toward the shuttle bay. “Some changes are coming and the Pride needs to be made ready for them.”

  Prologue II: Sleeping Dragon Ridge

  The sounds of water cascading gently over rounded rocks filled the room, and the chirping of birds could just be heard if one was to focus hard enough. The windblown rustling of leaves joined the auditory scene, and for a perfect moment the soundscape reached a crescendo which should have made any sane person weep.

  But Fei Long had learned many years earlier that whatever ‘sanity’ might have been, it was something which would be denied him for all his days. Still, the soundscape moved him deeply as his fingers tensed in preparation for the opening notes he would pluck from the zither.

  He waited for the sound of the water clock in the recorded soundscape, and when it made its hollow striking sound, he began to play the song he had always wanted to play with his own hands. He did not know the name of its composer, but he did know the name ever since hearing it as a child. He had never forgotten its deliberately mellow, almost tragic, tune.

  Memories flooded his thoughts as he played and he found it difficult to keep time amid the unexpected imagery. Just as he thought he had managed to wrest control of his emotions, the chime at his door sounded and his rhythm was broken.

  “Enter,” he called out in Confederation Standard as he placed the zither on the floor. Forge Master Haldis had been kind enough to essentially build the instrument for him as a way to thank Fei Long for securing the Storm Drake hide. The fashioning of that armor was bound to gain some measure of honor for the one-handed Tracto-an, and Fei Long had been pleasantly surprised by the Forge Master’s gesture and the quality of his work. The zither was far from perfect, but the sounds it produced were accurate and Fei Long had always wanted to practice with the traditional instrument of his Ancestors.

  The door slid open and Lu Bu entered, wiping sweat from her brow as she did so. Fei Long was once again taken by the sight of her; he was a sixteen year old man approaching his seventeenth birthday, so he knew that his hormones played a powerful part in his train of thought at times, but when he saw Lu Bu he didn’t just see a woman with admirable physical qualities.

  And those qualities were impressive in their own right. She stood at five feet ten inches, which was almost exactly the same as Fei Long. But that was where the physical similarities between the two ended; Fei Long scarcely weighed one hundred ten pounds soaking wet, but Lu Bu likely weighed twice that—he had never asked for a precise measurement because he had been led to believe this would be inadvisable—and the difference was entirely muscle and bone.

  Her frame was as broad as some of the Tracto-ans who served as the Pride of Prometheus’ Lancers, but most of them stood nearly a foot taller than Lu Bu. Her legs were thick and bulged with musculature which, like everything else about her physique, had been designed in a laboratory back on their native planet, a planet called Shèhuì Héxié. Her genetically engineered musculature provided far more power-to-weight than even the Tracto-ans could boast—which was, frankly, amazing.

  “You finished early?” Fei Long asked in their native tongue as he awkwardly moved across the room to where he kept his dry towels. The one Lu Bu held was already saturated, so he handed her a dry one.

  Lu Bu nodded curtly as she accepted the towel. “Sergeant Gnuko ended our drills early,” she explained as she wiped her hair, which was soaked from root to tip with sweat. She kept that hair braided tightly most of the time, but Fei Long had seen just how long it was when she let it down. He winced absently as he rubbed his left arm where she had slugged him when he had suggested she wear her hair down more often. “The drills were cut short because Captain Middleton has called a general assembly of the crew,” she continued before giving him a hard look, “that includes you—you did not receive my call?”

  Fei Long nodded slowly, realizing he had deactivated his com-links so as to focus on his budding zither play. “I desired silence,” he replied easily as he retrieved a container of water, which he handed to her.

  She shot him a harsh look. “You want me to leave?” she demanded.

  He shook his head, holding back a sigh. “I am glad for your presence,” he said as smoothly as he could. Then he decided it would be best to change the subject, “Do you know the assembly’s purpose?”

  Lu Bu shook her head as she guzzled down nearly the entire container of water—a container which provided a whole day’s worth of hydration for Fei Long—and wiped her mouth as nearly a mouthful of water ran down her chest. Fei Long had difficulty averting his eyes as the water did so, but he thankfully managed to avoid ogling her before she met his gaze, “It is for the entire crew; that is all I know.”

  “When is it scheduled?” Fei Long asked as he moved to the bench which had been installed per his specifications into the officer’s quarters. Captain Middleton had been supportive of Fei Long’s desire to construct a suitable work environment for himself, and had given him appointments which would make all but a handful of people on the Pride of Prometheus
purple with jealousy.

  He carefully began to stow a small pile of mechanical and electronic components which he had been tinkering with. The idea for the project had come to him during the examination of one of the droid soldiers which Lu Bu—along with Sergeant Gnuko and the late Lancer, Peleus—had dispatched during a boarding action several weeks earlier. If his experiments yielded the fruits he expected them to, he could provide the Pride of Prometheus with a potent weapon to add to its arsenal.

  “Forty minutes from now,” Lu Bu replied, setting the container of water down beside the bed and moving to Fei Long’s side. “What is this…project?” she asked, picking up a micro servo and eyeing it warily.

  Fei Long gently plucked the tiny apparatus from her thick, powerful fingers and gave her a significant look as he placed it into the case with the rest of the components. “I am attempting to design, and eventually produce, an,” he switched to Confederation Standard, “Autonomous, Trans-locational, Tactically-Adaptive Chassis Kilogram with Distributed, Organized, Goal-based programming.”

  He couldn’t help but smirk in satisfaction, but Lu Bu shrugged her shoulders. “A big name for such a small thing,” she quipped, giving him a meaningful look.

  “Hey,” he protested, nearly dropping a miniature anti-grav unit as he spun to face her, “you said you did not wish to discuss what happened in the airlock!”

  She snorted derisively. “Are you embarrassed? You should be,” she said, folding her arms across her broad, muscular chest, “I have eaten sandwiches which lasted longer than you did—and I eat quickly.”

  Fei Long took an angry step forward and quickly found himself nose-to-nose with the larger, more powerful, clearly unimpressed girl. He hesitated briefly before saying, “I just need practice….besides, you happen to be a very attractive woman.”