No Middle Ground (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride) (25 page)

Such a man would naturally be arrogant, but the utterly fantastic lack of regard for those around and beneath him was something she had not expected to learn of her namesake. She was so appalled that she had considered abandoning the name of Lu Bu entirely, but she had come to realize that in some ways, she shared this man’s flaws. So she made up her mind to keep the name to remind her of the many dangers associated with unchecked arrogance.

She entered the sickbay with these thoughts filling her head and saw Doctor Middleton conversing with the bald, elderly man who had shared her first shuttle ride to the
Pride of Prometheus
. She was mistrustful of the man based on nothing but intuition.

Doctor Middleton saw Lu Bu enter and gestured for her to approach as she finished her conversation with the older man, who was also a doctor, judging by his lab coat and insignia.

“I assume you’re looking for your medical clearance?” Doctor Middleton asked with a hint of a smile.

Lu Bu nodded. “I must return to duties as quickly as possible; I have fallen behind other recruits.”

The doctor took out a portable imaging wand of some kind and pointed to a nearby cot with it, which Lu Bu sat down on eagerly.

As Doctor Middleton waved the device slowly over Lu Bu’s shoulder, the younger woman could tell there was something troubling her, so Lu Bu asked, “What is wrong, Doctor?”

“It’s nothing, Bu,” she replied dismissively, but her expression said otherwise.

“You have helped
me
,” she said, still finding the last word difficult to utter, “I cannot repay you, but would if possible.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Bu,” the doctor said testily before sighing. “I guess it’s best if you heard it from me first.”

“What?” Lu Bu asked, her brow furrowing with confusion.

The doctor finished scanning Lu Bu’s shoulder, but she hesitated before finally saying, “I’m not going to be on this ship much longer.”

Lu Bu felt her heart sink like it had never done before. “Why?” she asked, feeling her stomach churning and her heartbeats quickening in her chest.

“It’s hard to explain, Bu,” she replied in what Lu Bu took to be a patronizing tone.

“Doctor does not like military, but you do good here,” the young woman said pleadingly. “Crew say many would die from virus without Doctor Middleton.”

“That’s just my job, Bu,” Doctor Middleton replied with a shake of her head, “but I can’t stay on this ship any longer. I’ve got to look for a fresh start to my own life, and it can’t be here.”

“If Doctor Middleton not find own life in so many years, perhaps she is looking in wrong place,” Lu Bu said, desperate to find some way to make this woman stay. Doctor Middleton had been the only person she could consider a friend in her entire life; the thought that she would leave now was completely unbearable!

The doctor laughed lightly. “Are you jabbing me about my age?”

“Do not change subject,” Lu Bu scowled. “You have home here; all crew respect you. No,” she corrected herself as she felt tears welling in her eyes, “they
appreciate
you. This is not insignificant, Doctor Middleton…my own life teaches me this.”

The doctor actually looked taken aback by that, so Lu Bu decided to end on a strong note, seeing as she considered herself lucky to even make one compelling point between her general lack of persuasiveness and her still-terrible Confederation Standard. “If Doctor Middleton leaves,” she said stiffly, “Lu Bu will understand. Ship crew will understand. All will move on…but Doctor Middleton will regret her choice.”

The doctor’s eyes hardened as she regarded the younger woman for several seconds before taking out a data slate and making some notes. “You are cleared for duty, Recruit Lu,” she said officially.

“Thank you,” Lu Bu said, hesitating briefly before making her respects in the traditional way of her people. Bowing her head behind clasped hands, she held the pose for several seconds before turning on her heel and leaving the sickbay without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

She felt so furious that she could have screamed, and had there not been a trio of crewmembers not far in front of her she very well may have. Her fists balled unconsciously at her sides as she made her way to the rec room which the Lancer recruits had used for training.

It seemed she was destined to be alone; no one wanted to get too attached to one of her kind, and really, she could not blame them. She
was
different, in more ways than just those which could be seen, and the closer people got to her the shorter her interactions with them became.

But she was good at one thing: survival. Growing up in her family’s underground compound, where they had installed special grav-plates to simulate the maximum gravity forces her genetically engineered body could withstand, day-to-day activities were turned into rigorous exercises in physical and mental toughness. She had learned about her own weaknesses in that horrible place, and had it not been for a surprise raid by her world’s government, she might still be there.

So she knew she would survive Doctor Middleton’s absence…but she also knew it would take a small piece of her she had not expected was even there. And that, more than anything, was what made her vision narrow as she entered the rec room with plenty of pent-up frustration to shed.

Lu Bu was halfway across the room before she realized there was no one else present—worse, all of the exercise equipment had been removed. She looked around in confused irritation before shrieking wordlessly at the ceiling in frustration. She needed to vent this anger that was bottled up inside her or it felt like it might actually burst something in her chest.

“Training’s over,” she heard a voice call from the doorway, and she whirled to see Sergeant Walter Joneson standing there, blocking the doorway with his broad, powerful body, “and you missed the cut.” Everything seemed to freeze for a moment as his words replayed themselves in her mind. Her eyes widened in a mixture of shock and disbelief as he continued, “I’ve put in a word with the Chief Gunner and he says he’ll take you on at least for now, so pack your things and clear out.”

“Impossible,” she fumed, breathing hot, fiery blasts of air through her nostrils. “I am twice any other recruit!”

“Not in my book,” he said shortly as he took a few steps into the empty room toward her. “You’re a loose cannon, Lu, and the last thing I need is to be uncertain you’ll follow orders when things get hairy.”

He was standing just a few feet in front of her, and the temptation to lash out at him was as powerful as she could ever remember, and she dug her fingernails into her palms in an attempt to control herself. “Sergeant Joneson ordered me to sickbay,” she protested as evenly as she could manage, “Doctor Middleton clears me only now; I am ready to train!”

“There’s your problem,” Joneson said, folding his arms across his chest, “you just don’t listen. Everything’s about you, isn’t it?” He shook his head piteously, “You think because you’re gifted, or because had it rough growing up, that you’re entitled to special treatment? Every member of my team has his or her own baggage, and each of them knows when to follow orders or when to take the initiative—a capacity you clearly lack!” he snapped.

She stood there in silent outrage as she felt blood trickle down her knuckles and drip onto the deck plates at her feet while tears began to trickle down her cheeks. But as much as she wanted to tear his head off like some kind of wild animal might do, she knew he was right: she had always had issues following rules, or controlling her temper, and it seemed like that particular failing would prevent her from pursuing the only dream she could ever remember truly caring about.

She saw something in his expression that she did not recognize just before he said, “Blasted genies.”

A strange sensation washed over her, and as he turned to leave the room she felt what was certain to be the last tear she would ever shed roll off her cheek. Walter Joneson, one of her true idols growing up, had just disrespected her using the most hurtful term in existence. “What…did you call…me?” she hissed.

He stopped just short of the door and turned to face her, and when he did she took a step toward him with her fists balled at her sides. “You heard me,” he said, matching her step and then taking another, “your kind isn’t worth the test tubes you slithered out of.”

She shook her head slowly as her body briefly went numb. “You reject me,” she said, taking a step toward him, “this I can accept. You despise me,” she said with another step, “this I must expect. But you will
not
,” she said emphatically, “disrespect me!”

“And what are you going to do about it, little girl?” he growled as he leaned forward fractionally.

“Team needs respect,” she said through gritted teeth, “and this, I will teach you!”

She lashed out with her left hand, her fingers extended toward his throat in an attempt to put him down with the first blow. But he parried her attack with a downward block of his forearm before sweeping at her legs with his right leg.

She turned her right knee down at the last instant, intercepting his shin and checking the kick perfectly. To his credit, he kept his balance after their legs clashed with enough force to put any ordinary human down—or in traction—but she pressed the attack with a quick, double-jab aimed squarely at his nose as she circled to his left.

His height would normally have made such an attack futile, but he had leaned into his leg kick, which brought his chin into striking range. Her fist smashed into his broad, flat nose with both strikes, but he threw a crisp, right hook which caught her on the side of the head with incredible force.

She staggered slightly before rushing toward him as she saw him prepare to kick her in the head with his left leg. She trapped the leg mid-kick and drove into him with every ounce of genetically engineered strength she had in an attempt to push him to the ground.

But while she managed to secure the leg, he deftly widened his stance and danced away from her as they drove across the room for eight, hopping steps before she finally smashed him into the bulkhead. The impact knocked enough air out of his lungs that she heard him wheeze slightly, which only spurred her on as she attempted to clasp her hands behind his back in preparation for a chest-to-chest suplex.

But he pummeled his right arm between hers and his torso, and while she knew she had raw power on him, his long limbs gave him leverage which made the contest dead even. She counter-pummeled and switched directions, attempting to attack the other side of his body while she still had him pressed up against the wall—a position she knew would be difficult to achieve a second time.

He unexpectedly turned and presented his back while snaking his arms around her right arm. She tried to clasp her hands to prevent the classic joint lock known as a ‘kimura,’ but he managed to create enough space that her arms were unable to reach each other around his massive girth. The second he grasped his own forearm and began to apply pressure, she did the only thing she could do: she pulled him backward with a quick, powerful burst that saw his feet leave the deck momentarily before he landed on top of her.

A scramble ensued and pushing off the wall with her left leg, she flailed blindly with her free, left hand in an attempt to clasp her right—which was dangerously close to being pried away and twisted with enough force that she was certain she would be visiting the doctor again if he succeeded.

But the Ancestors were watching over her, as her fingers found each other and she gripped her hands together as tightly as she could to prevent him from breaking her arm. They struggled for a few seconds before he abandoned the joint lock and broke her grip by levering his head against her neck and driving his hips forward.

After the brief bit of grappling with him, she was surprised to learn that she was actually stronger than him—but strength only counted for so much in a fight, where skilled leverage becomes far more important than raw power.

She pulled back a pair of steps as he did likewise, and all she could feel was hot, burning rage, but she kept her focus as she knew she still had a job to do. With the Ancestors as her witness, she would teach this man the price of disrespecting her!

“There you are,” he growled with what sounded to her like amusement as he lowered his stance, “good of you to finally show up.”

Screaming wordlessly, she charged him headlong and made as if to deliver a vicious leg kick of her own. He moved to check her kick precisely as she had done to his at the outset—but she had expected him to do as much. In a long-practiced move, she switched her weight over her hips and leapt into the air with her knee aimed at his throat.

He tucked his chin and moved his hands to block at the last instant, but was unable to prevent her blow from landing as her knee smashed into his chin. His head wobbled sideways and she heard something break in his mouth, but he kept his eyes on her as he grabbed her leg before she could bring her foot back to the ground.

The massive Sergeant clutched her knee with one arm, reached up to her neck with the other, and in a fluid motion which was as much a display of balance as it was of power, he pivoted and smashed her back into the nearby wall. She saw stars, and for a moment lost sensation throughout her body. As soon as she was able to do so she clawed, kicked, thrashed and fought with everything she had to escape his grip.

“That’s enough, Lancer!” she heard him say in a voice that pierced the fog of rage which had come over her. She forcibly relaxed her body, and realized she was lying on the floor once her vision returned to her—and that the Sergeant was kneeling on her neck. After she had ceased her struggles, he removed his knee from her neck, stood deliberately and looked down at her for several seconds before offering his hand.

Uncertain whether or not she should accept it, she glared at his proffered hand for a few moments in silence.

“No grudges,” he said in a dire tone as he spat a pair of teeth onto the deck, “that’s going to be rule number one for you.”