No Middle Ground (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride) (40 page)

Just as the play reached five seconds, Atticus grabbed the ball with both hands and clutched it to his belly while lowering his shoulder into the onrushing Lu Bu. But she ignored his incoming torso and unleashed a vicious, right-handed uppercut at the ball with everything she had.

The impacts of his shoulder to her chin, and her hand to the ball, were simultaneous and her vision blacked out as she felt her body topple backward onto the grass. But her ears were filled with the low-pitch thrum of the ball’s grav-amplifier activating and she knew she had done her job.  She heard a groan, followed by a thump as a massive body hit the grass.

Staggering to her feet as quickly as she was able—and before her vision had even returned—she shook the cobwebs from her mind in order to try and gain sight the massive Tracto-an.

When she saw him, she felt a thrill of savage satisfaction at seeing him rolling on the ground and clutching his stomach—fully four meters from their point of impact.

“Fourth down, coming up,” Joneson barked as he gestured for his team to huddle. It took two of Gnuko’s teammates to help the massive Atticus back to his feet, and when he finally regained his breath he shot Lu Bu an enraged look before bellowing wordlessly at the clouds and rejoining his own teammates.

Lu Bu walked stiffly back to her team’s huddle, stretching her neck as she did so. That Atticus felt like he was carved out of stone and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure whose body would give out first—hers, or her opponents.

“Take a knee and a breath, Lu,” Joneson said, and her teammates murmured their agreement. “That was a beautiful smash; sit this play out if you need to.”

Lu Bu shook her head adamantly. “This one is fine,” she replied stiffly as her vision finally cleared.

Joneson nodded approvingly. “All right, this play’s anyone’s guess but I’d wager Atticus’s after some payback after getting his bell rung. Gnuko and I made a gentleman’s agreement to go for it on all fourths, so we’re going to run our base, cover three, press-man defense. Lu, I want you at centerbacker for this one on a read-and-react; the rest of the front will close the gaps without shooting through.”

The teams lined up against each other, and when Lu Bu made eye contact with Atticus, she returned his look of unadulterated hatred with a smirk as she fell back a few steps from the line.

“Hike!” Gnuko quick-counted, and the move gave his offensive linemen just enough of a jump that they drove forward and outward, using brute strength to create a gap large enough for an armored Lancer to charge through.

Atticus accepted the ball from Gnuko as he tore into the hole and cradled the ball while bearing down on Lu Bu with murder in his eyes as he cocked his free, right hand in preparation for a running, overhand right aimed at her helmeted skull.

But Lu Bu had expected as much, and she backpedaled a pair of steps so as to upset the timing of his incoming blow. When he unexpectedly juked to the left, rather than continue barreling toward her, she allowed her reflexes to take over and leapt forward to slam into his body with her own as she clamped her arms to either side of his chest. She received his charge by planting her feet in the grass and bracing herself like never before.

The Tracto-an’s bulk slammed into her and actually drove her backward across the grass a half meter, but she remained upright and somehow managed to keep her feet under herself until her cleats re-gained purchase in the sod moist. For a brief instant, the two of them stood in a virtual stalemate as he expended the last of his body’s forward momentum, at which point Lu Bu ducked and grabbed a double-leg takedown—which she then used to slam the massive man onto his back.

“Play’s dead!” Joneson barked as Atticus threw the ball away and reached down to grab Lu Bu by the neck. Caught up in the moment, Lu Bu spun to the side and threw a pair of sharp, devastating knees at the Tracto-an’s flank as he clamped his massive arms around her neck and began to squeeze.

The scuffle was broken up almost immediately by the teams’ respective captains, and for a brief moment both teams looked as though they were about to come to blows.

“Joneson has the ball,” Gnuko snapped in genuine frustration. “Huddle up, Gnuko!”

Atticus leveled a finger at Lu Bu and then made a short, slashing gesture across his own throat. She tilted her head defiantly and bared her teeth in a vicious snarl at the taller Lancer and held his gaze until he finally turned his back and returned to his team’s huddle.

When Lu Bu returned to her own huddle, she saw a knowing grin on her Sergeant’s face. “Nicely done, Lu; you’re under his skin now. Let’s take advantage and send this first play to the house. Three wide-outs, single-back formation; play’s a jet fly-sweep right to left with Lu on the rock.”

This was Lu Bu’s signature play, and she suspected that Walter Joneson had been waiting to see it in action ever since receiving her ‘resume’ in the form of a game highlight from her latest—and, perhaps, last—season of smashball.

“This one will score,” she said confidently, and without a single ounce of bravado. She had literally never failed to score any of the six times she had run this particular play, and saw no reason for that streak to be broken now.

They lined up near mid-field and Lu was the wide-out to the right. Sergeant Joneson sent her in motion with a tap of his right foot, and she moved from right to left—noting that Atticus, lined up as Gnuko’s deathbacker, went in motion with her from the middle of the secondary.

Joneson snapped the ball just before she entered the pocket, and Lu Bu received the ball into the crook of her arm as she bolted forward.  The burst of speed felt so familiar, and so practiced, that she almost seemed to be floating a centimeter above the ground as her legs churned beneath her.

She cut through a hole created by Thomas on the left side and hurdled the right-backer, Brasidas, as he attempted to intercept her near the line of scrimmage. At two seconds into the play, the ball began to gain weight as the gravity generator at its center slowly cycled up, but she was well-practiced at handling a smashball.

Peleus, playing center-backer, sprinted toward her and made a play at her mid-section by trying to dive at her. She saw from the corner of her eye that Atticus had yet to break toward her, which actually saw a smile flash on her lips as she gripped the ball in both hands and smashed Peleus’ forearm with it.

The impact was obviously more than Peleus had expected, and he staggered forward as his arm was forced to the ground by the immediate expulsion of the smashball’s accumulated gravitic energy—which, she knew from experience, had been roughly similar to a sledgehammer’s impact for this particular blow.

Easily sidestepping the falling Tracto-an, she saw Atticus snarl and break toward her. The benefit of shedding the smashball’s energy against Peleus was that it returned the ball to its original weight, thereby increasing her maneuverability and speed—the bad news was that it would require several seconds before it could be used as a proper weapon again. Until then, it was nothing but a liability which she was forced to protect en route to the score.

Atticus bore down on her as she drove straight at him, expecting the other man to lunge greedily and create an opening to one side or the other. But, surprisingly, he held up at the last instant and forced her to lower her shoulder in an attempt to knock him off-balance and slip by after contact.

Her shoulder met his chest, and his arms clamped down on her torso like an iron spring-trap.  She fought the best she could, but was unable to extricate herself from his long, powerful arms before he dragged her to the ground. She was completely flabbergasted at his uncharacteristically selfless move, and narrowed her eyes as she stood and made her way back to the huddle.

After the team had reached the huddle she took another incredulous look over her shoulder at Atticus, whose demeanor was clearly no less furious than her own.  “Looks like we’re in for a game, after all,” Joneson said with a tight smile.

The game concluded at a score of 32 Joneson, 21 Gnuko. The teams were evenly matched when Joneson had the ball, but when Gnuko had the ball Team Joneson managed to force three turnovers—two of which Lu Bu returned for the score. After doffing their armored ‘pads,’ the Lancer contingent shook hands at the base of the shuttle’s ramp.

“Good game,” Lu Bu congratulated the second-to-last Lancer from Team Gnuko. For the first time in months feeling the oddly reassuring aches and pains with which she had become so familiar during her brief smashball career.

Then Atticus stepped in front of her and literally blocked the sunlight from reaching her face, and she looked up at him with a hard expression and thrust her hand out.

“Good game,” she said evenly.

Atticus looked down at her hand pointedly and nodded. “Good game,” he said gruffly as he accepted her hand briefly before boarding the shuttle.

“All right, back to the barn,” Joneson barked, gesturing for his Lancers to board the shuttle. When everyone was seated, the pilot initiated takeoff procedures, and a few minutes later they were airborne and en route to the
Pride of Prometheus
.

The Lancers stretched and groaned between retelling each other their individual experiences of the game for several minutes, but the Tracto-ans remained silent.

“Ok,” Sergeant Joneson said, standing from his seat and sweeping the cabin with his eyes, “time for the after-action. First, a question for the Tracto-ans.”

At this, Atticus and the others looked up with neutral expressions.

“What is the object of the game?” Joneson asked, and Lu Bu had actually heard this particular question from a coach before, and suspected she knew the direction of the lesson.

“To drive the ball to the scoring zone,” Atticus replied shortly.

“Correct,” Joneson replied with a nod. “So what is the primary target to be attacked?”

“The scoring zone,” the Tracto-an replied through gritted teeth, as though he were answering questions which were beneath him.

“Wrong,” Joneson said sharply before calling over his shoulder, “Lu Bu, what is the target to be attacked?”

“The ball, Sergeant Joneson,” she replied with absolute certainty.

“Correct,” he said while keeping his gaze fixed on the largest of the Tracto-ans. “When a team holds the ball, their goal is already known by the other side. Therefore, the ‘offense’ is at an inherent intelligence disadvantage, since their objective is known by everyone observing the contest.”

A look a realization came over the Tracto-an’s faces, but they quickly cleared their expressions.

Joneson nodded in satisfaction before continuing, “One long-held military theory states that conflict variables can be placed into three groups: force strength, terrain, and intelligence. These can then further be broken down into two sub-groups each: total available assets, and the preparation of those assets; conditions which hinder a given force’s resources, or those which augment that force’s resources; and lastly, deception and knowledge.”

“The Six Pillars of warfare,” Atticus said almost absently.

“Correct,” Joneson nodded, “on your world that is what these factors are called. Assuming the variables at the outset of engagement are equal on both sides, how many of these variables must the typical force gain superiority in before victory can be expected?”

Silence filled the shuttle, and Lu Bu knew that most of the Sergeant’s men had already received this particular lecture. She, herself, had read a very similar dissertation which was widely-disseminated on her home world, having been penned back on Ancient Earth by one of the Ancestors.

When he received no reply, Joneson called over his shoulder, “Lu, you’re not much newer to the group than the Tracto-ans; how many variables must the typical force gain superiority in, in order to expect victory?”

“One, Sergeant Joneson,” she replied promptly.

“Which one?” he pressed.

“A significant advantage in either of the last two will assure victory in any circumstance,” Lu Bu said confidently. “A single arrow can defeat an army if it slays the general, and one false report can lead an otherwise superior force into a decisive ambush.”

“Well said,” Joneson replied with an approving nod. “This is why, despite having superior physical talent and dead even terrain, Team Gnuko lost today: the object of the game was unclear, so Team Joneson possessed an intelligence advantage,” he said, casting a look to the Corporal.

Gnuko was nursing a sprained ankle as he stood with a tight grip on a nearby cargo strap, but it quickly became apparent to Lu Bu that the Tracto-ans had not been the only students which Sergeant Joneson had been lecturing out on the field.

“The rest of this week will be spent on light duty,” Joneson added, “but I expect each member of this unit to review Captain Middleton’s after-action reports on the naval battles which took place this past week. He knows combat strategy and tactics better than anyone here, and we’re lucky to serve under a man like him.”

While Corporal Gnuko appeared to have learned the lesson and was nodding silently to himself, the Tracto-ans looked skeptical but they, too, remained silent.

“Probably goes without saying, but the game ball goes to Lu Bu,” Joneson said, flipping the ball to her before taking his own seat and strapping in. She took the ball and cradled it in her lap, noting approving looks on the faces of her fellow Lancers—including grudging nods from the four, still-silent, Tracto-ans.

Chapter XXXIII: An Unexpected Guest

“We can’t thank you enough, Captain Manning,” Middleton said after eight days at dock, taking advantage of a first-class repair facility and top-shelf components. “Please relay our appreciation to your father when next you see him.”

The younger Captain Manning’s visage on the bridge’s main viewer was covered in grease and sweat, but he was all smiles as he made a quick, two-finger salute. “It’s me that should be thanking you, Captain Middleton; without you my ship would have been taken and what was left of me would probably have burned up on re-entry by now after being spaced by those blighters. You ever find yourself in our neck of the woods again, look me up and we could have an Elysium SDF vs. MSP game of smashball; I hear you’ve got quite the roster over there.”