No Middle Ground (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride) Read Online Free Page A

over dangerous equipment like weapons, and it was possibly a punishable offense for a Captain to do so—even temporarily. Normally the solutions were populated by the computer and then the gunners would verify the readings with their own targeting computers which were completely independent from the ship’s computer networks.
    “Sarkozi,” Middleton nodded decisively, “slave fire control to the Sensors and set the solution parameters yourself. Each battery should offset their fire interval by ten microseconds from each other, firing in a clockwise sequence; the first laser will clear a hole through the ice ring debris to provide a clear shot for the second. We’re only going to get a couple shots before that corvette’s out of range, so we need to make each one count.”
    “Yes, sir,” she acknowledged curtly.
    “Helm,” the Captain continued as he forwarded another set of instructions to the helmsman, “re-orient the ship; I want our bow facing that corvette while they make for the ring break, but I don’t want to change our current trajectory. I also want axial rotation precisely as indicated—can you be that exact?”
    “Aye, Captain,” Jersey replied tersely, but even the man’s sour disposition did little to deflate Middleton’s buoyant mood. Seconds later the view screen tilted upward, showing the gas giant’s incredible ring system as the bow of the ship rose gently to face it. He knew the rate of rotation he had ordered would be too slow to observe with the naked eye, but Middleton still disliked being in less than total control of the situation so he checked his instruments to verify the Pride’s axial rotation.
    The density of the rings around the gas giant was unlike anything Middleton had ever encountered, or even read about, and it was that density which created a shield that would protect them from any beam weapon except the most powerful versions—like the Pride ’s own heavy lasers, or the Starfire missiles on the corvette.
    The sensor distortions caused by the mineral content of the rings were also tactically problematic. The Pride ’s sensors were likely no better than those of the pirate, but the advantage they had while the rings were interposed between the two vessels was that the Pride ’s heavy laser array could recharge and fire again, even if they missed. The pirate’s Starfire missiles, on the other hand, were only good for a single attack so the corvette’s captain couldn’t afford to waste them on a low-percentage shot through the rings—especially at their present angle, which multiplied the amount of debris between ships many, many times the median thickness of the rings.
    “Comm.,” Middleton spun his chair after a minute’s silence to face the Comm. stander, “status on the primary transmitter?”
    “It’s still down, Captain,” the stander reported promptly. “Engineering reports the repairs will require at least thirty minutes to complete.”
    Before Middleton could respond to the Chief Engineer’s obviously sandbagged estimate, the forward array of the Pride of Prometheus erupted unexpectedly as all ten of her heavy lasers bored into the ice rings. “Beams away,” Sarkozi reported belatedly as she bent down to read the incoming telemetry and nodded satisfactorily, “reading three direct hits, Captain. Enemy shields are holding; adjusting battery timing to eight point seven microseconds for the next pass.”
    “Good work, Tactical; Helm,” Middleton replied as he flipped through the ship-wide status reports. This was all much simpler as a Tactical Officer, he thought half-grudgingly as he checked the departmental status reports. “Inform Chief Garibaldi that we need that transmitter online in no more than twenty two minutes,” he said after reviewing the ship’s status. Not a single casualty to this point , he thought with silent relief. Murphy willing, we might make it through this unscathed.
    A few minutes later the forward array fired another