In the Presence of My Enemies

by Stephen A. Fender

  “Trouble in paradise?” he asked.

  “Meaning what, exactly?” Melissa replied sharply.

  “Seemed like you two were getting along so well a little while ago. Don’t tell me you’ve come to an impasse already.”

  “If you’re implying that I’ve done anything outside the scope of my responsibility, then you’re sorely mistaken, Commander.”

  “You only call me Commander when you’re very upset about something,” he said with understanding, then smirked. “Or when you’re feeling very mischievous.”

  “Don’t make me kill you.”

  She was definitely upset about something, and Shawn decided caution was well warranted. “Do you want to tell me what did happen?”

  “During our tour of the ship, the ambassador made some … offhanded comments about the OSI,” she huffed.

  “Meaning?”

  Melissa tried to dismiss the words with a slight wave of her hand. “Oh, nothing serious or treaty-dissolving. He just has a certain opinion about the way the intelligence community is run, some of which I agree with, and others I don’t.”

  “And that aggravates you?”

  “Considering how much you aggravate me at times, having a disagreement with a Unified diplomat is only a minor annoyance.”

  “As much as I’d love to discuss that with you further, we’ve got a situation upstairs,” Shawn said, jerking his thumb toward the cockpit door.

  Her interest sufficiently piqued to forget her frustrations, Melissa’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve picked up a minor energy reading on the scanners.”

  “From the jump gate?”

  “No,” he said in a more subdued tone. “This is something else.”

  It was rare for her to see Shawn worried about anything, and his uneasiness alarmed her. “And we’re going to investigate?”

  Shawn sighed, then cast a quick glance toward McDermott, who was intently staring at a small computer screen. “That’s not my call to make.”

  It was at that moment that Ambassador McDermott—for whatever reason—decided to look in Shawn’s direction.

  “Yes, Commander?” he asked from across the small compartment.

  Not wanting to panic the other members of the team—not that they were currently paying him any attention—Shawn jerked his head in the direction of the rear door leading to the crew berthing area. A moment later, when the door had firmly shut behind the ambassador, Shawn finally spoke up. “We’ve got an energy signature on the short-range sensors.”

  “What kind of signature?” McDermott asked.

  “I’m not entirely sure. It’s very faint.”

  “It couldn’t possibly be a life-form, could it?” McDermott asked without hesitation.

  “It’s highly doubtful.”

  “But, it could be?”

  Shawn could already see where this was going, and tried to steer the conversation away from its inevitable outcome. “It could be almost anything. I don’t think we should worry about—”

  “As representatives of the Unified Collaboration of Systems, we’re duty-bound to help anyone in distress, Commander. I’m sure you are aware of the regulations regarding—”

  Shawn stopped the ambassador with an upturned hand. “I’m very aware, Ambassador. However, as I said, I don’t think it’s anything we should concern ourselves with. We’re already pushing our luck with all the debris in the area. I highly suggest—”

  “You will change course immediately to investigate, Commander.”

  “With all due respect, Ambassador, I think we should try and raise the Rhea before we do anything rash,” Shawn said. “The gate is only a few minutes from here, and we can use it to get the authority to—”

  McDermott’s chest heaved out. “I am the authority here, Commander.”

  “Ambassador,” Melissa quietly inserted into the conversation, “the commander is right, and I’ve learned to trust his judgment on these matters. This is a little too risky, given our orders to proceed to Rugor, and considering our timetables on the matter. This is too dangerous.”

  McDermott shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with both of you. That could be a Unified citizen out there who needs help.”

  “We’re a long way from Kansas, Dorothy,” Shawn quipped.

  “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means we are far removed from Unified space. Anyone who’s foolish enough to come out here alone would have to be half-cocked.”

  “We’re out here, Commander, in case you’ve forgotten.” McDermott seemed exceedingly satisfied with his comment, and Shawn wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face. “Besides,” the ambassador continued, “If it isn’t a Unified citizen, then it’s both my intention and my diplomatic duty to extend a hand to anyone out here who’s in trouble.”

  “Sector Command knows full well where we are and where we’re going,” Shawn said, addressing the first part of McDermott’s statement. “And, as I said, it’s very likely nothing. You’ll be risking the safety of the ship and the crew if we get any closer to that signal.”

  “You’re in charge of piloting the ship, Commander, meaning you are in charge of our safety. I don’t want to hear any more arguments on the matter. I’m in command of this mission. Now take us closer to the signal.”

  Shawn eyes turned toward Melissa, and the expression she wore told him he’d already lost this particular round to the ambassador. “It’s your funeral, Ambassador.”

  *

  “Move us in just a bit closer,” Shawn said softly.

  “If I get any closer we’ll be wearing that thing like a suit,” Trent grunted through clenched teeth.

  Back on the control deck, Shawn had slipped into the pilot’s seat beside Trent, who up to this point had been doing an admirable job of piloting Sylvia’s Delight through the debris of the battlefield. As the ship neared the mysterious signal’s origin, Shawn thought it best to handle the more delicate maneuvers himself.

  “All right, I’ll take over from here. Besides, you’ll need to be down in the engine room when something goes wrong.”

  “You mean if something goes wrong, right?”

  “No.”

  Letting out a nervous sigh, Trent moved out of the copilot’s seat and toward the rear door. As it opened, he and Melissa slipped past one another in the small doorway.

  “Just like old times?” she jested.

  “God, I hope not,” Trent groaned without giving her a second glance.

  When the doors had closed, Melissa slipped into the now-vacant seat beside Shawn. “What was that all about?”

  “It’s just Trent. You know how he can be.”

  “Petulant?”

  “Well, space travel does have that effect on him.”

  Melissa nodded, then turned her attention outside the ship. Before them was the gutted remains of a Unified ship, with several more floating in a semicircle that the Mark-IV now found itself in the center of. The bow looked to have been wrenched free, and the appearance of the mangled stern gave every indication that the ship had suffered a partial jump drive meltdown at some point in her death throes.

  “This is where the signal is coming from?”

  Shawn nodded. “That’s it, all right. Looks like a light carrier.”

  “And the signal itself?”

  “Constant,” Shawn said, verifying the readings once more on the sensor. “Hasn’t fluctuated once since we locked on to it.” Reaching up, he indicated to one of the overhead monitors and the large spike being displayed on it.

  “Any ideas as to what it might be?”

  “It’s not natural, I can tell you that much.” Reaching for another control, Shawn flipped a series of switches. “Computer, are we close enough for a detailed scan of the hull?”

  “Affirmative, Captain,” the synthetic female voice replied soothingly. “However, latent radiation will cause a slight deviation in spectrographic analysis o
utput.”

  “That’s fine. Begin scan.”

  “Are you sure, hon?” the computer asked, seeming quite concerned about Shawn’s request. “It won’t be pretty.”

  Are you serious? Still with the “hon” crap? “Just do it.”

  Despite her anxiety, Melissa found herself chuckling. “You do have a way with computers, don’t you?”

  “Trent was supposed to wipe the memory a few days ago.”

  “Well, in his defense, we have been pretty busy out here, what with you getting promoted and me … I don’t know … being put in jail.”

  “You’re not going to let that one go, are you?”

  “Would you?” she asked, then thought better of it. “Forget I said anything.”

  “Done.”

  As the remains of the Unified vessel filled the forward window, Shawn’s eyes scanned the battered hull. He caught something just out of the corner of his eye, but his attention was drawn to the sensor screen when the computer’s voice crooned out to him. “Captain, there is a vessel attached to the hull of the carrier.”

  “Can you identify it?”

  “Vessel is classified as an Akturian salvage ship. Standard complement of three.”

  “Grave robbers,” Shawn said under his breath, disgusted at the thought of anyone desecrating the remains of the battlefield.

  “Dangerous?” Melissa asked.

  “The Akturians?” he snorted. “The only danger they pose is to themselves. I’ve never run into a more discombobulated species in my life. Every time I see one of their ships I’m amazed they ever collectively made it into space.” Shawn typed a series of commands into the computer, and was rewarded with a schematic of the salvage vessel. “Computer, are you getting any life readings?”

  “Negative, dear. However, there is sufficient organic material on board the other vessel to account for two bipedal standards.”

  “Bodies?” Melissa said, leaning close over Shawn’s shoulder to look at the readings herself.

  There was a strong scent of her jasmine perfume, and Shawn found it moderately distracting. “Probably.”

  The memory of her ordeal on board the Icarus surfaced in her mind, but she quickly pushed it aside. “Then we will need to investigate.”

  “Is that the ambassador talking, or the OSI?”

  Melissa turned her head, then kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Both, Commander.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I, Shawn, but we have our orders.” She ran her fingers under his chin. “Both of us.”

  Sighing in defeat, Shawn directed the scanners at the carrier. He was surprised to find one of the hangar bay doors gaping open. “Computer, is that area stable enough to land?”

  “Stress analysis indicates a sufficient amount of tensile strength remains for a secure landing. Activation of the magnetic landing system will be required.”

  “We’re going inside?” Melissa asked.

  Shawn understood her concern, and the fear that laced her question. “You said it yourself; we don’t have much of a choice. If the area is stable enough to land on, we’re not going to have an excuse to give to the ambassador.” He turned to her, their lips now inches apart. He took the opportunity to rapidly close the distance and kiss her lightly. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to remain on board this time?”

  “There were an enormous number of reasons why the UCS and the Kafarans’ Army of Light needed to form an alliance against the Meltranians, but I can sum them up in for you in two very simple statements. The first, a quote from Sun Tzu (544 Old Earth calendar BC), says, ‘the reason the enlightened prince and the wise general conquer the enemy whenever they move, and their achievements surpass those of ordinary men, is foreknowledge.’ The other proverb, whose origin fails me, is ‘never bring a gun to a knife fight.”

  —Admiral William Graves (Ret.),

  The Meltranian Invasion: A History of Galactic of Warfare, 2nd Edition

  Chapter 5

  Under Shawn Kestrel’s expert hands, and with Trent once again in the copilot’s seat for backup, Sylvia’s Delight glided inexorably into the hangar of the former Sector Command carrier. Shaw was reminded of the experience not long ago when he piloted the vessel into the stricken remains of the once-proud cruiser Icarus on a mission not too dissimilar from the one he now faced. Was this to be a rescue mission as the last one had been? Would they find a former crewman hanging onto life—as they had with Lieutenant Garcia? No, Shawn mused. It was highly unlikely, even more remote than when they had found the Icarus’ former sensor officer hanging on by a thread in a tattered environmental suit. This new ship, whatever her name once was, was long dead—along with any of the crew that had perished in the battle that waged outside the confines of her hull.

  The power reading they were searching for was definitely coming from the Akturian salvage ship; Shawn’s sensors told him that much. Unfortunately, with her docking ring attached firmly to the hull of the carrier, the only way to investigate further was to enter the Akturian vessel from the inside. Shawn only hoped the dangers involved in landing inside the old carrier were worth the risk he was taking.

  As the Mark-IV glided slowly toward its intended landing area, Shawn flipped on the exterior lights. The bay was nearly empty, with a lone Seminole fighter lashed to the deck on the left side. When D’s landing pads touched down on the thick steel deck of the hangar bay, Shawn activated the magnetic landing system. With the ship now firmly attached to the deck, he requested the computer make one final scan of the interior of the bay.

  “Habitation readings are space-normal, dear,” the female voice said. “Environmental suits will be required for extravehicular operations.”

  “And the rest of the ship too, I imagine,” Shawn said under his breath, but the computer picked it up and responded accordingly.

  “Sensor scans are showing minute power generation signals nearby.”

  Shawn narrowed his eyes at the screen. “And why didn’t you report this before?” he asked in a parental tone.

  “Reading this faint were too weak to identify until the ship was within proximity,” the computer replied matter-of-factly.

  “Anything else you’d like to report?”

  “Nothing noteworthy, Captain.”

  Trent unbuckled himself from the copilot’s seat and began to move aft. “I think I’ll head down to the engine room now, if you don’t mind. There’s less chatter down there.”

  Shawn likewise moved out of his chair. “I really do need you to look at D’s memory banks. I don’t like the way the ship is acting.”

  “You know, I’ve noticed that she’s a little testier than usual.”

  Shawn remembered a time when Trent had taken to making some manual adjustments to D’s flight control computer. The ship didn’t speak to him for a week afterward. “Have you been tinkering with her gyros again?”

  Trent turned and held up his index finger in a defensive gesture. “That was one time—one time—and I never did that again.”

  “Then what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, waving his hands over his head. “Maybe she’s spent too much time talking to the Rhea’s main computer. You know how it is when girls start talking. First it’s just schematics and debugging routines, but pretty soon it’s all about how their men never come home on time for dinner.”

  Shawn folded his arms across his chest. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with you and Ensign McAllister, would it?” he asked, referring to Trent’s infatuation.

  “No, we’re fine … just … fine.”

  “Good, because I need you fully focused right now. In case you need reminding, we aren’t at the Intergalactic House of Pancakes out here,” Shawn said, jerking his thumb toward the view port. “Just keep the ship together in one piece while I’m gone, and make sure the engines stay warm.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You won’t have a Kafaran colonel breathing down your neck.”


  “You’re kidding, right?” Shawn chuckled. “You don’t think I’d leave him on board when I’m not. No way, man. He’s coming with me.”

  “And Wilcox too, I imagine.”

  “You imagine right,” Shawn nodded. “Melissa will be here with you, and the ambassador as well. Having said that, I’m not entirely sure you’re getting the best end of this deal. You sure you don’t want to come out there with me?”

  “Are you kidding?” Trent snorted. “After what Melissa told me about what happened on the Icarus?”

  You mean the part where I saved her life, or the part where I kissed her? “When did she tell you about that?”

  “When I visited her … while she was in the brig.”

  “You went and—”

  “Yeah, sure I did,” Trent said defensively. “Just to … you know … see if she needed anything.”

  “And what did she tell you?”

  Trent scratched at the back of his neck, a gesture Shawn had always known was a stall tactic. “You really want to know?”

  Shawn folded his arms once more. “I do.”

  Trent swiftly reached out and slapped Shawn across the face. After a moment, when his captain didn’t hit him back, Trent looked at Shawn sheepishly. “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “Well, it’s just that I got that message already, which could only mean one thing.”

  “What’s that? That she really, really doesn’t like you?”

  Shawn shook his head. “No. It means you hit like a girl.”

  “I know,” Trent said, cocking his head in shame. “My bark has always been worse than my bite.”

  Shawn laughed, then patted his friend on the shoulder. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “I’m pretty sure everyone already knows.”

  “I’m certain you’re right.”

  “That’s comforting,” Trent said with an exaggerated eye roll.

  *

  Inside the small airlock just aft of the berthing compartment, Melissa was standing idly by as Shawn donned the last few pieces of his reflective environmental suit. Sergeant Wilcox, the stout Unified Marine, was fully suited, his lethal pulse rifle held at the ready against his chest. Outfitted with everything except their helmets, the two men looked at Colonel Tausan. The Kafaran had removed the majority of his uniform, most of which was more ceremonial than functional. Gone was the flowing crimson cape and robe-like outer coverings. What remained was a dark, form-hugging material, covered in strategic points by a flexible armor.