In the Presence of My Enemies

by Stephen A. Fender

  “I’ve got the stretcher assembled, but I have no idea where we’re going to take him.”

  “I do. I picked up a minor energy reading before we crashed. We’ll head off in that direction. There’s bound to be something there that can help us out.”

  Trent looked at him dubiously. “You’re sure of that, are you?”

  “No, but anything is better than the alternative of staying here until we run out of supplies.”

  It was at that moment that Colonel Tausan appeared from behind the rocky outcropping near D’s bow.

  “Colonel,” Shawn yelled unnecessarily, indicating to Trent and Melissa that their conversation had come to an end. “Did you see anything?”

  Tausan grunted as he neared the trio. “Nothing, Commander Kestrel.”

  “Good. I hate surprises.” He then caught the colonel up on the energy reading, and that they would be shortly heading in that direction. Whether the colonel agreed or not, it wasn’t immediately clear. He simply gave one of his perfunctory grunts, then moved inside the Mark-IV with Shawn to gather what little supplies they had mustered.

  Standing outside the remains of the ship ten minutes later, Shawn paused near the ambassador before giving final instructions. “How’s he doing?” he asked Melissa as she tended the cut on McDermott’s forehead.

  “He’s in and out of consciousness. I’ve managed to stop the bleeding for now, but any sudden movement could open up the wounds.”

  Shawn nodded, then held a small pack up. “We’ve got enough food and water to last us three days, and I managed to retrieve a few pounds of that stuff Tausan calls food.”

  “That will suffice for that timeframe, Commander,” Tausan sneered.

  “Good. For fear of being insulting, this stuff smells like dead fish, so you get the honor of carrying it.” He threw the pack toward the Kafaran, who easily snatched it midflight. Shawn then shouldered a pack that was lying near his feet. “I packed our supplies separately.”

  “In case we get separated?” Tausan asked. “A wise precaution, Commander.”

  “Separated? I’m not letting you out of my sight. I did it because, as distasteful as these emergency rations are going to be, its nothing compared to what they would’ve tasted like sitting next to your food in this hot backpack after a few hours.”

  “How far away is the reading?” Tausan asked.

  “About ten miles, give or take a half dozen,” he said, taking a drink of water and then pointing east. “That way. Think you can make it that far, Colonel?”

  “While it’s is true my planet is far cooler than this, my body will acclimate.”

  Trent snorted. “I think that means he’ll live.”

  “Good,” Shawn smiled at the colonel. “See that you do.” He leaned down and picked up the computer that Trent had earlier tossed aside. “We’ve got about three hours until sunset. Trent, you and the Colonel will take the Ambassador. Melissa, you stay near to them in case he wakes up. I’ll take point.”

  “What if I get tired?” Trent asked.

  “We’ll switch out every forty-five minutes, if you think those spaghetti noodle arms of yours can take it that long,” Shawn said with a smile.

  “Don’t tell me you’re finding your sense of humor again?”

  “I’m getting my second wind.”

  As the team strode off, Shawn ventured one last look at the broken remains of his once-beautiful ship. The stylized “Sylvia’s Delight” painted on the port side was gleaming in the sunlight, and Shawn felt a lump form in his throat. Quickly swallowing it, he offered his ship a relaxed salute before turning back east.

  *

  Several hours later, by the time the sun had fully set behind the mountains far off in the distance, the castaways stopped to make camp. While the day had been a hot and arduous one, Shawn’s computer informed him that Falorin was apt to become very cool at night. Using bed linens and various scavenged material from the Mark-IV, Shawn and Trent had erected a handful of tents in a semicircle around a small campfire.

  As their rations cooked, Shawn looked across at Melissa, who was dabbing a cloth on the ambassador’s forehead. McDermott had been out all day, not regaining consciousness once during their nearly four-hour trek to this position. In a way, that had suited Shawn just fine. In another, it began to frighten him. Only Melissa’s assurance that the ambassador was stable stopped Shawn from going into an all-out panic. Please, God, don’t let him die. Don’t let this all be for nothing.

  Trent, for his part, was silent. He’d taken to throwing bits of twigs into the fire, watching them pop and sizzle, and then repeating the action. Shawn could tell that his friend was both bored and frustrated, and wished he could do something to alleviate either of those things.

  Colonel Tausan was on guard duty, a position that Shawn suggested they rotate every few hours to allow the others to rest. The colonel was at the periphery of the firelight, his Kafaran eyes easily able to see well into the darkness that would have otherwise obscured human vision. The colonel still carried the old shotgun, which was loaded with three shells. Likely, it wasn’t enough to do serious damage to any large wild animals that might be out there, but it would be sufficient enough to alert the rest of the group.

  A moan from the ambassador’s direction drew Shawn’s attention.

  “I think he might be coming around,” Melissa said, reaching into the small medical pouch and withdrawing a handful of vitamin supplements.

  Shawn walked to the opposite side of the fire to kneel by her side. The ambassador’s eyes fluttered as his head rolled from side to side while Melissa dabbed a wet cloth on his dry skin. There was another series of moans, as if he were fighting against the state that was keeping him unconscious. With a sharp intake of breath, McDermott’s eyes popped open, quickly scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

  “Welcome back to the land of the living,” Shawn said with a smile, grateful that McDermott’s condition had somewhat improved.

  The ambassador began speaking through raspy breaths. “How … how long have I been out?”

  “Several hours now, Scott,” Melissa said as she continued to dab at his head. She held a cup of water to his mouth and he drank greedily. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  It seemed to take the ambassador a moment to recall the memory. “An explosion of some sort. After that … I don’t know what happened.” He turned his head, surveying the makeshift camp and the figures gathered near the fire. “Am I to assume we’ve landed?”

  “We don’t normally start fires on the ship,” Trent replied acerbically, then looked sideways to Shawn. “Not intentionally, anyway.”

  “Trent,” Melissa chided, but was cut off by McDermott.

  “No doubt by the commander’s skillful piloting, I’ll wager,” he continued.

  The ungrateful tone in the ambassador’s voice could have been attributed to almost anything. Still, it ruffled Shawn’s feathers. “If by that you’re proposing how we survived the encounter, then I’d agree. Otherwise—” His words were silenced by Melissa clutching at his leg and the stern look she gave him when their eyes met. “We’re alive for the time being, Ambassador,” he continued, pulling away from her grasp. “As far as for how long that’s going to continue, I’m not sure.” He then leaned down close to the ambassador. “But one thing’s for certain, and that is that you’re no longer able to effectively lead this mission.”

  “Quite right,” the ambassador said to Shawn’s surprise, then chuckled. “That’s why I’m placing Colonel Tausan in command for the time being.”

  “The colonel?” Melissa asked, equally as shocked as Shawn.

  McDermott gave a throaty cough, then caught his breath. “He is the ranking officer here, Agent Graves. Besides, he has more ground command experience than any of us. It’s only fitting.”

  Shawn turned to the Colonel, who was staring at the Ambassador impassively. “Colonel?”

  Tausan stood, his eyes staring into Shawn’s. “A word, Comm
ander Kestrel,” the Kafaran’s translator squawked.

  Tausan wants to speak to me alone, and I can understand why. Shawn nodded, then turned to Melissa. “Keep him awake if you can. He needs to be rehydrated.” When Melissa’s head dipped in return, Shawn and the colonel walked to the far side of the campsite and out of earshot of the rest of the team.

  “What’s on your mind, Colonel?”

  Tausan reached down, turning down the volume on his translator. “I’m not fit to lead this mission, Commander.”

  Shocked at the words that were about to come out of his mouth, Shawn found himself disagreeing. “The ambassador’s right: you’ve got more experience in planetary operations than any of us. You don’t make colonel by issuing questionable orders, not in any branch of the service I’m aware of. I may not have a lot of experience with dealing with Kafarans on the ground, but I’ve fought in space against your kind … and beside them. I doubt your empire is much different.”

  “Your words honor my people, but … I am accustomed to issuing those orders to trained battalions of soldiers ready to die for our empire, Commander. Human beings are—”

  “Are no different when the stakes are the same.” Shawn found himself smiling, then did something he thought he’d never in his life do. He gave the Kafaran a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Have a little faith in humanity, Colonel. You may be surprised by what you see.”

  Tausan looked to his shoulder where Shawn had touched him as if the gesture were completely alien to him. It probably was. Tausan then inclined his head back toward the camp. “If their resolve is no less than yours, Commander, I have no doubt that your statement will prove true.”

  “A compliment?”

  “A fact, Commander. However, Falorin is far from our final destination. Once we are back in space, which I trust will be quite soon, I will gladly relinquish command to you. You, after all, are more experienced in that arena than any of us.”

  Although he had no idea how they were going to get off the planet, Shawn found himself smiling again. Satisfied of the outcome, the two men returned to the group.

  “Did you boys play nicely?” Trent teased.

  “Everything is fine,” Shawn said, holding his arms up in surrender. “The colonel and I were just discussing our next moves.”

  “And those are?” McDermott asked in a scratchy voice.

  “We will rest here for the evening,” Tausan began in his most authoritative tone. “There will be a rotating watch, which I will assume first. Commander Kestrel will relieve me in three hours, followed by Sergeant Maddox. Agent Graves, you will keep a vigil on the ambassador, and alert me to any change in his condition throughout the night, but do not let it hinder you from your own slumber. We will move out at first dawn.”

  Shawn smiled. “Sounds like as good enough a plan as I’ve ever heard.”

  McDermott nodded slowly from his reclined position. “Agreed, Colonel.”

  “We will begin the first watch now,” Tausan said as he stood and grabbed for the shotgun.

  Instead, Shawn offered the fully automatic assault rifle he’d taken from their fallen Marine comrade. “Better safe than sorry, Colonel.”

  The Colonel examined the weapon, then nodded at Shawn. “Get some rest, Commander. I will wake you in three hours.”

  “Men often oppose a thing merely because they have had no agency in planning it, or because it may have been planned by those whom they dislike.”

  —Alexander Hamilton, First Secretary of the Treasury, United States of America, Old Earth calendar 1789.

  “[In reference to the above quote] It should be remembered that Hamilton was fatally wounded in a duel, one in which his main intent was [arguably] not to kill the other party.”

  —Biloxub Nesher, PhD.

  Professor of Ancient Earth History, Unified Sector Command Academy, Primary Campus, Third Earth.

  Chapter 9

  There was an explosion. Shawn had no idea the cause, but the shock wave immediately caused his fighter to pitch to starboard. Quickly regaining control of the craft, he could clearly see a swarm of Kafaran fighters harassing a smaller number of Sector Command interceptors about half a mile from his position. The sky above was pink, the water below was red as blood, and the distant mountains were almost black against the setting suns. Shawn angled his craft nose-down, heading toward the fight at full speed.

  As a Kafaran fighter strayed into his sights, there was another explosion, this one directly in front of his craft. The cockpit was engulfed in flames, and Shawn frantically reached for the ejection handle. Pulling it at the last moment, he managed to eject just as the fighter exploded under him.

  Opening his eyes with a start, Shawn snapped from his slumber to the sight of a weapon pointed dangerously close to his face. Stunned, the commander reeled back to see Colonel Tausan leaning close to him, the Kafaran’s large hand resting on his shoulder. In the fog of slumber, Shawn had no immediate idea if this were a nightmare or reality. Regardless, he instinctively reached for his gun, pleased to find that the pistol was still tucked safely inside his jacket. Intent on pointing it directly at the Kafaran, Shawn was brought back fully into reality by Tausan’s words, and he stopped the maneuver.

  “Commander, something is coming.”

  Shawn leaned up on an elbow, wiping at his eyes as the last of the fog in his mind cleared. Shawn could see that the sun was still an hour from rising, with the orange and violet hues of the morning light just beginning to form an aura near the peaks of the distant mountains. “Can you be more specific?”

  “A surface ship, possibly a transport.”

  Shawn heard nothing. However, the Kafaran craned his head up, then tilted it from side to side as if he were trying to better triangulate the origin of the noise. “From the west. Moving quickly.”

  “How far?” Shawn said, getting to his feet and looking in the indicated direction.

  “Impossible to say.”

  “If they’re coming from the west, it’s likely they saw our wreckage.”

  Melissa, awoken by the two men talking, stood and neared Shawn. “It could be a rescue team.”

  “Or it could be cannibals looking for breakfast,” Shawn said. “We have no way of knowing.”

  “Did someone say breakfast?” Trent sighed from beside the fire. “I could sure use some bacon right about now.”

  Shawn began to hear the noise the colonel was referring to. It started out as a dull hum, then increased to a high-pitched whine. “Trent, get me those binoculars from my bag.”

  He did as he was asked, but not without a requisite protest. Flipping them on, Trent handed the instrument to Shawn. “Hopefully you’ll find some food with these things.”

  Shawn scanned the distance, flipping through several thermal and visual filters before the fast-moving object came into view.

  “Commander?” Tausan asked.

  After a moment, Shawn handed the device to the colonel. “See for yourself.”

  Holding the small device to his dark eyes, the Kafaran scanned the distant horizon. After a moment he saw it: it was a skimmer, hovering just above the desert sand and kicking up a small storm in its powerful wake. The hull was a mottled mix of dark reds and browns, with patches of silver bolted on where there craft had taken damage in the past. At the bow of the angular craft was a pair of lethal-looking barrels, but it was impossible to tell whether they were beam weapons or chemically charged rounds. Whatever crew manned the vessel, they seemed to be inside, with no one riding atop it.

  “I have not seen a craft of that designation before,” Tausan said as he handed the binoculars to Melissa.

  “I’ve seen something similar,” Shawn replied as he checked the charge on his weapon. “I’d say it was Rugorian.”

  “Pirates,” Melissa breathed.

  Shawn nodded. “Probably scavengers.”

  Roused from his sleep a moment before, Ambassador McDermott propped himself up on his elbows with a laborious grunt. “We must make conta
ct with them.”

  “Out of the question,” Shawn said slowly as he looked back to the skimmer in the binoculars.

  “You forget, Commander, that the colonel is in command, and—,” but the ambassador was quickly cut off by Tausan.

  “I concur with the commander,” Tausan grunted. “We cannot risk contact at this juncture. With one person immobilized, we would be at an extreme disadvantage if they decide to become hostile.”

  “That’s a chance I’m willing to take, Colonel,” McDermott said with conviction, as if anything he proposed on the matter had a one-hundred-percent chance of success. Shawn was far from convinced, and it seemed Tausan felt the same way.

  “I am not, Ambassador. The craft is not on a direct course to intercept us. I doubt they are aware that we are here.”

  Now visible to their naked eyes, Melissa watched as the craft passed their location by no less than half a mile, continuing over a rise in the same direction as the energy reading the team was following, and then disappeared. “Shawn?”

  “My guess is they saw D go down and went out to investigate. They may not be after us right now, but it’s a safe bet they know someone is here.”

  “How far is the reading from this location, Commander?” Tausan asked.

  Shawn looked to the computer, verifying that the information he’d read before going to sleep was still accurate. “About two miles.”

  “We should be able to cover that in less than two hours,” the colonel said with a nod. “We must break camp immediately. It will be to our advantage to go to them before they come after us.”

  *

  When the final pack was filled, Shawn hefted it onto his back and locked on to the energy reading with his computer. For the time being, Tausan and Trent would carry along the ambassador, who by then was feeling well enough not to need Melissa’s constant supervision. So she and Shawn walked side by side, and over the next hour and a half very little was said between any of them.