In the Presence of My Enemies

by Stephen A. Fender

  “Yes. My name is—”

  “Melissa Graves. Yes, I remember the introduction. Am I to understand, then, that you are with the Unified Office of Special Investigations?”

  She never once removed her eyes from Voula’s. “That’s correct, Captain.”

  “And a senior level agent, I take it as well. The Unified Council is not known for sending out lackeys for such important matters, I imagine.”

  “Again, correct.”

  Voula nodded slowly, then seemed to stare off into the distance, lost in thought, before speaking. “You will all give me every piece of information you have on your current mission, and your ultimate purpose for being here.” He then turned to fully face Tausan. “We will first start with Colonel Tausan, and I’m hoping that all the pieces will fall in succinctly from there.”

  McDermott stepped to Voula’s side. “Captain, may I speak?”

  Voula nodded smartly.

  “Fleet Captain Voula, I have no problem with my people telling you the reason for our mission. But please understand, time is of the essence. Many innocent worlds are being threatened as we speak. I must confer with your leaders at once.”

  Voula looked down at the younger, shorter man. Surprisingly, the captain nodded slowly and turned to the man sitting at the navigation console. “Set in a course for home, Lieutenant. Have the other ships escort us in.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” McDermott replied with a bow. “You honor my request.”

  “We have the traitors we sought, and their captives. It is only logical we return home. We will arrive at Rugor in three hours, Ambassador. You and your people have that long to convince me that your tale is true. Beyond that I can make no promises.”

  “All I really wanted to do was punch him in the face. He was the kind of man who was constantly asking for it, even when nothing was coming out of his mouth.”

  —Shawn Kestrel, on his initial feelings about Ambassador Scott McDermott,

  Heroes and Villains: A Brief History of the Meltranian Invasion

  Chapter 12

  Around the elongated metal table in the belly of the Leader’s Pride, Shawn and the rest of assembly looked at one another in silence. Colonel Tausan, the last to speak, had finished his recounting of their mission up to this point. At the head of the table, Fleet Captain Voula sat with the fingers of his strong hands steepled against his chin. There was little doubt what was going through Voula’s mind as he played back the words that had been spoken to him over the last few hours.

  “So,” the captain began, turned to face Shawn at his left. “You’ve seen one of these Meltranians up close?”

  Shawn nodded, recalling the frightful images he’d witnessed in the debris field a few days prior. “That’s right. It killed one of our people, and would have done the same to me had the colonel not intervened.” Shawn looked to Tausan, who nodded almost imperceptibly in the commander’s direction.

  “And this viral infection you spoke about, Colonel? It attacks all biological life-forms?”

  Tausan grunted. “I have yet to see anyone immune to its effects.”

  “And there is no known cure for it?”

  Melissa shifted in her seat, drawing all eyes to her. She withdrew the vial containing the sample Shawn had taken of Sergeant Wilcox’s body following the Meltranian’s attack. “This sample will need to be analyzed back on board our carrier as soon as possible. I’m not saying that we can find a cure, but maybe we could discover something that might help.”

  Voula seemed to tense at the sight of the vial and the nature of the toxic chemicals it contained. “I have no doubt that you will endeavor to discover something. I would be pressed to ask for a sample of that material, but I feel our sciences are not as advanced as your own. Our people are more interested in … other matters.”

  “Looting, pillaging, widespread mayhem … those sorts of things,” Shawn said, dismissing Voula’s statement.

  “Commander!” McDermott shouted from across the table.

  Voula silenced anything else the ambassador had to say on the subject with a raised hand. “It’s all right, Ambassador. A rebuking is unnecessary. Commander Kestrel is simply uninformed as to our current status.”

  “If by ‘current status’ you mean that Rugorians are widely known as pirates, mercilessly preying on innocent merchant captains, that I am fully aware of your current status. And, rest assured, I’m speaking from firsthand experience with your people.”

  “You’re speaking of Captain Hast, and those he represents.”

  “What do you mean?” Trent asked in confusion. “He’s a Rugorian. He represents you and your people.”

  Voula clenched his fist, and Shawn got the impression that the captain was about to slam it atop the table much like Captain Krif would do in a similar situation. Instead, Voula relaxed his hand and laid it flat on the smooth metal surface. “This would seem an ample place to begin my part in this production,” he began calmly. “The Rugorian Protectorate is in the process of establishing a fledgling government, and it is one that those like Captain Hast and the House of Dracton strongly oppose. That being said, there is more than a bit of truth to Commander Kestrel’s … opinions about my people. At the end of the Galactic War, we were content to live in isolation from the rest of Beta Sector. Not unlike the Unified Collaboration, we had our share of difficulties in rebuilding after so much devastation. The people wanted answers faster than the Rugorian monarchy could provide them. Many became dissatisfied by their apparent lack of concern for the majority of our offworld colonies. As such, dissatisfaction in the outer planets turned to opportunism, which eventually manifested itself into open piracy. Our people were hungry, destitute—desperate for anything that could save them from the spiral of despair they found themselves encased in. Soon the actions of the outer worlds manifested on the core planets, and within two years had spread to the home world itself. The monarchy dissolved almost overnight, with the royals taking whatever wealth they had accumulated for themselves and fleeing Rugorian space. In short order, the people were left to take care of themselves with little to no leadership to speak of.”

  “My God,” Melissa muttered. “What did you do then?”

  “The richest of the privateers formed clans, which eventually grew into Houses as more and more wealth was accumulated. Of those, the House of Dracton was one of the largest. Established on the largest of our core worlds, their ships numbered in the thousands, and they’ve openly attacked and pillaged everything in their path. Meanwhile, on the home world, a movement had begun to shelter our people under a democratic form of government … a kind my people had never known before, but showed much promise in the few months it existed before the House of Dracton discovered it.”

  “And they attacked?” Shawn asked.

  “Almost instantly,” Voula said with a nod. “However, there was a surprising number of supporters on Rugor who were sympathetic to our new cause. Many Houses quickly came to our aid, and formed together under the newly christened Rugorian Protectorate. Over the last year, we’ve been struggling to curtail those like Captain Hast in an attempt to confine their activities to the core systems.”

  “The less attention you draw to yourselves the better,” Shawn said with a nod, then caught the stern look he received from McDermott. “Any large-scale increase in pirate activities is bound to draw the attention of Sector Command, Ambassador. And rest assured, they will defend our worlds and our civilian merchants … even if it means outright conflict against the Rugorians.”

  Voula chuckled, more in contemplation than in jest. “Which, it seems, would be ill-advised, given your current preoccupation with the Meltranians.”

  “Perhaps,” Shawn nodded. “But don’t think for a minute we wouldn’t try.”

  Voula smiled broadly. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Commander. As I’ve said, we have more than our share of internal problems to deal with. In any case, we’ve made great strides over the last few weeks, routing a number of brigand advan
ces into Unified territory, not to mention Jidoan and Temkorian space.”

  It was Shawn’s turn to chuckle. “And you thought the USC would come after you? Just wait until the Temkorians come knocking. They’ll take no prisoners.”

  “Indeed,” Voula nodded. “We’ve had our share of run-ins with them as well, and have been only partially successful in extricating ourselves from harried situations.” He finished by running a finger down the trench of one of the scars on his face. “Some … including some of my own family, weren’t so fortunate.”

  “And you’ll continue this fight against your own people to what conclusion?” Melissa asked.

  “Until the rebels are completely subverted, Agent Graves.” He reached into his pocket and slid a small data tablet in her direction. “This message was just received prior to our capture of the Golden Storm. Our forces are, at this moment, moving into the capital cities of the core worlds. The House of Dracton will fall within days.”

  “And what of the people?” McDermott asked. “What of the prisoners?”

  Voula shrugged. “Many will be tried in our courts for acts of sedition and cruelty. Most will be executed, like Captain Hast as his crew.”

  McDermott shook his head in disgust. “Unacceptable.”

  “Perhaps you haven’t taken note of your surroundings, Ambassador, but you are not in Unified space anymore. We have our own laws, our own customs.”

  “You yourself said the government was fledgling … meaning new laws are likely to be enacted and disbanded just as quickly.”

  Voula nodded slowly. “Laws, yes. With the customs of my people, no … I’m afraid they cannot be changed.”

  “Things can always be changed.”

  Voula shook his head. “The old rebels must be swept clean, and made way for the new order of things. That, Ambassador, is the new Rugor: one in which we will able to deal with our galactic neighbors as equals, and where my people are no longer afraid of poverty or hunger.”

  “The new Rugor,” McDermott said with a sad shake of his head. “A glorious new empire, heralded on the drums of war … with uniformed officers marching in streets coated in blood.”

  “If that is how it must be.”

  “But it does not have to be,” McDermott implored.

  “We don’t know any other way, Ambassador,” Voula said, his tone as sorrowful as it was finite.

  Shawn took a long look at the captain, trying to grasp at the emotional scars that ran so much deeper than the ones etched on his face. The captain and his people had suffered a great deal; there seemed to be no question of that. They seemed to be dealing with it the best way they knew how. But it was impossible for Shawn to tell. He was neither a trained diplomat nor a telepath, and was exceedingly lacking in his ability to deduce the methods of these people—these pirates—or their motives. One thing was for certain, and he knew it from the soles of his boots to the core of his being: bloodshed would only beget more bloodshed.

  In that instant as Shawn looked at Voula, it dawned on the commander in a flash. This man was no different than he, and given the opportunity to wage the same type of conflict against the Kafarans those many years ago, he had done the very same thing. Shawn had killed hundreds of Kafarans—had helped to hunt them down in every corner of Unified space in an attempt to eradicate them, all in the name of “peace,” veiled in a justification embroidered with the name of his dead wife. In that moment, there, in the presence of two former sword enemies of the Unified Collaboration of Systems, Shawn came to realize one thing about his past that changed everything he would forever do: Sylvia would never have been proud of what he did. She would have hated him for it. As the people around the table once again sat in silence, Shawn felt a hard lump form in his throat.

  “There is a better way,” Shawn said, masking his sorrow with resolution over their current situation.

  “What was that, Commander?” Voula asked, his eyes shifting to Shawn.

  It was then that Shawn realized his last statement had been spoken barely above a whisper. “I said there is a better way.”

  “Commander,” Voula said, raising a hand as if about to halt Shawn’s train of thought. “I don’t believe that—”

  But Shawn had no intention of stopping. Not when so much was riding on the success of their mission. “You know what impressed me most about the Kafarans, Captain Voula?”

  Voula smiled, content to humor the human. “What was that?”

  Shawn looked to Tausan, who stared back at him with marked interest. “The Kafarans … they were merciless. Brutal. Almost savage in their attacks on Unified worlds.”

  “Commander—,” McDermott started in disbelief, but was silenced as Voula placed a firm hand over the ambassador’s wrist, allowing Shawn to continue.

  “Every time we thought we had them—when by all accounts they should have tucked tail and run—they poured it back onto us even heavier than before. They never gave in, even when it meant their own lives.” Shawn stopped, letting his mind and his mouth catch up. “And by many accounts, they died for it. Hundreds of times. Thousands … across hundreds of square light-years.”

  “Your point, Commander?” Voula asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “The only thing that impressed me more about fighting against them … was fighting alongside them.” Shawn then turned to face Tausan. “And I’d do it again, any day of the week. They have just as much courage and desire to survive as much as any species I’ve ever encountered, including humanity. I’ll stand against any man who says that Kafarans don’t have as much right to be here as we do. Sure, we may have our disagreements about the future, but that’s what people like Ambassador McDermott are here for. Unfortunately, the diplomats seldom get a chance to help the warriors make it through to the final stages if fighting is all we want to do. And there must be change, Captain. It’s the only way. It’s essential to survival; I don’t care if you’re talking about microbes or bipedal intelligent species.”

  Voula again steepled his fingers against his chin, this time leaning back in his chair. “Please … continue, Commander.”

  “The only way we made it out of the last battle with the Meltranians was because the Kafarans showed up in the nick of time. Without the aid of the Army of Light, we would have been done for. As it was, we took heavy casualties—both of our peoples did—before the Meltranian ship was finally defeated.”

  “And who exactly is this Army of Light we’ve been hearing rumors of for months?”

  “An assembly of worlds,” Tausan said. “Old allies and new, banded together to stop the invading forces of our common enemy.”

  “And under whose flag do they sail? Who leads them?”

  “Up until a few days ago,” McDermott said, “the majority of the forces were banded under the umbrella of the Kafaran Alliance. However, several delegates from both the Kafarans and the Unified Council are working together to combine our forces as we speak.”

  “So, the UCS will lead?”

  McDermott looked to Tausan before speaking. “That has not been decided. For now, it is simply a multi-governmental body whose purpose is to—”

  “Yes, I know: stop the Meltranians using any means at your combined disposal. And where is this meeting currently taking place?”

  McDermott looked to Melissa, who gave the ambassador a slight nod. “At last report, Second Earth.”

  Voula nodded thoughtfully. “And apt location for a peace treaty, considering the context of the planetary devastation during the war.”

  “It just ended up that way,” Shawn said. “It wasn’t planned.”

  “In my experience, Commander, there is no such thing as chance.” Voula then reached into his pocket and withdrew another cigar. Lighting it, he regarded the wide view ports on the far wall. “And your confrontation with the Meltranians? How many ships accounted for your combined efforts?

  “Our carrier and the Kafarans’, plus a small number of cruisers and destroyers from both sides.”

  �
��Against one ship?” Voula almost laughed. “You’re not selling yourself well enough, Commander Kestrel. A small fleet against one ship and you took that much damage? What possible help do you think Rugor can offer?”

  “Save for Unified Sector Command, you have the largest fleet in Beta Sector,” Melissa said. “That alone makes you an indispensable ally.”

  “I’m afraid your intelligence is a bit outdated, Agent Graves. We have no such forces.”

  “How can that be?” she asked in disbelief. “Just before departing for this mission I received the latest intelligence concerning the Rugorian shipyards at Gioma. Two entire battle fleets are there right now. Over a hundred and fifty ships, just waiting to—”

  “—to wither and die, Agent Graves.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Gioma is a storage facility, nothing more. Those fleets are shadows of a bygone era when we fought alongside our Kafaran allies,” he said, nodding to Tausan but receiving none in return. “We have two others even larger. One fell under the control of the House of Dracton for a short period, which is where they drew their pool of vessels from, but we are in the process of retaking that facility.”

  “They are incapable of getting underway?” McDermott asked.

  “Oh, I’m quite sure most are still functional. Their fusion cores alone have a half-life of three hundred years, more than enough reserves to power the drive engines and the directed energy weapons for a long time to come.”