In the Presence of My Enemies

by Stephen A. Fender

  “Then why haven’t you used them to combat the House of Dracton? You could have easily dealt with them using a handful of heavy cruisers.”

  “We cannot simply bombard their strongholds with massive firepower, Agent Graves. There are civilians amongst them, which the Dractons use as live shields. Oh, of course we’ve reactivated a great many patrol ships and smaller blockade runners, but nothing the size of a frigate or larger has been recommissioned. They’re simply … overkill, as you humans would say. Besides,” Voula said as he pointed his hand at Shawn, “such large-scale fleet movements would alert our Sector Command friends to our internal struggles. That alone is the driving reason why the rebels haven’t used their supply of ships against us.”

  “You need to rethink your strategy about getting those ships going,” Shawn said as he folded his arms across his chest, “as well as your theory about sentencing your own people to death. If we’re right, and I have no reason to doubt we are, you’re going to need all the manpower and equipment you can get your hands on—and that includes experienced captains like Hast.”

  “Is that right?” Voula asked.

  “Yeah, it is, because those Meltranians are out there right now, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that they don’t give two damns about your little internal struggles. That one ship, the one that gave us so much trouble near Second Earth? Well, there’s three of them now, and they’re heading toward a nice little cozy planet called Osa’Mara in the Damara Valala system.”

  “Say that three times fast,” Trent whispered to Melissa, who gave the sergeant a none-too-subtle elbow into the ribs.

  The smile on Voula’s face quickly faded. “Osa’Mara is—was—one of our worlds.”

  “That’s correct,” Melissa said with a nod. “And you relinquished your right to the world as part of your treaty of non-aggression with the Unified Collaboration. USC members settled the world, and when the Outer Rim of planets separated from the UCS, Osa’Mara requested to remain under our protection. There are nearly four million civilians living in the system.”

  Voula licked his lips, then looked down at the table. “I’m aware of the statistics, Agent Graves.”

  “That’s right,” Shawn said. “Farmers. Agriculture. They help feed some of the neighboring planets, even ones that are not direct Unified affiliates. I believe Jurisa is one of those worlds. But then again … you already know that, don’t you, Captain?”

  “Jurisa is a small colony world … a satellite for the Rugorian Protectorate. They are … far from the home world. We do our best to make sure to supply them with everything they need, but it is strained at times. The conflict with the House of Dracton has left the protectorate low on resources.”

  “And one of the major reasons you don’t want to make waves in the Unified sphere,” McDermott said. “In a small way, we’re feeding your people.”

  “No, Ambassador. There is nothing small about it. But we are a proud people, and not ones to enjoy living off the charity of others.”

  Shawn leaned back in his chair once more. “When the Meltranians arrive, they’re not going to stop at Osa’Mara. They going to wipe out Jurisa as well, and any other system in the region. Then they’ll move on, and guess who’s next on their list?”

  Voula nodded, knowing that the next logical step for the advancing Meltranians would be to invade Rugorian space itself.

  “So you see,” Shawn continued, “we’re not here asking for your help because the Meltranians are knocking on our door. We’re here because they’re knocking on yours. Your current fleet, even at full strength, won’t last two weeks against them. And when the Meltranian are done with you, they’ll move on to the core world of the Unified Sphere, and by then it’ll be too late for anyone to do a damn thing about it.”

  The room fell silent as Voula regarded Shawn’s words. The captain stroked his chin, occasionally gazing out one of the three large view ports that lines the starboard wall. Just when it looked as if he were going to speak, the intercom on the far wall echoed a distinctly male voice.

  “Captain Voula?” a voice rang from a speaker far in the overhead.

  Voula stepped to the panel and pressed the single switch. “Yes, what is it?”

  “Bridge here, Captain. We are entering orbit of the home world.”

  “Understood,” he sighed. “I will return to the bridge shortly.” He then turned to the still-seated assembly. “I will arrange for a meeting between yourselves and the protectorate leader. Beyond that, I can promise very little. If you will excuse me.” Voula turned and headed for the door, only to be stopped by a word from McDermott.

  “Fleet Captain Voula?”

  “Yes, Ambassador?”

  “As a fleet commander, you’re words and opinions must carry weight within your leadership.”

  Despite the grim news he’d just been delivered, Voula found himself smiling and looked to Shawn before answering. “Not as much as I’d like at times.”

  “I was curious. How will you convey our mission to the protectorate’s leaders?”

  “Are you asking if your story has convinced me of our mutual predicament?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  Voula nodded, averted his eyes toward the view port one final time and out to the distant stars. “That verdict is … unresolved.” And with that he stepped back, allowing the doors to close quietly.

  Shawn looked at Melissa, then to McDermott. “Ambassador?”

  McDermott sighed heavily, then nodded. “Your performance here today as a negotiator, Commander Kestrel, was sorely lacking. In fact, it was likely the worst display of political correctness I’ve seen in a long time.”

  “Scott,” Shawn began humbly, “look, I’m really sorry about—”

  “And quite honestly, under the circumstances, was exactly what we needed.” McDermott said as he turned toward the star-filled window. “Voula is the captain of his ship, and I suspect that no one here understands that responsibility more so than you.”

  “I suppose not, but it wasn’t—”

  “And no one here understands the Rugorian mindset more so than you, isn’t that right? That’s partially why you were chosen for this mission, after all.”

  “Sure, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “And there’s a 50-50 chance that you may have just saved this mission from complete disaster.”

  Shocked, Shawn blinked hard. “Thank you, Ambassador, but I—”

  McDermott then turned to face Shawn with a stern gaze. “That means there’s an equal chance this whole thing is going to blow up right in our face. And if it does, assuming we survive, I’m going to enjoy taking you to the highest levels of punishment I can go, court-martial and all. So, from here on out, let’s get one thing straight: if you’ve played your cards right then we’re all going to be very, very lucky. But the leader of these people will want to speak to a diplomat, not some trigger-happy flight jockey.”

  Flight jockey? Melissa knew Shawn was going to hate that.

  I can’t say I’m impressed with your efforts thus far. “Things have gotten a little hairy since you got yourself knocked out, Mister Ambassador.”

  That seemed to ruffle the ambassador’s feathers, but the younger man stopped himself from making an unwise outburst. “Be that as it may, Commander, I am up and fully able to resume my responsibilities and in all conceivable capacities.”

  “Meaning you’re resuming command of this mission?”

  McDermott nodded slowly. “And you would be best advised to remember that.”

  “Then I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.” And he meant every word of it.

  “The skin of evil has no one color; the voice has no one pitch. Its origins have no set date, nor was it born in any one particular place or have one ultimate destination in mind. But it has an agenda, it has an unquenchable hunger, and it lives and breathes on the sufferings of others … and it must be stopped, even if it’s the last thing we do. Nothing short of the con
tinuation of our very way of life depends upon it.”

  —President Ukena Aunzara,

  Unified Collaboration of Systems

  As stated in his address to the Unified Council on the eve

  of the first official battle in the war against the Meltranians.

  Chapter 13

  “Captain, we’re approaching the inner planets of Damara Valala system,” the sensor officer called from her station.

  On the bridge of the supercarrier Duchess of York, Captain Darian Ramos stared out the long view port ahead of him with mixed emotions. His arms folded loosely across his chest, and with eyes unseen because of the low-tipped brim of his officer’s cap, he nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Lieutenant Dorsey.”

  Ahead of the ship was nothing but the backdrop of distant stars, punctuated by a long orange-red gas giant far off in the distance directly forward of the carrier. With the combined fleet of Sector Command and Kafaran warships running at flank speed, they would pass the Neptune-sized world in less than an hour. Not long after, however, the fleet would need to slow down to pass through the thinnest layer of the second of two asteroid belts that ringed this system. After that, they would be on to their final destination.

  “What is our ETA to the second asteroid belt?” Ramos asked, his voice thick with a lingering German accent that he was proud to bear.

  The far too young, but very attractive and highly skilled young woman behind the sensor console, Lieutenant Samantha Dorsey, didn’t need to look at her instruments to give the captain the information. “One hours, sixteen minutes until we reach the point of insertion, sir.”

  “Very good.” Ramos slowly moved closer to the view port, straightening his long tunic in the process. “Flight Control Officer, are our scout teams ready?”

  Lieutenant Commander Weberity, the ship’s operations officer, looked down at the control monitor. The Duchess was going to send two scout teams in on different vectors. With their radar not nearly as powerful as the carrier’s, it was hoped that the combined overlapping signals would give the best overall picture of what was going on in the Damara Valala system.

  On his screen, Weberity called out the designations of the shapes representing four fighters and two early warning craft as they blinked slowly. “Yes, sir. Grim Reapers-Three and -Four are standing by with Ranger-Two. Screwbirds-One and -Three and standing by with Explorer-One.”

  “They should be able to bisect the asteroid field without difficulties,” Ramos said, as much to himself as to the bridge crew. “Launch the patrol wings and make sure they get into their designated vectors as soon as possible. I want to know exactly what we’re going to find in that system before we traverse the belt.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Samantha?” Ramos asked the senior sensor officer, highlighting the informality with which he often addressed his bridge officers. “Are there any signs of Meltranian activity on the sensors?”

  “I’m not picking up anything on the long-range, Captain,” she said while reading the information on her display.

  “Keep the sensors on the widest possible arc and on all frequencies. I don’t want any surprises.”

  “That’s going to task our systems quite a bit, sir. We may lose some resolution, and the range will be greatly affected.”

  Lieutenant Ashlee Kidd, the ship’s acting helmsman sitting to Samantha’s right, leaned over to whisper to her friend. “I know you haven’t had many bridge watches, but I’m pretty sure the captain knows the limits of this equipment, Samantha.”

  Upset that she didn’t realize that mistake until she’d spoken, Samantha felt her face flush in frustration. “I’m just trying to be thorough, Ash.”

  “Is there something I should know about, ladies?” came the reply from between the women. They hadn’t heard Captain Ramos’s silent footsteps as he approached them, and his voice—while calm—startled them both.

  “No, sir,” the two officers replied briskly in unison, then turned back to their duties.

  Captain Ramos grunted softly as his eyes moved from one of the lieutenants to the other. “I see. Well, things are going to get tense once the Meltranians show up. I think it’s best for all hands to maintain a constant awareness of everything that’s happening, but don’t wind yourselves up too tight. Do you both understand what I’m saying?” His voice was ever calm, but firm.

  “Yes, sir,” Ashlee replied smartly.

  “Yes, sir. That is, I think I do,” Samantha said.

  Ashlee fought the urge to smack the palm of her hand against her face in frustrations. Someday that girl is going to learn, but it isn’t going to be today.

  “Samantha,” Ramos said, his voice soft, “go get yourself a cup of coffee. In fact, take Lieutenant Kidd with you as well. I’ll call up temporary reliefs for you.”

  “But, sir,” Samantha said, wide-eyed. “I really thought … that is … I was hoping to be here when we arrive at Osa’Mara.”

  This time, Ashlee didn’t stop her palm from striking her forehead. Fortunately the captain’s attention was placed elsewhere.

  “I want my best people manning these consoles if and when we come under attack. And by that, I mean the two of you. There’s no one better qualified. But, having said that, I need you alert and focused. Thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of lives will be hanging on what this fleet does here in the coming hours. Does that make more sense to you now?”

  Samantha, filled with pride over the captain’s words, nodded sharply. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Then I expect you both back here within the hour. Mr. Weberity, make sure their reliefs have been paged.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As the two women got up to leave, the three-armed, three-legged Polysaurian communications officer called across the compartment. “Captain, transmission coming in from the Kafaran flagship. It’s Commodore Savath.”

  “Pipe it through to my terminal here, Lieutenant.”

  A moment later, the screen in front of Ramos popped to life with the image of the Kafaran officer. Ramos, much like the rest of his crew, was far from completely adjusted to working with their once-hated enemies, and the sight of the Commodore’s pallid face nearly gave him a start. While the Kafaran officer was technically Ramos’s superior by rank, Savath had eloquently relinquished command of the fleet to Ramos while they operated outside Kafaran space. Regardless, there was still a tradition of protocol that Ramos would follow with regards to a superior officer, and like many traditions, one that Ramos would do so to the letter.

  “Yes, sir?” Ramos said formally.

  “Good day, Captain,” Savath’s voice translator said and the Kafaran nodded. “You are preparing to send out your reconnaissance patrol, I imagine?”

  “That’s correct, sir.”

  “Might I make a suggestion?”

  Ramos had pondered over whether the Kafarans would be completely content to relinquish all command responsibilities to their human allies. Now it seemed that Savath was about to answer that. “Of course, Commodore.”

  “I’d like to deploy one of our cruisers and a destroyer to the far side of Osa’Mara.”

  “The reason being?”

  “This is a large system, Captain. Twelve planetoids and two asteroid belts to be precise. It’s possible that Meltranians may attack from any angle. We should be prepared for that.”

  “I understand your caution, Commodore. I’ve thought the same thing myself.”

  Savath’s lips turned upwards in a smirk, a very human gesture that Ramos found both comforting and oddly disquieting on a Kafaran. “I feel there is more you have to say on the matter.”

  “I don’t wish to spread our forces too thin, Commodore. If we come under attack, we will need the combined firepower of all our vessels to thwart the invaders. Moving two starships to the opposite side of Osa’Mara will not only take time now, but will present a problem if we encounter heavy resistance.”

  “I see, Captain,” Savath said with a nod.

 
“And,” Ramos added with his own smile, “if you’ll pardon any impertinence on my part, Osa’Mara is a Unified-controlled planet. I don’t want—”

  “—Kafaran vessels operating alone in this system,” Savath finished.

  The thought had crossed Ramos’s mind more than once, but he’d hoped he wouldn’t be placed in a position where he’d have to put voice to it. “The regional government of the planet has been advised of the current status of cooperation existing between the Unified Collaboration and the Kafaran Alliance. However, their response was both cryptic and somewhat hostile. I have no doubts as to the intentions of your crews, Commodore. The same cannot be fully stated for Osa’Mara. The population suffered greatly during the war, and it seems many in the leadership body still hold old grudges very tightly. It would be best for all parties concerned if, when we arrive at the planet, all Kafaran ships are clustered within the Sector Command fleet.”

  “Are we to come under fire from your own people, Captain?” Savath asked hesitantly.

  Ramos had thought of this as well and—had Osa’Mara’s land-based defenses been stronger—felt it a likely possibility. “No, Commodore. I don’t believe so. I would just like to avoid … any unnecessary incidents. I’m sure you would do the same to protect us if the situation were reversed.”

  Savath seem to ponder this for a moment. “I’m sure I would, Captain,” the Kafaran’s voice translator squawked. “It will be as you request, Fleet Captain. Savath out.”

  “A moment, Commodore,” Ramos said, succeeding in stopping the Kafaran from cutting communications.

  “Yes?”

  While diplomacy wasn’t exactly his strong point, Ramos knew how tenuous their current alliance with the Kafarans was. Not wanting to make offense, he acted quickly. “Thank you for bringing your concerns to my attention. I’d like you to know that, should you require anything else, I will keep a secure channel open at all times for you.”

  Savath seemed to straighten, and Ramos was unsure if his statement had honored or offended. “Thank you, Captain. I will keep that in mind.”

  “Very good.”