Tausan grunted, which received a smile from Melissa who stood at his side to assist him. “You will not be dissatisfied with my performance, Captain.”
As the colonel went to his duties, Voula and Shawn turned to the forward windows and the Meltranian vessel quickly filling it up. Seconds later, heavy blasts of energy sprang out from the two dozen small cannon batteries on the Redemption. This was quickly followed by several barrages from the upper and lower mass cannons—large-caliber weapons designed to burst open heavily fortified planetary strongholds. The result was immediately seen. Large sections of the Meltranian warship flaked off, and in several places exposed the innards of the vessel to open space. After a small number of salvos, the mass cannons went silent.
“I only wish we had more rounds,” Voula said as he watched Shawn brace himself in anticipation. “Not only are they expensive, but they take a heavy toll on our energy reserves.”
Looking at the devastation that the few rounds had brought about, Shawn was more than satisfied with the results. “I think the Meltranians got the point.”
“Colonel Tausan,” Voula said. “Continue firing all remaining energy weapons until the barrels overheat or the target is destroyed.” He then turned to one of the Rugorians in the corner. “Communications, order all ships not currently engaged with enemy fighters to open fire on the Meltranian vessel with extreme prejudice.”
With the odds now in their favor, the Rugorian fleet made little work of the once-powerful Meltranian warship. Surrounded by thirty warships, its attention was too divided from the planet to pose any more threat. As round after round from the Rugorians whittled away at the intruder, it tried in vain to move away from the planet and escape, but the Rugorians were having none of it. It fired off one final shot from its isotonic cannon, missing its target and rocketing harmlessly between two Rugorian cruisers. When at last the enemy vessel stopped moving under its own power, Shawn knew that it was signaling its own death. Once a Rugorian battle cruiser—one similar to the one Shawn was currently on—moved into position, he knew it was time. The vessel sent out several rounds from its mass cannon, neatly severing the Meltranian vessel in two before each half exploded in succeeding fireballs.
With one enemy ship down and two to go, Captain Voula gave the order to maneuver the fleet closer to the combined Unified-Kafaran forces. At their distance, Shawn could see the entire battlefield stretched out across two large windows. The Unified forces, huddled together on the right, were facing off against the two intruders. From the left, Shawn watched as the closest Meltranian warship fired its massive isotonic cannon, holing a Kafaran destroyer through and through, and disabling a Unified cruiser with one blast.
“How soon until we’re in weapons range?” Shawn asked eagerly.
“Three minutes,” Voula said as he watched the monitors and read the battle reports from his fleet. “No more. And our ships are completely spent of mass cannon rounds.”
Shawn felt helpless. He wanted to be in his fighter and out in space. At least then he’d have felt as if he were making a contribution. Out of the windows, he could see the fighters of both friends and foe twisting and twirling around the Meltranian ships. He wondered if Roslyn Brunel and the rest of the Rippers were out there. An image flashed in his mind, one he didn’t care to dwell on, and he quickly pushed it aside. Looking out the right window and scanning the ships there, he quickly found the carrier. The Duchess of York—the same class as the Rhea but with just enough external difference to tell the two apart—was there, launching and recovering fighters and rescue craft. So was the Kafaran flagship Shawn had witnessed during his last encounter with the Meltranians. Every other Sector Command vessel the Commander could see was far too small to be an additional carrier. He remembered the last report from Admiral Graves telling him the Rhea had been disabled. What was her current fate? Is she down for good? There was simply no way to tell. He pushed the thoughts aside, trying instead to focus on the task at hand—although he had very little to do at the moment.
“Sixty seconds,” a voice called out, but was rapidly becoming distant as Shawn’s attention was divided elsewhere.
Shawn looked to Melissa, who was busy helping Tausan at the weapons console. She was beautiful. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to hold her, to tell her that he loved her. That I love her? The thought was there, and as it lingered, he pondered it. The more he recycled it in his mind, the more resolute the feeling became. Yes, I do. He smiled as much to himself, then took a step closer to her, intent on telling her exactly what was on his mind—the battle be damned. That was when the Redemption took a direct hit and the ship rocked violently, knocking him from his feet in the process. Coming to his senses a moment later, he saw that he wasn’t the only one picking himself off the deck. Voula had fallen as well, as had a handful of bridge officers.
“We’re within the range of the Meltranians’ secondary batteries,” Voula said as he hefted Shawn from the deck. “It’s going to be bumpy from here on out, Commander.”
Shawn turned to Trent, who was helping out at one of the damage control consoles to his right. With his attention fully taken by his duties it made Shawn feel even less necessary. Sighing, Shawn turned his attention back to the forward windows. The Meltranian vessels were inching closer to the Unified forces, and it was only a matter of time before they fired another round of their powerful weapons. He was without a ship, without a fighter, without a command to give. What could he do but sit back and watch the events unfold before him? In short, Shawn Kestrel felt helpless, and he hated himself for it.
Then it hit him.
“We need to get on their stern.”
“What was that?” Voula asked, bracing himself against the vibrations in the hull from another salvo from the Meltranian vessel.
“We need to get behind them, take out their maneuvering abilities.”
“Put them between us and your fleet?” Voula asked, then smiled as the thought of doing so crossed his mind. “They’ll be trapped.”
Shawn nodded. “And have no way out.”
“But only if we close the gap quickly,” Voula acknowledged. “There’s still a considerable amount of distance between the aliens and your people.”
“Then we’ll just have to push them.”
As the Meltranian vessels got larger in the screen, Shawn could see that Voula was going over the options in his mind. “Shepherding a ship that large is going to be something of a feat, Commander Kestrel. Add to that fact that we’ll have two enemy vessels to herd simultaneously.”
“You saying your people can’t manage?” he asked brazenly.
Voula smirked, then inclined his head toward the helm console. “It’s not a job for someone who’s lacking experience,” he said with a smile. “Or audacity.”
“You offering me a job, Captain?”
Voula took a quick glance around the bridge. “You seem to have the only idle hands here, Commander. Besides, something tells me you wouldn’t mind taking orders from a bandit.”
“Well, you’re wrong on that one. I don’t take orders from pirates.”
“No?”
“No. But I do take them from friends.”
Voula smiled broadly. “Take your post, Commander. We’ve got some lambs to lead to the slaughter.”
*
Fleet Captain Ramos, having long since discarded his hat in the heat of battle, ran a hand through his thick black hair. The Duchess of York wasn’t taking direct fire from the Meltranians, but she was still incurring damage. As often happens in close space combat, one of the cruisers that had earlier linked up with the Duchess while in route to Osa’Mara had made a miscalculation as she tried to avoid enemy fire. The inexperienced helmsman, having not accounted for spatial drift, sent his ship directly into a minor collision with the Duchess, sheering off a layer of armor and quite a few sensor palettes and antennas in the process. While no one was hurt critically, there were a few bumps and bruises—to say nothing about the wounded pride of th
e young helmsman.
Even before that, the bridge and three decks below had lost main power after a several Meltranian fighters had broken through the outer defenses and landed several solid missile strikes against the Duchess’s hull. Air processing units were offline, and the entire bridge was bathed in the blue glow of emergency lighting. Now, far beyond the forward view port, Ramos could see his fighters and the ones carried over from the Rhea engaging the Meltranian. He was proud of them, each one a credit to the service and their uniform. He would welcome them home with honors—assuming there was a home to return to.
“Captain,” Samantha called from across the bridge. “The Rugorians did it!”
“You’ll have to be more specific, Samantha. To what are you referring?”
“The Meltranian ship in low orbit has been destroyed, sir.”
“That’s verified?” Ramos asked.
Ashlee Kidd quickly tied her long brown hair into a makeshift knot above her head, and wished it was within protocol to take off her uniform jacket. It’s sweltering in here. “Confirmed, sir,” she said, quickly bringing up the secondary sensors on her navigation display.
“Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Weberity reported from the operations console. “The chief engineer is bringing the backup bridge generators online now.”
I wonder how much longer it will take to—but the Captain’s thoughts were interrupted when the blue emergency lights were immediately replaced with the normal glow of the bridge lights flickering on. A second later, there was a series of clunks from the overhead, followed by the sound of cool air rushing into the space. Both Ashlee and Samantha breathed a heavy sigh of relief as they leaned back into their chairs.
Their relaxation was short-lived, as a series of bright explosions lit up the view ports. The destroyer Wellington had just been hit, and looking out at her shattered hull, Ramos held little hope any survivors would be found.
“What is the position of the Rugorians now?” Ramos barked.
“It looks like they’re moving into an attack posture astern of the enemy ships,” Samantha said without turning from her screen.
“Good. I would have suggested they do that same thing. I’m not sure what kind of support we can give them, but I want to be ready at a moment’s notice. Commander Weberity, have we launched all fighters?”
“Yes, sir. We’re bone dry. All we have left a squadron of heavy VTOL craft.”
Ramos knew the type. Heavy, poor maneuverability, and certainly the widest vehicle in their inventory. However, they were equipped with short-range weapons and a few missiles. They wouldn’t last long against the Meltranian interceptors, but they could still make a difference … somewhere.
“Get the Marine office in charge on the line. I want those ships out there supporting the rest of our people.”
“Are you kidding?” Weberity half-joked. “I’ve had the OIC breathing down my neck for the last ten minutes, wondering when I’ll give his people authorization to take off. He was afraid they were going to mutiny on him.”
Good people. Every one of them.
*
Shawn’s plan had worked flawlessly. With weapons blazing into the stern of the Meltranian vessels, the enemy ships were guided ever closer into the waiting arms of the combined human-Kafaran fleet. One of the alien vessels made an attempt to fire its main cannon once more, but the shot was poorly aimed, grazing the underside of a Sector Command destroyer and blasting out harmlessly into space.
When the Meltranians attempted to pull up and withdraw from the system, they exposed their underbellies to the Kafaran warships ahead of the Duchess. The Kafarans wasted little time in dissecting one alien ship, leaving the other to face off against two Sector Command cruisers that moved out from behind their ally’s protective screen. With cannons blazing, and fighters from the Duchess of York firing every missile in their arsenal, the last Meltranian vessel exploded in a shower of sparks and debris.
Within minutes of its destruction, the Redemption was receiving a communication from Fleet Captain Ramos on the Duchess.
“This is Fleet Captain Ramos. Well done, Captain Voula,” Ramos commended over the intercom. “On behalf of the Unified government, I’d like to formally extend the gratitude.”
“Thank you, Captain Ramos. You’re people here were … instrumental in our efforts. Were it not for them, we would not even be here.”
“Understood. What is the status of your fleet?”
“A handful of ships sustained moderate damage, but our casualties are light … all things considered.”
“We lost a handful of warships in the initial attack, as did the Kafarans. And one of the cities below has been devastated.”
Shawn saw a pained look cross Voula’s scarred face. “I’m sorry we could not make it here sooner, Captain Ramos. It is … regrettable.”
“We’re going to be sending assistance down to the planet within the hour. Do you require any—”
“The civilian population should be your primary concern, Captain,” Voula interrupted, then softened his tone. “Our problems can wait. Thank you.”
“Understood,” Ramos replied.
“Captain, we have some of your people on board, and I am sure they are anxious to return home.”
“We’ll make arrangements to have a shuttle sent over to get Commander Kestrel and his team.”
“Of course. I will inform our landing bay to stand by for your arrival. And should you need any assistance with the population below, we are—we were—not used to extending such pleasantries, but would be happy to supply anything your people might need.”
“The offer is accepted and appreciated, Captain Voula. We will undoubtedly call upon it soon. Ramos out.”
Voula signed off the channel, then turned to Shawn, who had gathered his people behind him. “The shuttle will be here shortly. I have much to do here, so I will not see you again in the near future. However, I’ll have one of my men escort you down to the landing bay.”
An armed guard appeared, his weapon holstered, and he waved a gloved hand toward the bridge doors. As Shawn and his people turned to leave, Voula halted them. “Commander Kestrel? A word, if you may.”
Shawn turned back to Melissa. “I’ll be right there.”
“Don’t take too long, hotshot,” she said with a smile.
“Worried I won’t come back?”
“No,” she laughed softly as she stepped closer to him. “I’m just worried about being flown away by someone I don’t trust. When I’m out there, no matter where that might be, I want to know that you’re the one behind the controls.”
He leaned in and kissed her. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes. “I—,” but she silenced him with a finger placed gently against his lips.
“You can tell me later.” Then she turned and left the bridge to wait out in the passageway.
Shawn turned back and stepped up to Voula, who extended a hand. Shawn took it and gave it a shake. “You sure you want to go back to all that?” Voula asked. “And by ‘that’ I don’t mean that lovely creature who seems rather taken with you.”
“Sector Command?”
“Yes.”
“They’re not perfect, but they’ve got a home for me.”
“So would we, Commander.” Voula then turned and waved Shawn to follow him to the most forward view port. Outside, a large Rugorian war cruiser hung motionless above Osa’Mara.
Shawn looked at the large, beautiful vessel for a long moment before turning to see a wide smile on Voula’s face. “For me?”
“If you choose it. In any case, a life with far more freedom than what Sector Command could offer.”
“And more rewards.”
Voula laughed. “It goes without saying. Be that as it may, we could use a man like you in our fleet.”
Shawn looked out to the cruiser, at its graceful lines, its powerful weapons. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“But you will not join us?”
Shawn turned away from the c
ruiser and looked at Voula. “I’ve got a few things I need to take care of before I hang up these wings again.”
“Retribution, Commander?”
Shawn nodded, then looked down to the scarred planet below. “More like absolution.” He then turned back to the captain, who was smiling once again. “We each have a place where we can make a difference, Fleet Captain. Right now, my place is with those people over there and in that uniform.”
Voula nodded in understanding. “Knowing how you feel about my people, I almost hate to say this, but I believe we are cut of the same mold, Commander Kestrel.”
“If that’s true, then how I feel about your people is going to rapidly change. What you did here today … what your people did … was—”
“Was necessary, Commander. And we will do so again, I assure you. I have a feeling this war is only just beginning.”
Shawn nodded. “I hope you’re wrong, but in any event, I’m glad to call you an ally.”
“And I you, Commander.”
“Shawn,” he offered, extending his hand once more.
“You may call me Ariah,” Voula said as he took the hand firmly. “Now go. We have much to do here, and you have your own people to attend to.”
Releasing his hand, Shawn turned to walk to the door. When it sprang open, he looked first at his old friend, Trent, and smiled. He then looked from Ambassador McDermott to the brave and fearless Colonel Tausan, then let his eyes finally fall on the woman he loved. She gave him a quizzical look, which he responded to with a wink. Yeah, this is where I need to be. This is where I make a difference.
“Let’s go home.”
… To be continued.
About the Author
Stephen was born in Los Angeles, California. The son of a second-generation deputy sheriff, he spent several hours each week after school (both grade and middle) at the local library. In high school, he was highly active in art, sometimes taking as many as three art classes per year. During his junior year he enrolled in journalism, where he produced a great many articles for the Opinion page. After high school Stephen joined the US Navy as a computer technology specialist, working on the West Coast with an anti-submarine and scouting squadron, and later on the East Coast on board a guided missile cruiser as part of the Enterprise battle group, where he wrote his first science fiction novel while on deployment to the Persian Gulf.
In the Presence of My Enemies Page 19