In the Presence of My Enemies (10 page)

   “Scan the far side of the hull once we are clear of the derelict.”

   Shawn skillfully backed his ship out the open hangar door and into space. With all the movement in the debris field, there seemed to be less maneuvering room than before. He slowly guided the ship to the far side of the wrecked carrier, deftly moving around several chunks of twisted remains.

   “There,” Trent said. “I’ve got something on the short-range sensors. It’s very weak.”

   As
D
came around one final section of debris, Tausan pointed a clawed finger at the view port. “It is there.”

   Shawn had to look twice to see what Tausan was pointing at
before he saw it: a small, irregular shape affixed to the hull, looking deceptively like the rest of the damaged carrier—save for the odd grayish color of its hull. It looked as if a mangled tree limb had embedded itself into the carrier at a near-forty-five-degree angle.

   “Destroy it, Commander.”

   Flipping a series of switches on the overhead, the vibrations in the deck plates under his feet told Shawn that the two laser cannons were extending from the Mark-IV’s undercarriage. A moment later, a sequence of lights to the left of his console flashed a brilliant green. “Firing.”

   Two beams of energy reached out from under the ship, impacting squarely with the Meltranian scout vessel. The first rounds blew the ship free of the
carrier’s hull, and two subsequent bursts from the cannons completely obliterated it.

   “Are there any more of those things hanging around?” Trent asked.

   “We’re not lingering to find out.” Retracting the weapons, Shawn brought the normal sensors back online. “Where’s the gate?” he asked, watching Tausan as he exited the cockpit.

   “Bearing two-seven-six, boss. About ten minutes from here.”

   “Get us there. I’ve got something to take care of. ” Shawn stood, exiting the cockpit with the intent of making it to his berthing compartment. Entering the lounge, Shawn saw that Tausan and McDermott were in the midst of a conversation.
The ambassador must have cornered him as soon as he left the cockpit.
Attempting to step past them, Shawn was stopped by McDermott.

   “Commander Kestrel, I’d like your full report on what happened over on that ship.”

   “I don’t have time, Ambassador,” Shawn said as he continued to the rear hatch. “Talk to the colonel.” It wasn’t until he felt a firm hand grasp his forearm that he stopped. He looked back, surprised to see that the ambassador was equally shocked by his blatant clutching.

   “You will
find
the time, Commander,” McDermott rounded. “I require more than just the colonel’s statement.” 

   “You’d do well to take your hand off me, Ambassador.”

   “I don’t react well to threats, Commander.”

   Shawn shrugged himself free of McDermott’s impressive grip. “There wasn’t anything over there except for death and more death. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but we’re a man down right now
, thanks to you and this little diversion. There’s a Marine over there who’s never coming home, and all he died for was a computer terminal set on self-diagnostic. I told you this was a bad idea, and I told you we should never have attempted to board that derelict. I’m only sorry the point had to be proven by the loss of an innocent life. Maybe you’ll keep that in mind the next time you think you have the right to tell me how to run my ship.” Shawn’s eyes shifted to Tausan, who remained motionless.
What did the colonel say that’s gotten McDermott all fired up?
   McDermott seemed unfazed by Shawn’s statement. His eyes, cold and emotionless, stared into Shawn’s. “In all honestly, Commander, I’m not entirely convinced you couldn’t have done something to save him.”

   Shawn stepped to within inches of the
ambassador, not entirely sure of what he was about to do. “We should never have been there in the first place. So you and your mission report can say whatever it likes. Just remember that you won’t be the only one filing. If you recall, I believe Agent Graves also had misgivings about boarding that ship. I’m sure the Unified Council will want answers about that.” Shawn turned and resumed his walk toward the aft end of the lounge. As the doors parted, he turned back to the ambassador. “Next time you think it’s a wise idea to grab me, I’ll let you know in no uncertain terms how much of a mistake that could be.” As he pivoted toward the now-open door, he was surprised to see Melissa standing on the other side. As he walked past her, she quickly stepped up behind him.

   “You want to tell me what that was all about?” she asked almost playfully.

   “I’m not a very good story teller.” Nearing the first of the two small cabins, Shawn entered his personal code. With a groan from some unseen cam, the door creaked open and the two entered. Melissa, curious about why they were there, stayed near the doorway as Shawn stepped over to a small locker at the foot of his bed. There was a rustling of something like glass, and Melissa watched as Shawn withdrew a bottle and two glasses, then stepped over to her.

   “Seems like an odd time for a drink,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

   Shawn poured two small glasses, handing one to Melissa, then capped the half-empty bottle and placed it in the garbage chute. Stepping to the wall-mounted intercom, Shawn pressed the control linking him to the cockpit. “Trent, do me a favor, buddy. Open the garbage chute for me, will you?”

   “You’re going to dump your trash here?” she asked in confusion.

   “We’re empty, save for that bottle.”

   There was a distinct hiss in the room, then a popping sound before Trent came over the channel. “All done, Skipper.”

   Melissa looked to Shawn, who seemed to be staring into his glass of whiskey. “What’s all this about?”

   “An obol
us for the dead,” Shawn said in a hushed tone. Looking to Melissa, he could see the idea was lost on her. “In ancient Greek mythology, a fare had to be paid to Charon for those wishing to cross the river Styx.”

   Intrigued, she leaned back on his bed. “And the river represented what?”

   “The boundary between the world of the living and the one of the dead. If the dead fail to pay the fee, their souls were said to wander the shores for a hundred years.” He then hefted his glass for her inspection. “So it’s my job to make sure that Sergeant Wilcox’s fee is paid in full—and any other fee owed by anyone lost in the battle that took place here.”

 
“That’s quite the romantic gesture,” she said with approval, and then slipped from the bed to stand beside him. “For Sergeant Wilcox,” she said, holding her glass to his. “He didn’t ask for what happened to him.”

   “To everyone who lost their lives out here. Thank you for answering the call, and for making the ultimate sacrifice.”

   After the two drank, a moment of silence fell between them, each wishing they could say something to one another, but unable to have the words emerge before Trent’s voice came out of the speaker mounted near Shawn’s bed.

   “We’re nearing the gate, Skipper.”

   “On our way,” Shawn called out, then turned to Melissa. Taking a deep breath, the words he wanted to say still hadn’t solidified, so all he could offer her was a light touch on her cheek. She reached up, taking his hand in her own, then kissed it softly.

   Once inside the cockpit, Shawn could see the jump gate clearly sitting just ahead of
Sylvia’s Delight,
itself flanked at a moderate distance by the hulks of two Kafaran warships and a plethora of ruined Sector Command interceptors.

   “I’ve got the navigation coordinates programmed into the gate, Skipper,” Trent said from the
copilot’s chair. “We can make the jump at any time.”

   “Tap into the gate
’s interspace transmitter and open a coded channel to the
Rhea
,” Shawn said as he slipped into the pilot’s chair. “It’s about time I let them know what’s going on.”

   “Sure thing.” Trent went to work establishing the link, one normally only used for emergency broadcasts or top priority military operations. Figuring it was both, Shawn took the chance of getting a reprimand for using the highly classified system. A moment later, the there was an audible beep in the overhead, telling Shawn the communications channel had been established.

   “
Rhea
, this is Commander Kestrel on board
Sylvia’s Delight
. Do you copy?”

   “Loud and clear, Commander.” It was the voice of Caitlin Hayes, the ship
’s flight officer and third in command.

   “We’ve got a serious status update here, Caitlin.”

   “Admiral Graves is here with me now, Commander. Go ahead.”

   Thinking that Krif would want to hear this is as well, Shawn cringed as the words formed on his lips. “Is the
captain there as well?”

   “Shawn, this is Admiral Graves.”

   Shawn’s ears perked at hearing the voice of his old friend. “Yes, Admiral?”

   “We’ve had an incident on
board the ship. The captain is tending to it.”

   “What’s happened?” Melissa asked in surprise.

   “An explosion, down in the primary jump drive control space. Our core is offline for the time being.”

  
An explosion?
“Casualties?” Shawn asked quickly.

   “Three technicians and the
chief engineer are dead. Seventeen more were critically injured when radiation began leaking from the compartment into adjoining spaces. They range from mild to—what Doctor Finly believes—terminal in a few cases.”

   “My God,” Shawn heard Melissa say almost inaudibly.

   “We’re cruising under normal propulsion now, but with the jump core offline, we’re not going to make it Osa’Mara before the Meltranians arrive,” the admiral continued. “Until she can get to a Sector Command dry-dock and be repaired, the
Duchess of York
will be taking over command duties for the
Rhea
. I’ll be transferring my flag there shortly, as well as taking some of the
Rhea
’s fighter and support squadrons to augment the
Duchess
’s defenses.”

   The
Rhea
was going to be out of commission for some time, which was going to make defending Osa’Mara all the more difficult. The
Duchess
’s strike group—while impressive—was somewhat small, with only two cruisers and as many destroyers to protect the fleet carrier. “Does Sector Command have anyone else in the area?” Shawn asked.

   “There’s a cruiser flotilla that’s eight hours from Osa’Mara, with two divisions of four ships each. Unfortunately, most of the crews are green. They’re going to link up with us just outside the Damara Valala system. That, in conjunction with some newly arrived ships from the Kafarans, should be able to hold Osa’Mara until help arrives.”

   “Meaning we have no choice but to succeed,” Shawn said dryly.

   Admiral Graves chuckled. “What’s your status, Commander?”

   Shawn gave William a summary of the events leading them to the derelict warship, the loss of Sergeant Wilcox and, in turn, the scuffle with the lone Meltranian and the vial of toxin Melissa was now carrying. William had listened impassively, and when Shawn had finished speaking, he looked to Melissa and silently asked if he’d forgotten to mention anything. She shook her head.

   “I’ll inform Fleet Admiral Hansen about this right away,” William said. “In the meantime, keep your wits about you, Shawn. I don’t need to remind you how dangerous the Rugorians can be, so don’t do anything foolish.”

   “Me?”

   “You,” Graves said sternly. “Just remember, we’re trying to make allies out of enemies here. I don’t expect them to welcome you with open arms, but don’t take that as an excuse to bloody their noses.”

   “Yes, sir. We’re preparing to make the jump now. I’ll contact you in twelve hours. Hopefully by then we’ll be on our way back with reinforcements.”

   “Understood. I’m looking forward to your next report. Graves out.” 

   Shawn turned to Melissa. “Better go strap yourself in, Angel.”

“Someone once said that if you compared your troubles or challenges with those of others, you would surely find that there are those whose troubles make yours look like minor inconveniences. While in most diplomatic circles that rings true, you should have been there that day on board
Sylvia’s Delight
. We had more than enough challenges to fill a space station.”

—
Ambassador Scott McDermott
A Modern Man’s Guide to Galactic Diplomacy, Vol. XVII

   The transition between the jump gates was nearly instantaneous, but it still left Shawn with a nauseating feeling in his gut. One moment
Sylvia’s Delight
was oriented at the small, multifaceted gate, the next there was a brilliant flash of light as Trent initiated the Mark-IV’s jump core. Space seemed to distort around the vessel, the stars undulating in inconceivable and indescribable ways, followed by another flash a second later as the ship was deposited at the requested coordinates. Just to the stern of the ship, another jump gate hung motionless, its duties as a guide temporarily fulfilled, waiting for the next traveler who would require its services.

   His mouth felt dry, as it normally did when exiting from jumps. Reaching for a nearby bottle of water, he turned to Trent, who was massaging his temples. “You al
l right, buddy?” Shawn asked.

   “This is one of those things I hate about space travel,” Trent moaned. “Jumps have always been killer on my noggin.”

   Shawn turned to the forward window and gazed at a large, dust-brown world just ahead of the ship. “Looks like Falorin,” he said to himself, but needed to check with the computer just to be sure. He could count on one hand how many times he’d jumped into the wrong area of space in his life, but wanted to leave nothing to chance when the future of humanity hung in the balance. “Computer?”

   “Yes, dear?” the Mark-IV’s computer cooed.

   “If it’s not too much trouble, could you please verify our location?”

   “Oh, I’d be delighted, Captain,” it responded almost joyfully.

   Shawn looked to Trent, who’d switched from rubbing his head to scratching his belly. “I’d really love it if you fixed the vocal processor when we get back.”

   “Are you sure? I mean, I kinda like it.”

   “Seriously?”

   Trent lolled his head from side to side. “It’s kinda sexy
. . . in a synthesized way.”

   “You need to hang out with your girlfriend more.”

   “Position verified, Captain,” the computer said in the sultriest tone Shawn had yet heard. “Current system location is Beta Parsis Two-Three-Seven. Present coordinates are three-four-four, mark two-one-one, mark seventeen degrees positive. We are in high orbit above the planet Falorin.”

   Shawn rubbed his face, helping to dispel the last remnants of jump nausea. “Any vessels in the area?”

   “Negative, dear.”

   The door to the cockpit opened and Melissa—with Ambassador McDermott close behind—entered the compartment. She looked out the window to the dusty world spinning before them. “Falorin?”

   “So the computer is saying,” Shawn replied.

   “We’re still a long way from our destination, Commander.” McDermott seemed as impatient as he was annoying, which made for an even more aggravating situation. “I trust we’ll be underway shortly?”

   “Our ETA at Rugor is still unchanged, Ambassador. We still have one more jump to make.”

   “Then let’s get on with it, Commander,” he said. “We have no time to take in the sites.”

   “We’re not taking in the sites. Look around for a minute and try to understand: this is a very old, very temperamental ship. It’s neither a cruiser nor a high-speed courier. The jump drives are tired and need to recharge, and to be perfectly honest, so do I.”

   “Are you implying that we are staying out
here
for the time being?”

   Shawn had just about had enough of this pompous ass. “I’m implying nothing, Ambassador. I’m stating a fact.”

   “Unacceptable!”

   “You’re welcome to get out and push, but Rugor is a pretty long way from here. Still, I’m not opposed to the idea
. . . if you’re asking my opinion on the matter.”

   Flustered, McDermott nonetheless temporarily backed down. “And how long are you
suggesting
we remain here?”

   “An hour, maybe slightly more. It’ll take that long for the drive to charge back up. Then we can be on our way.”

   McDermott nearly threw his hands up in disgust. “An hour? What about our timetables?”

   “We’ll meet them, possibly surpass them. We just need—”

   “Yes, yes,” McDermott dismissed with a wave of his hand. “An hour, I know.  Well, it appears I have little choice in the matter. Do whatever you must, Commander. I don’t want to remain here a moment longer than necessary, however.”

   “You have my word on it, Mister Ambassador,” Shawn said, holding his hand over his heart as he made the pledge. McDermott grunted, then turned his attention to the spinning world outside, and Shawn was wondering just when the
ambassador might decide to leave. “Perhaps you should check on Colonel Tausan, Ambassador.”

   “I’m sure the
colonel is just fine, Commander.”

   “That may be true, but I haven’t seen
him eat since he came on board. Perhaps—in the interests of interstellar relations—you should offer him something?”

   Melissa tuned her nose up at the thought of the foul
-smelling concoction that Tausan had earlier remarked was delicious.

   McDermott sighed as he took a long look at Falorin. “That’s very
. . . diplomatic of you, Commander, which in itself is quite extraordinary. Nonetheless, in this instance I think perhaps you’re right.”

   Shawn smiled in self-satisfaction. “I’m sure Trent here can show the
colonel how to operate the food terminal. That is, if you don’t mind?”

   Trent looked to Melissa, who was shaking her head emphatically. It looked as if he were going to be alone on this one. “Sure, Skipper,” he droned. Melissa replaced him in the
copilot’s seat, then watched as Trent ushered the ambassador from the cockpit as quickly as possible. As soon as the doors closed, she reached out and slapped Shawn hard on the shoulder.

   “Hey
!” he exclaimed, clutching at his arm. “What the hell was that for?”

   “You know damn well what that was for, Shawn. We don’t have to wait here for an hour. We don’t need to wait here for ten minutes, and you know it.”

   “What do you mean? Of course we do!”

   “I know for a fact that we’ve made multiple jumps in this ship without having to wait between them.”

   Shawn rubbed at the quickly forming bruise. “Yeah, well, that was before Krif and his grubby technicians got their hands on my jump core.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “Well, let’s just say that I hadn’t been operating my core exactly in specs up to that point. Captain Krif had his lackeys make sure that
D
was in prime shape before she left the
Rhea
last time, and that meant undoing a lot of safety bypasses Trent had put in place over the years. So what I said was true: we have ourselves an old ship, with an antiquated but reliable engine, and she needs to rest before we can make the next jump. Apology accepted.”

   “I hadn’t offered one yet.”

   “But you were going to,” he smirked, “and that’s what matters.”

   She smiled as her attention was drawn to the world outside. “You think you know me so well, don’t you?”

   “I’d like to think so.”

   “So would I. Which brings up something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, and I’m not sure I’ll get another few minutes alone with you before the end of the mission.”

   “Oh?” he asked, wondering what on Third Earth she had to say.

   “Well, I wanted to start by telling you—
,” she began, but her words were cut short by a violent shudder in the hull. One moment she was looking outside the window, the next her head was being jerked back into her seat, which was followed by an almost overlapping jolt that sent her head down toward the control panel. Thankfully she’d taken the liberty of attaching her safety harness. Had she failed to do so, her face would like have gone right through the panel.

   After the first jolt, Shawn’s quick reactions allowed him to firmly grasp both handles of the control st
ick with both hands. The second jolt, while it had rattled him in his seat, didn’t faze him much beyond that.

   “What’s going on?” Melissa shouted over the rattling of control panels and the squeaking of her seat.

   Shawn’s eyes frantically scanned the readouts, trying to decipher just what had happened. Every screen was awash in a jumble of numbers, every dial either pegged out or dead. He’d never seen his ship react this way to anything, and it scared the hell out of him. “I don’t know. The whole ship is going crazy.” He flipped a series of switches on the control panel to his left, hoping to get some reaction from the Mark-IV’s computer. “Computer?” he said after a moment, then repeated it louder once more.

   The once
-soothing feminine voice was now a low-pitched groan. “Yes, dear?”

   “Damage report?”

   “Yes, dear?” the computer asked again, this time slower, and lined with static.

   “That’s not good.”

   “What? What’s not good?” Melissa asked frantically.

   “The main computer is going offline. That’s bad.” He leaned back, craning his left arm behind him as he reached for the emergency power switch. Grasping the wide yellow handle firmly, he intended to simply pull the lever, but instead yanked it completely free of the control panel. With the emergency control
’s wires dangling like plastic spaghetti at its base, every monitor in the cockpit winked out. “Okay, this is very,
very
bad.”

   The intercom speaker between Shawn and Melissa crackled to life. “What the hell just happened?” It was Trent, and he was his usual irate self.

  
Thank God the comms are still working
. “You tell me! You’re the engineer,” Shawn barked.

   “I don’t have access to either engine control room. The safety interlocks on the doors are fused shut!”

   “Get them open manually if you have to! I need answers.”

   Outside, the planet Falorin came more fully into view.

   “Uh, Shawn?” Melissa said, raising a finger to the planet.

   It took only a moment to realize what was happening. “Positional control is down. We’re being pulled in by the planet
’s gravity.”

   “Do something!”

   “What do you think I’m trying to do? Order takeout?” He pulled firmly on the control handle, but only managed to achieve a slight increase in pitch. Turning the stick to either side was just as unproductive. The planet was getting closer, and in minutes they would reach the outer atmosphere. Shawn was frantically looking for the right switch to pull, playing out each of the ensuing scenarios in his mind and disregarding them in an instant. Without the main computer, it was going to be a bumpy ride—and very possibly a fatal one. That was when Trent’s voice came back over the intercom.

   “Neither engine control room is accessible. We must have had some kind of hull breach. I can’t force the doors. I’d need a laser torch and an hour just to get inside one of them.”

   “You’ve got three minutes,” Shawn said, trying with all his might to increase the ship’s pitch. Then another jolt reverberated through the hull, and
Sylvia’s Delight
dipped even farther into the Falorin’s gravitational well. “Make that two!”

   Temporarily giving up on trying to force the doors to the engine control rooms, Trent hurried into the cargo hold, ever thankful that the door leading there had somehow managed to jam itself in the open position. Reaching for a pry bar he’d only recently remembered was leaning against a frame rail, he hurriedly began pulling up the grating that lined the center of the hold.

   “Where’s that power?” Shawn’s voice echoed over the speakers in the hold.

   “I’ll bet you wish you’d stayed in bed,” Trent mumbled to himself as the last of four plates was jerked free and tossed aside. Running to a side cabinet, he pulled out several feet of transparent optical cable, a small splicer, then headed back to the opening in the floor. Unplugging several terminals, he quickly spliced in the new cables as he attempted to reroute power from the only two systems that seemed unaffected—life support and gravity control. As soon as the final cable was attached, he reached into the opening and pulled a lever he’d never dreamed he’d ever pull. It was music to his ears when the sound of the main drive engines began to hum through the hull.

   In the cockpit, nearly every screen came to life, and the lumbering Mark-IV quickly regained attitude and pitch control. Unfortunately it was already too late.