In the Presence of My Enemies (19 page)

   “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 Kafaran
s. And one of the cities below has been devastated.”

   Shawn saw a pained look cross Voula’s scar
red 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 tu
rned 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, it
s powerful weapons. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

   “But you will not join us?”

   Shawn turned away from the cruiser 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.

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.

Afterward, life got busy—as it usually does—and
 he didn’t pick up the pen for nearly a decade. He began to delve into fan fiction to practice his skills, producing several complete novels which were well received. He took the skills learned in those exploits and produced his first published novel,
The Army of Light
, in June of 2013. Stephen continues to work with the Navy, now as a civilian. When not working, he divides his time between hanging out with his wife, Jamie, writing, or tinkering out in the garage. Unless otherwise noted, Stephen does all his own graphic design work.