In the Presence of My Enemies (8 page)

   “Meaning?”

   Melissa tried to dismiss the words with a slight wave of her hand. “Oh, nothing serious or treaty-dissolving. He just has a certain opinion about the way the intelligence community is run, some of which I agree with, and others I don’t.”

   “And that aggravates you?”

   “Considering how much
you
aggravate me at times, having a disagreement with a Unified diplomat is only a minor annoyance.”

   “As much as I’d love to discuss that with you further, we’ve got a situation upstairs,” Shawn said, jerking his thumb
toward the cockpit door.

   Her interest sufficiently piqued to forget her frustrations, Melissa’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

   “We’ve picked up a minor energy reading on the scanners.”

   “From the jump gate?”

   “No,” he said in a more subdued tone. “This is something else.”

   It was rare for her to see Shawn worried about anything, and his uneasiness alarmed her. “And we’re going to investigate?”

   Shawn sighed, then cast a quick glance toward McDermott, who was intently staring at a small computer screen. “That’s not my call to make.”

   It was at that moment that Ambassador McDermott—for whatever reason—decided to look in Shawn’s direction.

   “Yes, Commander?” he asked from across the small compartment.

   Not wanting to panic the other members of the team—not that they were currently paying him any attention—Shawn jerked his head in the direction of the rear door leading to the crew berthing area. A moment later, when the door had firmly shut behind the ambassador, Shawn finally spoke up. “We’ve got an energy signature on the short-range sensors.”

   “What kind of signature?” McDermott asked.

   “I’m not entirely sure. It’s very faint.”

   “It couldn’t possibly be a life-form, could it?” McDermott asked without hesitation.

   “It’s highly doubtful.”

   “But, it
could
be?”

   Shawn could already see where this was going, and tried to steer the conversation away from its inevitable outcome. “It could be almost anything. I don’t think we should worry about—”

   “As representatives of the Unified Collaboration of Systems, we’re duty-bound to help anyone in distress, Commander. I’m sure you are aware of the regulations regarding—”

   Shawn stopped the ambassador with an upturned hand. “I’m very aware, Ambassador. However, as I said, I don’t think it’s anything we should concern ourselves with. We’re already pushing our luck with all the debris in the area. I highly suggest—”

   “You will change course immediately to investigate, Commander.”

   “With all due respect, Ambassador, I think we should try and raise the
Rhea
before we do anything rash,” Shawn said. “The gate is only a few minutes from here, and we can use it to get the authority to—”

   McDermott’s chest heaved out. “
I
am the authority here, Commander.”

   “Ambassador,” Melissa
quietly inserted into the conversation, “the commander is right, and I’ve learned to trust his judgment on these matters. This is a little too risky, given our orders to proceed to Rugor, and considering our timetables on the matter. This is too dangerous.”

   McDermott shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with both of you. That could be a Unified citizen out there who needs help.”

   “We’re a long way from Kansas, Dorothy,” Shawn quipped.

   “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

   “It means we are far removed from Unified space. Anyone who’s foolish enough to come out here alone would have to be half-cocked.”

   “
We’re
out here, Commander, in case you’ve forgotten.” McDermott seemed exceedingly satisfied with his comment, and Shawn wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face. “Besides,” the ambassador continued, “If it isn’t a Unified citizen, then it’s both my intention and my diplomatic duty to extend a hand to anyone out here who’s in trouble.”

   “Sector Command knows full well where we are and where we’re going,” Shawn said, addressing the first part of McDermott’s statement. “And, as I said, it’s very likely nothing. You’ll be risking the safety of the ship and the crew if we get any closer to that signal.”

   “You’re in charge of piloting the ship, Commander, meaning
you
are in charge of our safety. I don’t want to hear any more arguments on the matter. I’m in command of this mission. Now take us closer to the signal.”

    Shawn eyes turned toward Melissa, and the expression she wore told him he’d already lost this particular round to the
ambassador. “It’s your funeral, Ambassador.”

* * *

   “Move us in just a
bit
closer,” Shawn said softly.

   “If I get any closer we’ll be wearing that thing like a suit,” Trent grunted through clenched teeth.

   Back on the control deck, Shawn had slipped into the pilot’s seat beside Trent, who up to this point had been doing an admirable job of piloting
Sylvia’s Delight
through the debris of the battlefield. As the ship neared the mysterious signal’s origin, Shawn thought it best to handle the more delicate maneuvers himself.

   “Al
l right, I’ll take over from here. Besides, you’ll need to be down in the engine room when something goes wrong.”

   “You mean
if
something goes wrong, right?”

   “No.”

   Letting out a nervous sigh, Trent moved out of the copilot’s seat and toward the rear door. As it opened, he and Melissa slipped past one another in the small doorway.

   “Just like old times?” she jested.

   “God, I hope not,” Trent groaned without giving her a second glance.

   When the doors had closed, Melissa slipped into the now
-vacant seat beside Shawn. “What was that all about?”

   “It’s just Trent. You know how he can be.”

   “Petulant?”

   “Well, space travel does have that effect on him.”

   Melissa nodded, then turned her attention outside the ship. Before them was the gutted remains of a Unified ship, with several more floating in a semicircle that the Mark-IV now found itself in the center of. The bow looked to have been wrenched free, and the appearance of the mangled stern gave every indication that the ship had suffered a partial jump drive meltdown at some point in her death throes.

   “This is where the signal is coming from?”

   Shawn nodded. “That’s it, all right. Looks like a light carrier.”

   “And the signal itself?”

   “Constant,” Shawn said, verifying the readings once more on the sensor. “Hasn’t fluctuated once since we locked on to it.” Reaching up, he indicated to one of the overhead monitors and the large spike being displayed on it.

   “Any ideas as to what it might be?”

   “It’s not natural, I can tell you that much.” Reaching for another control, Shawn flipped a series of switches. “Computer, are we close enough for a detailed scan of the hull?”

   “Affirmative,
Captain
,” the synthetic female voice replied soothingly. “However, latent radiation will cause a slight deviation in spectrographic analysis output.”

   “That’s fine. Begin scan.”

   “Are you sure, hon?” the computer asked, seeming quite concerned about Shawn’s request. “It won’t be pretty.”

  
Are you serious? Still with the “hon” crap?
“Just do it.”

   Despite her anxiety, Melissa found herself chuckling. “You
do
have a way with computers, don’t you?”

   “Trent was supposed to wipe the memory a few days ago.”

   “Well, in his defense, we
have
been pretty busy out here, what with you getting promoted and me . . . I don’t know . . . being put in jail.”

   “You’re not going to let that one go, are you?”

   “Would you?” she asked, then thought better of it. “Forget I said anything.”

   “Done.”

   As the remains of the Unified vessel filled the forward window, Shawn’s eyes scanned the battered hull. He caught something just out of the corner of his eye, but his attention was drawn to the sensor screen when the computer’s voice crooned out to him. “Captain, there is a vessel attached to the hull of the carrier.”

   “Can you identify it?”

   “Vessel is classified as an Akturian salvage ship. Standard complement of three.”

   “Grave robbers,” Shawn said under his breath, disgusted at the thought of anyone desecrating the remains of the battlefield.

   “Dangerous?” Melissa asked.

   “The Akturians?” he snorted. “The only danger they pose is to themselves. I’ve never run into a more discombobulated species in my life. Every time I see one of their ships I’m amazed they ever collectively made it into space.” Shawn typed a series of commands into the computer, and was rewarded with a schematic of the salvage vessel. “Computer, are you getting any life readings?”

   “Negative, dear. However, there is sufficient organic material on board the other vessel to account for two bipedal standards.”

   “Bodies?” Melissa said, leaning close over Shawn’s shoulder to look at the readings herself.

   There was a strong scent of her jasmine perfume, and Shawn found it moderately distracting. “Probably.”

   The memory of her ordeal on
board the
Icarus
surfaced in her mind, but she quickly pushed it aside. “Then we will need to investigate.”

   “Is that the
ambassador talking, or the OSI?”

   Melissa turned her head, then kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Both,
Commander
.”

   “I don’t like it.”

   “Neither do I, Shawn, but we have our orders.” She ran her fingers under his chin. “Both of us.”

   Sighing in defeat, Shawn directed the scanners at the carrier. He was surprised to find one of the hangar bay doors gaping open. “Computer, is that area stable enough to land?”

   “Stress analysis indicates a sufficient amount of tensile strength remains for a secure landing. Activation of the magnetic landing system will be required.”

   “We’re going inside?” Melissa asked.

   Shawn understood her concern, and the fear that laced her question. “You said it yourself; we don’t have much of a choice. If the area is stable enough to land on, we’re not going to have an excuse to give to the ambassador.” He turned to her, their lips now inches apart. He took the opportunity to rapidly close the distance and kiss her lightly. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to remain on board this time?”

“
There were an enormous number of reasons why the UCS and the Kafarans’ Army of Light needed to form an alliance against the Meltranians, but I can sum them up in for you in two very simple statements. The first, a quote from Sun Tzu (544 Old Earth calendar BC), says, ‘
the reason the enlightened prince and the wise general conquer the enemy whenever they move, and their achievements surpass those of ordinary men, is foreknowledge.’ The other proverb, whose origin fails me, is ‘never bring a gun to a knife fight.”

—Admiral William Graves (Ret.),

The Meltranian Invasion
: A History of Galactic of Warfare, 2
nd
Edition

   Under Shawn Kestrel’s expert hands, and with Trent once again in the copilot’s seat for backup,
Sylvia’s Delight
glided inexorably into the hangar of the former Sector Command carrier. Shaw was reminded of the experience not long ago when he piloted the vessel into the stricken remains of the once-proud cruiser
Icarus
on a mission not too dissimilar from the one he now faced. Was this to be a rescue mission as the last one had been? Would they find a former crewman hanging onto life—as they had with Lieutenant Garcia?
No
, Shawn mused. It was highly unlikely, even more remote than when they had found the
Icarus
’ former sensor officer hanging on by a thread in a tattered environmental suit. This new ship, whatever her name once was, was long dead—along with any of the crew that had perished in the battle that waged outside the confines of her hull.

   The power reading they were searching for was definitely coming from
the Akturian salvage ship; Shawn’s sensors told him that much. Unfortunately, with her docking ring attached firmly to the hull of the carrier, the only way to investigate further was to enter the Akturian vessel from the inside. Shawn only hoped the dangers involved in landing inside the old carrier were worth the risk he was taking.

   As the Mark-IV glided slowly toward its intended landing area, Shawn flipped on the exterior lights. The bay was nearly empty, with a lone Seminole fighter lashed to the deck on the left side. When
D
’s landing pads touched down on the thick steel deck of the hangar bay, Shawn activated the magnetic landing system. With the ship now firmly attached to the deck, he requested the computer make one final scan of the interior of the bay.

   “Habitation readings are space-normal,
dear
,” the female voice said. “Environmental suits will be required for extravehicular operations.”

   “And the rest of the ship too, I imagine,” Shawn said under his breath, but the computer picked it up and responded accordingly.

   “Sensor scans are showing minute power generation signals nearby.”

   Shawn narrowed his eyes at the screen. “And why didn’t you report this before?” he asked in a parental tone.

   “Reading this faint were too weak to identify until the ship was within proximity,” the computer replied matter-of-factly.

   “Anything else you’d like to report?”

   “Nothing noteworthy, Captain.”

   Trent unbuckled himself from the copilot’s seat and began to move aft. “I think I’ll head down to the engine room now, if you don’t mind. There’s less chatter down there.”

   Shawn likewise moved out of his chair. “I really do need you to look at
D
’s memory banks. I don’t like the way the ship is acting.”

   “You know, I’ve noticed that she’s a little testier than usual.”

   Shawn remembered a time when Trent had taken to making some manual adjustments to
D
’s flight control computer. The ship didn’t speak to him for a week afterward. “Have you been tinkering with her gyros again?”

   Trent turned and held up his index finger in a defensive gesture. “That was one time
—
one time
—and I
never
did that again.”

   “Then what’s going on?”

   “I don’t know,” he said, waving his hands over his head. “Maybe she’s spent too much time talking to the
Rhea
’s main computer. You know how it is when girls start talking. First it’s just schematics and debugging routines, but pretty soon it’s all about how their men never come home on time for dinner.”

   Shawn folded his arms across his chest. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with you and Ensign McAllister, would it?” he asked, referring to Trent’s infatuation.

   “No, we’re fine . . . just . . . fine.”

   “Good, because I need you fully focused right now. In case you need reminding, we aren’t at the Intergalactic Ho
use of Pancakes out here,” Shawn said, jerking his thumb toward the view port. “Just keep the ship together in one piece while I’m gone, and make sure the engines stay warm.”

   “That’s easy for you to say. You won’t have a Kafaran
colonel breathing down your neck.”

   “You’re kidding, right?” Shawn chuckled. “You don’t think I’d leave him on
board when I’m not. No way, man. He’s coming with me.”

   “And Wilcox too, I imagine.”

   “You imagine right,” Shawn nodded. “Melissa will be here with you, and the ambassador as well. Having said that, I’m not entirely sure you’re getting the best end of this deal. You sure you don’t want to come out there with me?”

   “Are you kidding
?” Trent snorted. “After what Melissa told me about what happened on the
Icarus
?”

  
You mean the part where I saved her life, or the part where I kissed her?
“When did she tell you about that?”

   “When I visited her
. . . while she was in the brig.”

   “You went and—”

   “Yeah, sure I did,” Trent said defensively. “Just to . . . you know . . . see if she needed anything.”

   “And what did she tell you?”

   Trent scratched at the back of his neck, a gesture Shawn had always known was a stall tactic. “You really want to know?”

   Shawn folded his arms once more. “I do.”

   Trent swiftly reached out and slapped Shawn across the face. After a moment, when his captain didn’t hit him back, Trent looked at Shawn sheepishly. “You don’t seem surprised.”

   “Well, it’s just that I got that message already, which could only mean one thing.”

   “What’s that? That she really,
really
doesn’t like you?”

   Shawn shook his head. “No. It means you hit like a girl.”

   “I know,” Trent said, cocking his head in shame. “My bark has always been worse than my bite.”

   Shawn laughed, then patted his friend on the shoulder. “I won’t tell anyone.”

   “I’m pretty sure everyone already knows.”

   “I’m certain you’re right.”

   “That’s comforting,” Trent said with an exaggerated eye roll.

* * *

   Inside the small airlock just aft of the berthing compartment, Melissa was standing idly by as Shawn donned the last few pieces of his reflective environmental suit. Sergeant Wilcox, the stout Unified Marine, was fully suited, his lethal pulse rifle held at the ready against his chest. Outfitted with everything except their helmets, the two men looked at Colonel Tausan. The Kafaran had removed the majority of his uniform, most of which was more ceremonial than functional. Gone was the flowing crimson cape and robe-like outer coverings. What remained was a dark, form-hugging material, covered in strategic points by a flexible armor.  

   Tausan looked from one human to another before responding to their gaze. “Our bodies can withstand the vacuum of space for a short time without the need for specialized equipment.”

   Shawn had heard as much in the form of rumors, but had never witnessed the spectacle first hand. “How long is a short time? I don’t want to have to haul your body back to the ship.”

   The Kafaran officer grunted, and it was nearly impossible to tell which human he was looking at with his red, pupilless eyes. “By human standards, it would be just over three hours.”

   “Is that going to be enough time, Commander?” Wilcox asked, his voice now muffled by the helmet he had just placed on.

   Shawn fought the urge to shrug. “Let’s hope so.” Turning to Melissa, he reached out a hand that she slowly grasped in her own. “Trent will be monitoring us the whole time.”

   “And so will I.”

   “I’ll call every fifteen minutes.”

   “You’d better.”

   Shawn offered a weak smile, then placed his helmet on and locked it onto the collar with a slight twist. He gave her a thumbs up, to which she smiled and exited the compartment to stand near the airlock controls. When the door had sealed itself, she wasted little time in depressurizing the compartment. Shawn looked to
Wilcox, who was still standing at the ready. He then turned to Tausan, wondering if the Kafaran’s rough exterior would show any sign of discomfort in the now airless space. How the alien could hold its breath for three hours wasn’t as much of a mystery. There were any number of Terran species of mammals and amphibians that could hold their breath far longer than three hours, and many more alien species that could do the same. With no outward side of discomfort on the colonel’s pallid, hairless face, Shawn opened the door leading into the Mark-IV’s hold. Moving through the nearly empty space, the trio made their way to
D
’s rear cargo hatch.  

   “Everyone ready?” Shawn asked. Wilcox responded with the requisite
“affirmative,” and Tausan merely nodded his head, unable to speak in the airless void.

   When the ramp was fully extended, Wilcox was the first out, moving slowly but efficiently toward a position just aft of the Mark-IV. His rifle now held in an alert stance, he signaled for Shawn and the
colonel to make their way out. Shawn reached down, verifying for the third time that his pistol was charged, then made his way down the ramp to Wilcox’s position.

   Raising the computer on his wrist closer to his face, Shawn keyed in a link to
D
’s communication system. “Trent, the computer said there was a faint energy reading nearby. Think you can convince it to let me know where the signal is coming from?”

   “Stand by,” Trent’s voice called out from the headset in Shawn’s helmet. “The signal is about thirty feet to your left, near the edge of the hangar door.”

   “That was quick,” Shawn said, turning to the indicated direction.

   “What can I say? I have a way with computers.”

   Shining his helmet-mounted light in the direction of the hangar door, Shawn caught the glint of something metallic near the large doorframe. “I’ve got something.”

   Wilcox was the first to respond, stepping quickly past Shawn as he headed for the object with his weapon raised.

   Shawn looked over his shoulder to see Tausan looking in the direction of the Marine, but then turned his attention back to Wilcox, who had arrived at the edge of the hangar bay. “What do you have, Sergeant?”

   “Looks like a droid of some kind, sir. Judging by the types of fixtures attached to its arms, I’d say it’s a modified cargo robot.”

   Careful not to overshoot his target, Shawn shuffled his magnetic boots to get a closer look at the robot. “Can you tell how long it’s been active?”
   With one hand gripping his rifle, Wilcox reached out and entered a series of commands into the small keypad on the droid’s back. “I can’t decipher the display text, but the graph indicator shows that a quarter-charge is present. It looks like it activated the hangar manual door release and then just . . . stopped.”

   “That was probably the last instruction it received,” Shawn said, turning back to the nearly empty hangar bay.

   “Do you think whoever left this here was trying to get their ship inside the carrier?”

   The light on Shawn’s helmet fell on the war-weary Seminole fighter just forward and to the left of
Sylvia’s Delight
. “Or trying to get something out.” He bounded over to the fighter to give it a closer inspection. Holding up his computer, Shawn performed a detailed scan of the craft. The readings indicated that the Seminole was likely a hangar queen—a craft that had long passed her useful life as a fighter and was being cannibalized to support more capable ships. Outwardly, the craft was remarkably intact, but a more detailed scan showed that most of her internal conduits, computers, and all weapon systems had been removed, making the ship all but useless.  “If this is what they were after, then they were going to leave empty-handed. This thing wouldn’t be worth its weight in scrap materials.” Glancing at a spot near the edge of the fighter’s canopy, Shawn could see three finger-shaped furrows made into the thin layer of ice surrounding the craft. Shawn turned back to Wilcox and the Kafaran standing beside him. “Power down that droid and move it into
D
’s cargo hold. The techs on the
Rhea
may be able to extract something useful from its databanks when we get back.”