In the Presence of My Enemies (13 page)

   “We’ve had this conversation before, Makau,” Hast replied calmly, the warm alcohol soothing his aching throat. The accursed sand of this planet had worked its way into the captain’s lungs over the past six months. During the last several weeks, he had begun to have coughing fits as his body tried to expel the particle-size
d invaders, and he longed for the wet, humid climate of Rugor for relief. Desperate to find any cargo that would bring him back to his home world—and into the good graces of the House of Dracton—he would do almost anything to get it.

   “One of these days we’re not going to make it back,” Makau said, folding his arms defiantly. “This is not the life I envisioned when I joined this House.”

   “This is not the life
any
of us envisioned,” the captain replied and finished with a fit of coughs. “We do what we must to ensure the longevity of our people.”

   “We’re already on the brink of civil war with our own people,” Makau spat. “And now we risk an all-out assault by Sector Command. It is foolish to continue this madness.”

   “Sector Command,” Hast said with a raspy chuckle. “Trained dogs, the lot of them. We’ve bested them before.”

   “We were lucky,” Makau corrected. “There was only one small cutter, and the
Golden Storm
was faster. We barely got away with our skins intact, and what did we have to show for it? A cargo hold full of useless trinkets.”

   “That’s what we get for boarding a Minosian freighter.”

   “No. That’s what we get for being greedy.”

   Hast took another drink. This time, the liquid did little to alleviate the dryness in his throat. “You are a good friend, and our campaigns together have, at times, been quite successful and profitable. However, don’t
fool yourself into believing that I’ll continue to remain silent about your outbursts. The House of Dracton is all that matters, not our personal feelings on the matter.”

   Makau sighed, then cast his eyes to the floor. “We squabble for scraps while the House of Fiefs and the Rugorian Protectorate eat like
kings.”

   “The
protectorate is no different than Sector Command,” Hast scoffed at the reference to Dracton’s hated enemies. “In fact, they are worse. And their
pets
, those bastard Fiefs . . . their ships are no match for ours in any arena.”

   “What they lack in equipment, they make up for in leadership,” Makau said, carefully gauging Hast’s reaction. “That is why we have yet to subvert them.”

   “Our people will
not
stand for unification with the greater masses of this galaxy,” Hast replied grandly. “And that includes a truce with the Unified Collaboration. We are free, and we will remain so, not under the thumb of any government . . . even one of our own making. If the protectorate fails to see that, they will perish.”

   “And, in
an attempt to do that, Rugor will spiral into civil war. Rugor is
dying
, Captain.”

   “Rugor will go on, and so will our people, Makau.” The captain sighed, quickly feeling fatigued from their debate. “You will see, old friend. I only wish we had allies on our side.”

   “Allies?” Makau laughed. “Like who? Who would join us in eradicating our own people?”

   “The Kafaran
s, if they knew what was good for them.”

   Makau shook his head in disappointment. “That allegiance died a long time ago. Besides, they have their own problems to deal with.”

   Hast nodded slowly. “I’ve heard those same rumors.”

   “Regardless, siding with the devil is no better than an all-out confrontation with Sector Command. Rugor was fortunate the Galactic War ended when it did. I fear what the Kafaran
s would have done to us had they been the victors.”

   “Partners, we would have called it.”

   “Masters, I think, would have been the correct term.”

   “It’s all academic at this point,” Hast began. “We can talk about this after we get underway. We need to get to the ship right now and—
,” but the rest of his sentence was interrupted by a message coming in from one of the guards. “Yes?” the captain asked after pressing the intercom button on the control panel.

   “Captain, there is a group of trespassers heading this way on foot from the top of the western ridge.”

   Bolting from his chair, Hast grabbed a pair of nearby binoculars and peered out the large window. Likewise, Makau turned and began to scan the horizon with his eyes. Hast craned his head from left to right, looking for the distant interlopers. Catching a glint of something metallic, the computerized viewer focused and enhanced the target. “I see them,” Hast breathed triumphantly.

   “What do you see?”

   “It looks to be four humans, three males and a female, with one on a stretcher and supported by the two males. Behind them . . . is a
Kafaran
. He has a gun, and has it pointed in the direction of the humans.”

   “They are his prisoners?” Makau asked in surprise.

   “It would appear so. They are probably the survivors of the craft our scouts spotted yesterday.”

   “Captain Hast,” the voice asked from the intercom. “Should I eliminate them?”

   A plan quickly formed in Hast’s mind, one that would surely get him the rewards and prestige he wanted, to say nothing about getting him off this planet. “No. Bring them to me, alive. All of them.”

* * *

   “Do you honestly think this is going to work?” Melissa asked in disbelief.

   Stepping slowly down the slippery slope, Shawn hazarded stumbling down the hill and craned his head behind him to look at her. “Honestly, I don’t think it has a chance in hell.”

   “Then tell me why on Third Earth you agreed to it.”

   “Because it was the best we could come up with.”

   “Keep quiet,” Tausan shouted from behind them. “I do not wish to betray our ruse.”

   “That’s easy for you to say,” Trent quipped. “You don’t have a gun pointed at your back.”

   “Kafarans aren’t known for taking bothersome prisoners,” Tausan replied. “I may have to shoot you to keep up our façade.”

   “You’re kidding, right?” Trent laughed nervously. “I think your sense of humor
is
improving. What do you think, Skipper?”

   “I don’t think he was kidding,” Shawn replied dryly, which elicited a glare from Melissa. “How’s the
ambassador doing, by the way?”

   Melissa, who had been walking beside the stretcher supported by Shawn and Trent, looked down
at the sleeping diplomat. “He’s out cold, and I have to say that I’m glad for it. Who knows what kind of fit he’d be raising over this plan.”

   “That’s for sure,” Shawn agreed. “One things for certain
: he’s going to be mad as hell when he wakes up and realizes what happened.”

   “I told him I was giving him a mild sedative to ease the pain,” Melissa said. “He didn’t ask if it was going to knock him out, so I didn’t volunteer the information.”

   “A very cunning tactic,” Tausan grumbled. “You humans continue to surprise me. You would make a fair Kafaran.”

   “I’m not entirely sure that’s a compliment,” Trent whispered, yet was still overheard by the Colonel’s well-tuned senses.

   “Fear not, Sergeant. I’ll only shoot you if it is absolutely necessary . . . which it is quickly becoming.”

   Two hundred yards ahead, Shawn caught sight of the Rugorians
’ desert skimmer humming to life. It hovered for a moment before slowly moving forward, then abruptly turned to intercept them.

   “Looks like we caught their attention,” Shawn said over his shoulder.

   “Indeed it does, Commander,” Tausan replied. “Now kindly shut up and keep moving.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend? I say bull. He’s my friend when he proves it to me and not a moment before. The biggest problem with scientists is that they think there is some big, great purpose to the universe . . . that everyone out here was created to get along with one another. The reality couldn’t be further from that observation. I mean, it may look like a human, it may act like a human—hell, it may even talk like a human—but anyone who knows anything about anything out here in the void will tell you that a Mondogarim has one thing on its mind—feeding you to its children.”

—Vice Admiral Richard P. Krif

Commander,
Plans and Policies Division, Sector Command Station 27, Garus-Theta Quadrant

Broken Spheres
: A Semi-Illustrated Guide to the Collapse and Rebirth of the Unified Collaboration of Systems.

   After Shawn and the others had been escorted to the topmost portion of the outpost under armed guard, they were quickly shoved into a small anteroom to await their fate. Curiously, Tausan and Melissa had been sequestered from the rest, leaving Shawn and Trent to watch over the still-unconscious Ambassador McDermott in the small office. With the ambassador’s stretcher on the floor, Shawn leaned against a battered desk as he watched Trent impatiently pace the room, the soles of his boots squeaking with each rapid turn.

   “Would you please stop that
?” Shawn asked. “You’re making me nervous.”

   “You’re nervous? That’s funny,” Trent spat as he continued to move around the room. “How do you think I feel?”

   “We’ll be fine.”

   Trent stop
ped and whirled toward Shawn. “And just how do you know that, Commander
sir
?”

   “Because we aren’t dead yet.”

   “Just so you know, that’s not as comforting as it sounds. They can still kill us.”

   “Tausan and I were willing to take that chance.”

   “Tausan,” Trent retorted with a huff, then continued to pace. “I still can’t believe you’re taking orders from that . . . that
Kafaran
.”

   “You
’d best get this straight, okay? I’m not taking orders from anyone here, least of all the colonel. That being said, I’m giving him a little latitude here because I think he can help us.”

   “Really?” Trent asked in disbelief. “How?”

   “The Kafarans and the Rugorians were allies once, which is more than I can say for the Unified Collaboration. That alone gives him an ‘in’ with these people who would just as soon feed us humans to the dogs.”

   Trent shook his head, looked as if her were about to say something, then shook it again. “I just hope you’re right about this.”

   “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

   “What about Melissa? Why do you think they separated her from us?”

   Shawn shrugged. “My first thought would be simply because she’s a woman. They may not have seen one of those in a while, and they may try to take advantage of that.”

   Trent looked at Shawn for a long moment before letting a smile creep across his face. “I feel sorry for the first guy
who tries to put his hands on her.”

   “Yeah, I’m not too worried about her, either,” Shawn agreed with a
laugh.

* * *

   Captain Hast looked at Tausan questionably. “A very likely story,
Colonel
.”  

   Tausan had just spent the better part of the last thirty minutes detailing, inasmuch as he could remember, how
Sylvia’s Delight
had fallen from the sky. Of course, left out were the parts dealing with Sector Command or their unfolding mission to Rugor. Instead, Tausan had spun a tale of a trade negotiation gone wrong. He’d painted Shawn as the proverbial villain, Melissa and Trent as his unwilling accomplices, and the wounded McDermott as the innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. By the look on Captain Hast’s face, Tausan wondered to himself if he had overlooked any detail, or if he’d made the mistake of repeating himself too often.

   “Kestrel and his people are my prisoners,” Tausan said, leaning across the small table toward the ruddy Hast. “All I require is access to a transmitter so that I can get back to my people.”

   “We’re not in the business of making our location known,” Hast said with a smile, then took a sip from a nearby libation. “Sending a high-powered signal from here to Kafaran space would certainly do that.”

   “The signal need not propagate to Kafaran space,” Tausan replied, playing a card that Shawn had mentioned the
colonel might need.

   “Oh?”

   “There is a patrol squadron of Kafaran frigates two sectors from here. A signal to them would be well within the standard range for your transmitter, I assume.”

   Hast licked his lips, then shot a quick glance at First Mate Makau
, who had propped himself up on a far-off doorway. Makau seemed nervous, and it was very likely that he’d guess what his captain was about to do. Hast looked back to Tausan as he leaned back casually. “I will have to confer with my first mate.”

   Stepping away from the table, Hast sauntered over to Makau, leaving Tausan alone on the far side of the room. “What do you say to that, Makau?” Hast whispered.

   “I say we give him what he wants and be done with this.”

   “Do you fear him?”

   Makau looked to Tausan, who was otherwise engaged with examining a wall-mounted oxygen monitor. “The Kafarans are a dangerous lot, and we have no assistance out here. I do not wish to be in league with this one, let alone the crews of a handful of frigates that could easily dispatch us.”

   “He lies, Makau. Don’t you see that?”

   First Mate Makau looked unconvinced. “How can you be certain of that?”

   “We’ve had sensor drones out there for weeks,” the captain said, hooking a thumb in the direction of the sky outside. “If those Kafaran ships came within two sectors of here, we would have been alerted to it.”

   “Perhaps they sit outside the range of our scanners and wait.”

   Hast dismissed Makau with a wave of his hand. “You’re beginning to sound like my grandmother, paranoid to the core.”

   “Better to be cautious than dead.”

   “I say there are no Kafarans out there. I say this
colonel is a liar.”

   Makau looked to the Kafaran again, who had since moved to looking out one of the large windows afforded the upper portion of the outpost. “Whether he is lying or not, I say this is a mistake.”

   “But surely you must realize what this is, Makau? This is what we have been waiting for,” Hast said in a triumphant whisper, almost loud enough to give away their conversation.

   “Meaning what, exactly?”

   “This is our means to go home.”

   Makau’s face contorted in confusion. “The House of Dracton will never welcome us home with an empty cargo hold.”

   The captain grimaced. “They will, if we have prisoners with us.”

   “Prisoners?” Makau all but yelled, but seeing that the outburst failed to gain the attention of the Kafaran, he lowered voice once more. “Are you out of your
mind
? We don’t take prisoners. The Code strictly forbids it.”

   “But these are not just any prisoners. They are
political
prisoners. If the Kafaran is who he claims to be, he will be worth his weight in gold for his military secrets alone. Surely the House leaders of Dracton will see that.”

   “I
, for one, would agree that they are desperate to gain the upper hand over the House of Fiefs, but I do not believe they will share your enthusiasm.” He stole another glance at the Kafaran, who was now studying the corner of the room with great interest. “We could end up in a much worse position than if we just left them here . . . or disposed of them altogether.”

   Hast put a hand on the
first mate’s shoulder. “To get off this heap of sand, I would chance it. Was it not you who was saying that a mission into Unified space would be suicide? Is this not a better alternative?”

   Makau began to waver as he considered the captain
’s proposition. He weighed his words heavily before he spoke, knowing that they would seal his fate no matter what course they took. “There
might
be a chance to convince the House leaders, but I believe it to be slim.”

   Hast almost laughed triumphantly. “Then it is settled, is it? We will return to Rugor?”

   Makau didn’t respond verbally, instead nodding his approval slowly.

   “Excellent, Makau. This will be our most profitable mission yet. In fact, the House may even see fit to give you a command of your own for your troubles.”

   In fact, that was likely one of the last things Makau wanted. To be the captain was to constantly put oneself in harm’s way, bowing to the needs of the House leaders at every turn. A life of servitude was not what he’d wanted those many years ago when he began this journey. Now, with his people on the precipice of civil war, he wanted nothing more than to settle on some backwater planet and live the rest of his days in peace. “We will see, Captain.” At the sound of the compartment door opening, Makau turned to see who had entered.

   There stood the ship
’s third officer and the engineer, both looking the worse for wear, with the human female close behind them. The third officer had a busted lip and a blackened eye. The engineer was shuffling with a limp.

   “What happened to you two?” the captain asked in surprise.

   “He tried to question the female,” the engineer said of the third officer. “She didn’t take kindly to it.”

   “And what of you?” Hast asked of the engineer.

   The engineer looked first to the captain, then to Melissa, almost as if asking for permission from his prisoner to speak. “I believe she attacked me just out of spite.”

   “And you didn’t defend yourself?” Makau chuckled, then stopped when he locked eyes with Melissa. There was a fire that burned behind them, one he didn’t care to tangle with. Turning back to the engineer, he scoffed at his disheveled appearance. “What kind of a Rugorian are you?”

   “The kind that makes a good target,” Melissa quipped.

   Makau laughed when the engineer remained silent. “So it would seem.”

   “Did you bring what I asked for?” the captain asked of the two men.

   “Yes, sir,” the
third officer replied, wiping fresh blood from the gash in his lower lip. He then stepped out from behind Melissa and produced a small wooden box.

   “Excellent. Leave it, then escort the female to the holding cell with the males in it.”

   The engineer did as he was told, setting the case down on a nearby computer and exiting with the third officer and Melissa through a side door.

   “What is that?” Makau asked as the captain neared the case. With his back to him, Makau couldn’t see what Hast was retrieving from inside the box until it was too late.

   In a flurry of motion, the captain whirled and pointed an angular black device at Tausan. The Kafaran seemed to recognize the device, but wasn’t fast enough to evade the weapon’s discharge. A crackle of blue-white energy erupted from the sidearm, striking the Kafaran in his center mass. Tausan’s entire body seemed to crackle with energy, went stiff, and then fell in a heap to the floor.

   “What have you done?” Makau exclaimed, rushing to the side of the fallen Kafaran.

   “Relax. He is merely stunned.”

   Makau leaned down to examine the still form. The Kafaran was breathing in slow, shallow breaths, as if he were asleep, yet the way his body was contorted looked far from comfortable. “There’s not going to be any permanent damage, is there?”

   “No,” the captain said, regarding the stun blaster in his hand for a moment before continuing. “I never thought I’d get to use this again. Funny how things have a way of working out.”

   “What is that thing?” Makau asked regarding the weapon.

   “A Kafaran’s version of a human Taser. Rugor came into a shipment of them while we were allies during the Galactic War. The leading House handed them out to ship captains serving on the front lines, just in case our friends became too much to handle. I have to say, it’s been a most useless artifact until now. I’m pleased it still works.”

   The
first mate turned the Kafaran fully onto his back, getting an estimate for the weight of the body as he did so. “What should we do with him?”

   “Get the humans down to the
Golden Storm
and put them in the brig. If they give you any resistance, don’t hesitate to restrain them. Then get two men to help you move the colonel. Place him into a cell opposite the humans, and make sure the door is double-bolted. I don’t want him waking up and taking out any frustrations on anyone—let alone us.”

   Makau agreed wholeheartedly. “I’ll post a guard as well?”