“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 frustrati
ons on anyone—let alone us.”
Makau agreed wholeheartedly. “I’ll post a guard as well?”
Hast nodded. “Once you’ve secured everything, I’ll meet you on the bridge. I have things to gather here before we leave.”
“You don’t plan on coming back?”
“I’ll die before I come back to this accursed world of sand.”
*
In the small, cramped cell on board the ship, Shawn looked down at Trent and Ambassador McDermott, who were both fast asleep. Melissa was busy gazing out the small port side window that was afforded the cell, occasionally sighing heavily in frustration, but saying little else.
The Golden Storm had departed Falorin several hours earlier, and in that time had already traversed one jump gate and several sectors of completely empty space. Even the stars streaming past the window had been few and far between in the last hour, and Shawn briefly entertained the thought that the Golden Storm was entering that area of Meltranian space known as the Darkness. Standing near the cell door, any hopes of an escape were dashed when Shawn tested the strength of the metal bars keeping them from their freedom, giving several key points a firm shake and finding absolutely no give in the material.
“I don’t suppose you know where we are,” Melissa finally said.
Shawn turned to see that she’d assumed a kneeling position on the bed, her well-toned legs tucked under her as she continued to stare out the window. Despite their perilous position of being locked in the brig aboard a pirate ship, Shawn found himself admiring her physique. But now was not the time to dwell on their relationship. Casting the thoughts aside, he nonetheless took up a similar position and kneeled beside her.
Seeing that he was intent on looking outside as she was, and wanting more than ever to be close to him, Melissa smiled and shuffled over to give Shawn an unobstructed view.
“I’m really not sure,” he said after gazing outside the ship for a moment. “I don’t see any constellations I recognize.”
The two continued to view the passing stars in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Trent had begun to snore softly, and the ambassador was still passed out—but whether it was from the drugs administered by Melissa earlier or from sheer exhaustion, it wasn’t immediately clear.
Folding her hands together, Melissa placed them on the edge of the window and leaned her chin on top of them and sighed again.
“What’s on your mind?” Shawn asked, hoping to break the uncomfortable silence.
“Lots of things, really. My father; our mission; the ambassador …” Her words trailed off, and then she turned to face him. “You.”
“Me?” he asked in jest. “What did I do now?”
“Nothing,” she chuckled lightly, then turned her attention back to the view. “Everything.”
“Something tells me that a serious conversation is about to ensue.”
Melissa gazed for another moment before speaking again. “You haven’t mentioned anything about what I told you back on Sylvia’s Delight when we were about to crash.”
It was true; Shawn hadn’t once brought it up since the crash, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the one recurring thought that had been reverberating through his mind since then. He told himself that there were many more important things to be done—making sure that the ambassador was safe being the paramount one—and now they were stuck in the belly of the proverbial beast. Why was there always something preventing him from talking to her—really talking to her? What was holding him back? There had been ample opportunity to make the time, but he had always found a way to make himself unavailable to her. Perhaps, when it really came down to it, he was scared of being open with someone—anyone—after the death of his wife. In all honesty, he didn’t know what to say, other than he cared for Melissa a great deal … and it seemed to pale in comparison to what she had told him.
Melissa must have sensed his trepidation at responding to her, and decided to save him the embarrassment. “I just … I just wanted you to know that I meant it. I do love you, Shawn. I wanted you to know that I’m not asking for anything in return. If you can’t—if you don’t …” She let her words trail off as she composed herself, a fit of tears quickly welling up. “Just promise me you and I will try to talk about it.”
He turned to her, reaching out hand to lightly stroke her face. “I don’t know what I have to offer … or how much of it I’ll be able to give you … but I promise I’ll do my best.”
She could see the honesty in his eyes, the battle that was being waged in his mind as he tried desperately to give her what she wanted without compromising himself. She loved him even more for it. Grasping his hand in her own, she leaned toward him, fully intent on kissing him. Just as their lips touched, the two were thrown from the bed as the Golden Storm encountered a violent jolt.
Melissa had rolled to the floor, while Shawn landed squarely on top of Trent. Stirred from his sleep, Trent unconsciously embraced Shawn lovingly. “Let’s just sleep in for a while longer, sweetheart,” the mechanic cooed with his eyes still closed.
“Wake up, you idiot,” Shawn yelped as he fought himself from Trent’s impressive grasp.
Trent’s eyes popped open to the sight of both Shawn and Melissa getting to their feet. “Are we there yet … wherever there is?”
“Not likely,” Shawn said as he scampered back to the bed and gazed out the window. “We’ve been hit.”
“By what?” Melissa asked, rushing back to his side in time to see another Rugorian blockade runner scream past the window.
“An energy blast,” Shawn said, craning his head to follow the path of the new warship.
“By their own people? By more pirates?”
As the two watched, a warship of a different configuration bolted past the window and let loose another salvo of energy blasts that shook the Golden Storm once more.
“By a lot more pirates.”
“Treaties are like roses and young girls; they last while they last.”
—Charles de Gaulle
General (later President), Nation of France, Old Earth calendar 20th Century
Chapter 11
Another volley rocked the Golden Storm, threatening to knock Shawn and the rest of the team down to the floor. Trent had managed to stagger toward the cell bars and was currently holding on for dear life.
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”
“I wish I could,” Shawn replied as he braced himself against a far wall.
“Feels like we’re going from the frying pan into the fire.”
Shawn stepped closer to his old friend and grabbed a set of bars. “Our goose isn’t cooked yet.”
“Can we please stop with the puns,” Melissa said from the bed as she braced herself against the far wall. “If I’m going to die, I would like to go without the jokes.”
“I have neither a gun nor a ship, so I’m fresh out of ideas,” Shawn replied just before the ship took a direct hit from one of the attacking warships. The ensuing shockwave succeeded where the last few warning shots had failed, and everyone save for Melissa was thrown once again to the unforgiving deck.
“This is fun,” Trent murmured from somewhere behind Shawn. “Remind me to thank the good Colonel Tausan for this brilliant idea.”
As if on cue, the outer door to the brig popped open with a clang, and there stood the Kafaran colonel.
“Tausan,” Shawn yelled from the floor. “Get us out of here, man!”
The colonel wasted little time in deactivating the cell door from a panel on the far side of the room. “My door was thrown open after the last jolt. Apparently my cell was not constructed as securely as your own.”
“Any idea who is out there attacking us?” Melissa asked, the first one out the door after he’d deactivated the lock.
“If I were to wager a guess, I would say it is a feuding House of the Rugorian line.”
“How do you figure?” Shawn asked as he joined Melissa outside their former cell.
&nbs
p; “While the captain was successful in discovering how to incapacitate me, he evidentially failed to realize that Kafarans have superior hearing. During a conversation he was having with the first mate, I came to the conclusion that all is not well in the Rugorian Empire. It’s possible we may be seeing the seeds of an interspecies conflict being planted here.” As he finished, the Golden Storm shook under another volley of weapons fire.
“These aren’t seeds, Colonel,” Trent quipped. “This is a full-blown tree! And they’re hurling fruit at us like there’s no tomorrow.”
The colonel grunted. “I’m beginning to fear that there will be no tomorrow if we do not soon extricate ourselves from this situation.”
“Oh, you think?” Trent snapped. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Trent, shut it,” Shawn yelled. “You’re not helping. Would someone please find me a gun?”
“Is that how you solve all your problems?” Ambassador McDermott said from behind him. “Judging by our surroundings, I take it we’re not on Falorin any longer.”
Shawn whirled to face the younger man, shocked to see him standing on his own two feet. “We’ve been taken aboard a Rugorian ship, Ambassador. And by the way, it’s not a way of solving problems, but under the circumstances, it would certainly even a few of the odds quickly stacking against us.”
McDermott sighed as he scanned the unfamiliar surroundings of the brig lobby. “I’m forced to agree on that point. Negotiations can be easier when both sides are closely matched.”
Melissa stepped to McDermott’s side, putting an arm around his waist for support. “Scott, can you move quickly?”
“I … I don’t think so.”
“He has lost quite a bit of blood,” Tausan said as he moved next to them. “It will be difficult to continue with any kind of stealth.”
“Perfect,” Shawn muttered. “We might as well open the passageway doors and announce to the world our newfound freedom.” But even as he said it, he knew it wouldn’t matter. Pirates attacking pirates could only mean one thing: they were about to be boarded. With twice as many brigands about, it was going to make an already untenable situation nearly impossible. “We need to find a way to get someone in here without raising too much suspicion,” Shawn said to Tausan, who agreed with a nod. “Hopefully, given the current situation, he’ll be armed.”
In the Presence of My Enemies Page 14
