Read Online In the Presence of My Enemies by Stephen A. Fender - Free Book Online Page A

outstretched her hand. “Come on, you.”
     
    * * *
     
       Looking around the cramped lounge, Shawn realized that he was the last of the crew to enter the compartment. Everyone, save for Colonel Tausan, was seated around the small table that Melissa had somehow decorated with candles Shawn didn’t know he had. The Kafaran representative was standing some feet away, motionless near the sole starboard view port.  
       Crew? More like a ragtag group of the best and worst representatives in all of Beta Sector.
       Sitting down between Trent and Melissa, Shawn was amazed at the variety of food Melissa had prepared. His amazed look wasn’t lost on her.
       “I managed to acquire a few supplies before we departed the Rhea ,” she said, addressing his approving look.
       “I can see that.”
       “She’s a hell of a cook, too,” Trent mumbled with a mouth half full of food.
       Reaching for a plate of his own, Shawn turned briefly to his mechanic. “Shouldn’t you be up manning the helm?”
       “Ship’s on autopilot,” Trent muttered, small particles of chicken flying out with each syllable.
       Dodging a rather slimy projectile, Shawn offered his old friend a napkin, which Trent quickly declined with a raised hand.
       “No thanks. Got one already.”
       Shaking his head, Shawn began dishing a large helping of food onto his plate. He hadn’t realized how famished he was. “How’s our heading?”
       Trent took a large swallow of water before speaking, then tried unsuccessfully to stop a rather large belch from emanating deep within his innards. “On course and steady.”
       Shawn nodded slowly. “ETA for our next jump?”
       “I set the computer to notify me here when we get close to the gate. Shouldn’t be more than ten or fifteen minutes.”
       “Good,” Shawn said, casting his eyes to his plate in a moment of silence before speaking again. “Good. I want us both up there when we reach— ,” Shawn began, then looked to the Kafaran staring silently out the view port. “When we reach our destination.”
       The pause wasn’t lost on Melissa. “Problem, Commander?”
       Shawn deposited a forkful of corn into his mouth. “No, no problem. What makes you ask?”
       “Well, I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that I’d like to know where we’re going.”
       “Rugor Prime,” he said after swallowing. “I’m fairly certain you got that memo.”
       She rolled her eyes at his aloofness. “No. I mean, where is the jump gate located?”
       Shawn took another helping of food, chewed slowly, and then swallowed. Apparently everyone except Trent did want to know, because—save for Tausan—they were all silently staring at him.
       “What?” he asked.
       “To my people, it is called Grek Llar.” The Kafaran colonel spoke quietly. Apparently, his translator was keyed to such subtle nuances in his voice.
       “Grek Llar?” Ambassador McDermott repeated. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of it, Colonel.”
       “That’s because we humans don’t have a habit of naming our star systems using Kafaran ideology,” Shawn snapped tersely. “Grek Llar is the name of a Kafaran deity, or so I’ve been told.”
       “Your information is correct, Commander Kestrel,” the Kafaran replied, still looking out of the view port. “Although your claim as to the rightful possessor of the system is somewhat dubious.”
       “And what system would that be?” Melissa asked Shawn. “In human terms, that is.”
       “Delta Canaras.”
       Sergeant Wilcox, still dressed in his fatigues, turned a somber face away from his plate. “As in . . . the Battle of Delta Canaras?”
       “The very same,” Shawn replied, finishing the last of his meal. “We’ll be passing near the coreward edge of the battlefield very shortly.”
       “The area is sacred to the Kafarans,” Tausan said, again without facing the crew. “I’d advise that