Free In the Presence of My Enemies by Stephen A. Fender Page A

our way home, we’ll have to come back through a different gate entirely. We can’t chance jumping back into the middle of this.”
       “I hear that.”
       “Take us in nice and slow. We’re not in any kind of rush here.”
       Trent nodded as he slid into the copilot’s seat. Before his rear had touched the cushion, the cockpit doors slid open to admit Melissa and Ambassador McDermott. They were in the middle of a conversation, and Shawn had to snap his fingers to break into it.
       “This really isn’t the time for a guided tour.”
       “I wanted to see what was going on,” McDermott replied, obviously annoyed that Shawn had halted his conversation.
       “That’s what the window in the lounge is for.”
       “Colonel Tausan seems to have monopolized it,” Melissa countered with a laugh, but McDermott continued with his annoyance.
       “Besides, seeing as you’re the pilot, it’s your duty to keep us informed of our status.”
       Shawn didn’t want to raise his voice, but he needed this pompous ass to start respecting some boundaries on his ship. “We’re starting some delicate maneuvers, and the less distractions we have up here , the better.”
       Sensing Shawn’s frustration, Melissa lightly grasped the ambassador’s arm. “We won’t get in the way,” she said in her most diplomatic tone, then quickly ushered McDermott into the farthest corner of the room. Due to the small size of the compartment, they were still within striking distance, which was a comfort to Shawn if he quickly needed to pop the annoying diplomat in the mouth.
       “Who’s keeping an eye on Tausan?” Shawn asked.
       “Why does the colonel need to be observed?” McDermott asked, narrowing his eyes at Shawn.
       Oh, brother, are you asking for it. “As Miss Graves can attest, we’ve been the unfortunate recipients of a series of incidents, both on board the Rhea and this ship. Nefarious things. Subversion-type things. Things that diplomats don’t like to know about. So that’s why I want to know what’s going on at all times on board my ship. Besides, you said it yourself, McDermott: this mission is too important to jeopardize over trivialities. Is asking to have someone keep an eye on our distinguished guest such an enormous burden that you’d risk what we’re trying to accomplish here?”
       McDermott seemed to mull the idea over for a moment. “Very well. I’ll have S ergeant Wilcox keep a keen eye on everyone on board. There is no reason to segregate the colonel.”
       Best thing you’ve said since you came on board. “That’s all I ask,” Shawn said with an almost sarcastic bow of his head.
       Melissa’s eyes, just as the ambassador’s had earlier, narrowed at Shawn. “The air seems to have thinned up here, ambassador. Let me show you the engine room.”
       McDermott smiled a toothy grin. “It would be my pleasure, Agent Graves.”
       “Please, call me Melissa,” she said loud enough for Shawn to catch.
       As the two headed through the door, Shawn breathed a sigh of frustration.
       “Women,” Trent quipped. “You know, sometimes I find that—”
       “Stop right there before I shoot you.”
       “Yes, sir,” Trent responded quickly, then turned back to his controls.
     
        Thirty minutes later, they arrived at their destination.
       “We’re nearing the coordinates of the jump gate, Skipper.”
       Spinning lifelessly all around Sylvia’s Delight were the battered, burnt-out remains of several large warships. While many were Unified in origin, there was no lack of Kafaran, Raballan, and Marcosian hulks in the mix. Bits and pieces of debris ebbed around the slowly moving Mark-IV as Trent deftly maneuvered the small vessel to her destination. The remains of a large detector dish glided slowly past the bow of the ship, far enough away not to pose a threat, but close enough to fray Shawn’s nerves.
       “Keep her slow and