As Kris Longknife’s life takes another turn, for better or worse, I’d like to take time to thank some folks who have helped bring to life the tales of Kris, Vicky, and the old folks, back when they were young themselves.
The gang at the Historic Anchor Inn in Lincoln City has been spectacular. I’ve juggled three books demanding to get on the page for the last two years. They’ve helped me find a place where it all can happen, and find that place again and again as life made other plans. With my two wonderful grandkids making that break into those teenage years, and all the things that were already competing in my life for time, Kip, Candi, and Misty always found a way to free up my writing space for the week that suddenly appeared.
I’ve got a great pair of first readers to back up my wife, Ellen. Lisa Kelly not only helps my grandkids with their homework but also helps me with mine. Edee Lemonier is always ready with a good eye.
Jenn Jackson is now and always has been the best agent a busy writer could ask for. She’s found homes for Kris in Japan and Germany, Poland and Spain. She’s seen that Audible contracts were done in time for the books to come out for listeners as well as readers.
Ginjer Buchanan is just about the best editor a writer could have. She’s really stepped up to the plate to get three books out to you this year. I couldn’t ask for better support. Even when I’m a bit reluctant to make this or that minor change she’s telling me I really want to make. And she’s right about it, too! Sadly and happily, I am losing Ginjer to a well-earned retirement. She’s been editing for Ace for thirty years, the last twenty of them working with me. She’s surely earned many great golden years. Have fun, Ginjer.
And, as she has been for forty-seven years, Ellen Moscoe is the support and star in my life, the first editor of my words, and the last thought of my day.
Contents
Praise for the Kris Longknife novels
Ace Books by Mike Shepherd
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
About the Author
1
Rear Admiral Kris Longknife relaxed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her oh-so-vibrantly-alive skin. Two weeks ago, she could have easily ended her days dead and frozen in the dark emptiness of space.
But she’d won her battle. She and her command were alive, and countless billions of ill-advised alien invaders were dead.
Now, finally, Kris was free to enjoy the beach with just herself and a smile. Oh, and a just-as-naked Jack, husband of less than a month, beside her.
It seemed like it had taken forever to get here, to take the third day of her interrupted honeymoon. A honeymoon should be a full month. That was why it had the “moon” thing in it, right?
Her honeymoon had been interrupted after one single lovely night. To Kris’s way of thinking, when she reported back to duty she was owed twenty-nine more days.
Kris was most definitely keeping count.
Now, two days into the rest of her honeymoon, she was enjoying herself. And looking forward to another twenty-seven.
She deserved the break. It had taken Kris two weeks to shed all of her hats, as well as her clothes and inhibitions.
What wife needs inhibitions around a husband like Jack? was asked and answered with a smile.
For two long weeks she had been Commander, Alwa Defense Sector; Senior Executive Officer of Nuu Enterprises in the Alwa System; and United Society Viceroy to the Human Colonists on Alwa as well as Ambassador to the Aliens. For two interminable weeks, she’d worn her multiple hats, burying her dead and tending to the living.
Collecting the wreckage of both human and alien ships had not taken long. Faced with possible capture, both sides had dropped their reactor containment vessels and blown themselves to atoms. Kris knew why the humans had: The aliens must be denied any scrap of information that could lead them back to human space on the other side of the galaxy.
But why are the aliens doing it, too?
Five of Kris’s ships had been blown to bits and another ten had been bled heavily of their Smart MetalTM armor. Two of those losses had been from the six ships spun together from her twelve survey and ore-hauling ships. Thank heavens Admiral Benson, commander Canopus Station and its yard, as well as retired Musashi Admiral Hiroshi, who commanded the Kure yard, had survived. Admiral Hiroshi had been wounded as the Kikukei struggled under heavy alien laser fire. Still, the two yards had already changed the four damaged warships back into seven ore carriers.
They were now carrying asteroid miners back to their distant claims.
This made a lot of the people who reported to Kris as Senior Executive Officer of Nuu Enterprises in the Alwa System happy. When the mines shipped ore, the fabricators and mills on the moon made goods, both for war and for the budding modernization of the Alwa economy.
Sooner or later, there had to be a way to make money off the crazy Alwans. Some very savvy businesspeople were pulling their hair out as they tried.
Kris, being Navy, would let them worry about that.
As Viceroy to the humans on Alwa, she’d been happy to report the success of the U.S., Helvetican Confederacy, and Imperial Musashi Navy in defending their lives. Then, as ambassador to the Alwa aliens, she’d been invited to address the Association of Associations.
That address had not gone well.
Kris came prepared with visuals, both of the gigantic alien base ship and one of the several hundred monstrous alien fighting ships. She also projected pictures from her battle board of how the fight went.
Half the aliens in the sunlit plaza where they met stood in one silent huddle, eyes wide, arms, formerly wings, showing their only reaction as they flapped nervously on occasion. The other half of the Association’s members were mostly made up of older Alwans, who did a lot more flapping as they ran around the plaza. Their arms waved wildly, and their long necks ducked up and down as they ran together in small groups that formed and re-formed to no pattern that Kris, or any other human, had been able to figure out.