Bold Read online

  Praise for the Kris Longknife novels

  “A whopping good read . . . Fast-paced, exciting, nicely detailed, with some innovative touches.”

  —Elizabeth Moon, Nebula Award–winning author of Crown of Renewal

  “Shepherd delivers no shortage of military action, in space and on the ground. It’s cinematic, dramatic, and dynamic . . . A thoroughly enjoyable adventure featuring one of science fiction’s most interesting recurring heroines.”

  —Tor.com

  “A tightly written, action-packed adventure from start to finish . . . Heart-thumping action will keep the reader engrossed and emotionally involved.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Fans of the Honor Harrington escapades will welcome the adventures of another strong female in outer space starring in a thrill-a-page military space opera.”

  —Alternative Worlds

  “[Kris Longknife] will remind readers of David Weber’s Honor Harrington with her strength and intelligence. Mike Shepherd provides an exciting military science fiction thriller.”

  —Genre Go Round Reviews

  “Kris can kick, shoot, and punch her way out of any dangerous situation, and she can do it while wearing stilettos and a tight cocktail dress. She’s all business, with a Hells Angel handshake and a ‘get out of my face’ attitude. But her hair always looks good . . . Kris Longknife is funny and she entertains us.”

  —Sci Fi Weekly

  “[A] fast-paced, exciting military SF series . . . Mike Shepherd has a great ear for dialogue and talent for injecting dry humor into things at just the right moment . . . The characters are engaging, and the plot is full of twists and peppered liberally with sharply described action . . . Guaranteed a good time with plenty of adventure.”

  —SF Site

  Ace Books by Mike Shepherd

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: MUTINEER

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: DESERTER

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: DEFIANT

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: RESOLUTE

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: AUDACIOUS

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: INTREPID

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: UNDAUNTED

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: REDOUBTABLE

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: DARING

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: FURIOUS

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: DEFENDER

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: TENACIOUS

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: UNRELENTING

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: BOLD

  TO DO OR DIE: A JUMP UNIVERSE NOVEL

  VICKY PETERWALD: TARGET

  VICKY PETERWALD: SURVIVOR

  VICKY PETERWALD: REBEL

  Specials

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: TRAINING DAZE

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: WELCOME HOME / GO AWAY

  Writing as Mike Moscoe

  THE FIRST CASUALTY: A JUMP UNIVERSE NOVEL

  THE PRICE OF PEACE: A JUMP UNIVERSE NOVEL

  THEY ALSO SERVE: A JUMP UNIVERSE NOVEL

  ACE

  Published by Berkley

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  Copyright © 2016 by Mike Moscoe

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  ACE is a registered trademark and the A colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Ebook ISBN: 9780698180666

  First Edition: November 2016

  Cover illustration by Scott Grimando

  Cover design by Katie Anderson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  Acknowledgments

  As Kris finishes up her first midlife crisis, I’m also hitting the twenty-fifth anniversary of my first short story publication. It’s been a wild ride, and now seems like a good time to thank all the people who helped me along the way.

  I will always be grateful to Sheila Simonson and the group at the Novel Writing class at Clark College. They helped me through those first stumbling efforts, taught me how to do dialogue (you know, Mike, that stuff in quotes), and gave me the discipline to write ten whole pages a week. Mary Rosenblum and her writers group helped polish me. Mary also gave me the benefit of her Clarion experience.

  Thank you, Stan Schmidt of Analog. You were the first to see the writing potential in me and give me the approval I desperately needed. Like with all writers, that approval came in the form of a check.

  Jenn Jackson has been the best agent that I could ask for. She’s given me all I needed and kept out of my way when I needed that. My longtime editor at Ace, Ginjer Buchanan, picked me up and gave me a second chance when others might not have. She was a perfect match for twenty years. I hope she enjoys a long and fun retirement; she richly deserves it. I appreciate Diana Gill’s contributions to Kris Longknife: Bold and my other latest books. I’m grateful to the whole gang at Ace for the work they’ve put into the production that turns my manuscript into the finished product you readers enjoy. Oh, and I do love Scott’s cover art.

  The folks at Lincoln City, both at the Historic Anchor Inn and the Sunday brunch bunch, have supported me through a lot and helped me keep going. I’m sure you will keep me going for a long time to come.

  My first readers also really deserve a very special thank-you. Lisa Müller and Edee Lemonier do a great job of cleaning up my all-too-frequent typos and nits. Oh, and occasionally they back up my wife’s “You really need to fix that section.”

  Around the house, Nikki and Danny, my grandkids, are not only interesting sources for inspiration, but they’ve also come to understand what it’s like to have a writer for a grandpa. They’ve learned to enjoy the ups and put up with the downs. They also love going to cons with me.

  Then there’s Ellen. She’s devoted years to learning how to be the best first reader that a writing husband could hope for. Thank you, honey, for everything.

  Contents

  Praise for the Kris Longknife Novels

  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

  Chapter 71

  Special Note to the Reader

  About the Author

  1

  Admiral, Her Royal Highness Kris Longknife did her best to cut her corners as she’d been taught in those long-ago days at Officer Candidate School. But then, Gunny had never suggested how you managed the correct military entry with a bundle such as Kris cradled in her left arm.

  The unholy trinity were waiting for her.

  Kris came to a halt before the middle one, Field Marshal McMorrison, Chief of Staff for the entire military of the United Society. She saluted, bringing her hand right up her gig line—as much as she could without bopping that tiny bundle.

  “Admiral Kris Longknife reporting as ordered,” she said, more to her great-grandfather Ray, King Raymond I to most, seated in the guest’s chair to the right of Mac’s desk. The last member of the unholy trinity, Admiral Crossenshield, Crossie to most, had a chair to Mac’s left.

  “Now, what was the all-fired hurry?” Kris failed to avoid adding.

  “What is that!” the King said, pointing at the bundle cradled in Kris’s left arm.

  Is he so locked up in his own little bubble that he didn’t get the word? Kris removed the blanket that had protected her infant daughter’s face, keeping her warm from the crisp autumn weather during the drive from the space-elevator station to Main Navy. “This is Ruthie Marie. Jack and my firstborn,” she said.

  She pointed Ruthie’s gummy smile at the two couples who stood by the bookcase to the left of the unholy three. They didn’t look at all surprised to see her bundle. Indeed, if they hadn’t known of tiny Ruthie, they would never have been here.

  “Can I see the baby?” Kris’s mother, Brenda, squeed. At her elbow, Great-grandmother Ruth Tordon, more commonly known as Mrs. Trouble, held back. Brenda was so rarely happy after the kidnapping and death of her third child, Eddy, that any moment of joy was not to be denied her.

  Kris met her mother halfway and most gently and carefully managed the transfer. Mother must have been getting practice with Honovi’s three; Kris had to do little to get Mother’s arms just right.

  You will get this just right. This is my baby, Kris thought but did not say.

  Ruthie gave Brenda a toothless grin. Brenda grinned back, enraptured. Gramma Trouble stood at one elbow, Kris at the other. Brenda could not have dropped Ruthie if she wanted to.

  “Her full name,” Kris provided, “is Ruth Maria Brenda Anne.”

  “Hi there, my little Brenda,” Brenda said.

  Great-grampa Trouble, trouble to his enemies, trouble to his superiors, and just flat trouble to everyone, including himself, stood well out of range of any spit-up with Billy Longknife, Man of the People, Prime Minister of Wardhaven, and Kris’s occasional father.

  “What’s her last name?” Grampa Ray asked, coming to stand by his longtime friend, General Trouble, ret.

  “Haven’t decided,” Kris said. “Probably we’ll have to do it before she starts school, but we can wait.”

  “You’re married to Jack, here,” the King said, no part question at all.

  Lieutenant General Jack Montoya nodded, as did Kris.

  “When did that happen?” was as gruff as a man could manage under Ruthie’s gummy grin.

  “While I was out of any chain of command,” Kris said. “Just before you issued orders making me God Almighty in the Alwa system.”

  That got a snort from Ray and a chuckle from everyone else paying attention.

  “I’ll bet you any amount of money Rita was at the bottom of this,” the King growled.

  “She officiated,” Kris said, beaming happily.

  “That woman keeps everyone wrapped around her little finger,” Ray muttered.

  Kris considered how much Great-grandfather Ray had pulled the strings that damn near wrapped her in a spiderweb of conflicting duties on Alwa but said nothing. Ray was what he was, and there was little she could do to change him at his present age, with 120-plus years disappearing in the rearview mirror.

  Grampa Trouble laid a nearly affectionate hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Ray, you knew those two were going to tie the knot, it was only a question of when and where.”

  Kris let out a sigh. This was going smoother than she had expected.

  The Wasp had jumped into the Wardhaven system, finally slowed down enough to hit it at under fifty thousand kilometers an hour. Kris had expected an immediate message from Mac or Ray. After all, they were the ones who had had Grand Admiral Sandy Santiago relieve her of her command and order her home “soonest.”

  No message.

  The Wasp docked at High Wardhaven Station as smoothly as if Captain Drago were still at the conn. Kris had expected a message as soon as they opened their locks and plugged into the station’s landline, air, water, and sewer.

  Nothing.

  Jack had to order up transport for Kris and a two-squad Marine Honor Guard–fully locked and loaded. A chief bosun’s mate, a fatherly type, had followed along, a diaper bag slung over his shoulder with such aplomb that none would dare gainsay him.

  Only when they had dropped down to the main beanstalk terminal in Wardhaven had the necessary transport been waiting for them. They’d been whisked from the terminal to Main Navy and led by a very silent lieutenant colonel to Mac’s inner sanctum.

  The colonel had passed them to Mac’s secretary, who smiled, and said, “You are expected,” and held open the door to Mac’s inner office.

  Kris had taken a deep breath and reported in.

  She still had no idea where the fire was that required her to leave the fleet she had built up, the people she had sworn to protect, and the industrial base she’d grown and overseen.

  I’ve had enough of being the visiting fireman. Especially enough of being ordered from pillar to post with no idea of what I’m supposed to do or how to do it.

  Still, Kris held her tongue as Ruthie smiled and did her best to wrap around her tiny finger all of Kris’s problem people, the Troubles excepted . . . sometimes.

  Even Ray finally tried his hand at holding Ruthie. That was when disaster struck.

  Ruthie scrunched up her face and let out a yowl. Then she spat up.

  Good girl. I’ve wanted to do that so many times, Kris thought.

  But “diaper bag” was what Kris called for. The Marines and the chief had been able to avoid Kris’s little family reunion. Lucky them. These were usually a disaster, and there was no need for the Marines to know just how bad it got the higher up you went. Smart Jack, he’d grabbed the bag, not considering it beneath a three-star to pack the necessities for his tiny daughter. Now he handed the bag to Kris, already opened and with a cleaning cloth, half–pulled out. Kris flashed Jack a smile; whether they were fighting off bug-eyed monsters or close family, she could always count on him.

  Kris traded the cloth to Grampa Ray for Ruthie. Jack ha
d another cloth in hand, so Kris could clean up the tiny one. It was clear, however, that Ruthie had had enough of being nice for family. She still hadn’t quite figured out what her lungs were for, but she already knew how to make with her own little war cry.

  “How long’s it been since she was fed?” Gramma Ruth asked.

  “Just before we headed down,” Kris answered as she checked to see that the diaper was neither wet nor messy. “I think this is an ‘I’m hungry, where’s lunch’ howler,” Kris agreed, only too happy to use Ruth for an excuse to get a break from all this family attention.

  “Can I feed her?” Brenda asked eagerly. “Do you have a bottle?”

  “We were not prepared for children on Alwa Station,” Kris explained. “We’ve had to do everything the old-fashioned way.”

  “Body birth and breast nursing, huh?” Gramma Trouble provided when Brenda frowned blankly.

  “Yep,” Kris said. “Do you have a room where I could nurse Ruthie?”

  “How did you come to have a baby on the front line?” Grampa Ray asked, with a lot of royal command behind it.

  Kris had been waiting for that one. “Someone sabotaged my new birth-control implants, figuring that a pregger admiral couldn’t command. I dumped his ass in the bird-guano mines and commanded very well, thank you. By the way, thanks for those beam ships. We would have been toast when six alien hordes hit us all at the same time. With them, they were toast, slathered with marmalade. We did get the first two on our own, thank you very much. Anyway, Ruthie and I need to commune with motherhood just now. Jack can explain more if you need it. Where do we go?”

  Ruthie emphasized the urgency of Kris’s request with a bawl that was only three on the baby Richter scale but threatened to go higher if not appeased.

  “Erwin,” Mac commanded urgently on his intercom. The secretary appeared at the door. “Show the admiral to Admiral Ballo’s office. He’s taken leave today.”

  Erwin led Kris out of the office, into the hall, and to the next door down. It opened to a very standard set of senior flag officer’s spaces. The walls were a deep mahogany. The outer wall had large picture windows with drapes that could be pulled shut. There were a desk, a meeting table, and a discussion pit, all standard-issue. The large armchair in the discussion pit was the one thing out of military step. It was a rocker.