Kris Longknife Audacious Read online

  Praise for the Kris Longknife novels

  “Shepherd’s grasp of timing and intrigue remains solid, and Kris’s latest challenge makes for an engaging space opera, seasoned with political machination and the thrills of mysterious ancient technology, that promises to reveal some interesting things about the future Kris inhabits.”

  —Booklist

  “Enthralling…fast paced…A well-crafted space opera with an engaging hero.”

  —SFRevu

  “Mike Shepherd has written an action-packed, exciting space opera that starts at light speed and just keeps getting better. This is outer space military science fiction at its adventurous best.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “I’m looking forward to her next adventure.”

  —The Weekly Press (Philadelphia)

  “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

  “If you’re looking for an entertaining space opera with some colorful characters, this is your book. Shepherd grew up Navy, and he does an excellent job of showing the complex demands and duties of an officer.”

  —Books ’n’Bytes

  “You don’t have to be a military sci-fi enthusiast to appreciate the thrill-a-minute plot and engaging characterization.”

  —Romantic Times

  Ace titles by Mike Shepherd

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: MUTINEER

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: DESERTER

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: DEFIANT

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: RESOLUTE

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: AUDACIOUS

  Kris Longknife AUDACIOUS

  Mike Shepherd

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  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. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  KRIS LONGKNIFE: AUDACIOUS

  An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author

  Copyright © 2007 by Mike Moscoe.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 1-4295-7872-6

  ACE

  Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ACE and the “A” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Interlude 1

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Interlude 2

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Interlude 3

  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

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  No manuscript becomes a book without a lot of dedicated work from wonderful people. Ginjer Buchanan deserves a special thanks for all the support she gave a writer she discovered in the slush pile. The gang at Ace has been wonderful to work with. Jennifer Jackson is all the agent that a writer could hope for. And there is no better first reader than my wife, Ellen.

  And I will never pass up the opportunity to thank those of you who tell me your stories. Those of you who go “down range” to help folks who hardly know they need helping and may have no idea how to say thank you. You know only too well that Kris Longknife is not the only one whose good deeds never go unpunished. Thanks for sharing.

  1

  Lieutenant Kris Longknife, sometimes styled Princess of Wardhaven, hated running in high heels. To make matters worse, the street here was paved with uneven cobblestones…and they were wet!

  The street was also empty. The brick buildings were five-and six-story-high relics of New Eden’s early days four hundred years ago. Rehabilitated and converted to government offices, they’d emptied at the close of business with amazing speed. The restaurants and small “shoppes” that serviced them had also closed down for the day.

  Kris had the place to herself—except for tonight’s assassins.

  The ratcheting back of an arming hammer on an automatic weapon reminded her that she was once again the hunted.

  Kris dodged to the right, heading across the street. Forcing assassins into a deflection shot had often kept her alive. One “shoppe” had an open alcove for an entrance. She sharpened her angle and redoubled her speed despite complaining ankles…

  And ducked inside the cover not a second too soon.

  A spray of rock shards told her the stone front of the store was real. Only scratches showed on the large display windows where they’d repulsed shots as well. A glance at the name on the glass told Kris she’d been lucky…again. Brevel’s F
ine Jewelry had paid for bulletproofing.

  Kris took all this in as she dropped to the ground and reached for her service automatic.

  Abby, Kris’s erstwhile maid, had insisted that she show off her figure tonight. “Let the newsies see it once, then we can do what we want.” The clingy burgundy sheath had been padded, so Kris almost looked like she had a bust, and it fit nicely over Kris’s armored underthings. The short slit up the side reminded her to take graceful little princess steps tonight. Now it was a much less modest long rip; Kris easily got at her weapon.

  Kris rested her automatic on the brick pavement and edged it around the corner, then waited for Nelly, Kris’s pet computer…worth more than several blocks of the surrounding real estate…to paint a sight picture on the retina of Kris’s eyeball.

  Nothing happened.

  NELLY, WHERE’S MY TARGET?

  KRIS, WE ARE STILL BEING JAMMED. I CANNOT READ THE GUN’S TRANSMISSIONS.

  STILL! Kris spat in dismay. SHORT-RANGED PERSONAL NETWORKS CAN’T BE JAMMED.

  YES, MA’AM. I KNOW, KRIS, BUT WE ARE. The computer voice in Kris’s head conveyed disappointment at her failure, but Nelly was absolutely sure of her conclusion. Between woman and computer there was a direct hookup. Kris hadn’t known when she signed for the hardwire that she’d face this, but she was grateful she had.

  Scowling at what couldn’t be—but was—Kris waited. When the next blast of rapid fire ended, Kris risked using her own eyeball to draw a bead on the gunner. In formal black tie and tux, he seemed a bit chunky for the tights he wore in place of the more conservative pantaloons that were in this year for men in Garden City.

  Kris put two rounds in the center of his chest.

  That only drove his aim high. His next burst smashed windows above Kris…government offices didn’t rate armor. Shards rained down on Kris, including one that speared her gun hand.

  She bit back the pain and raised her aim. The next three rounds did things to his face that Kris didn’t need to see. She’d been there, done that…and had a long lineup of gory memories for her nightmares. She scanned left for a second shooter.

  He’d skidded to a halt poorly, dropping down on one knee. A hand on the cobbles steadied him. He whirled around and headed back the way he’d come.

  Kris put two rounds in his head but all it did was knock him down.

  SMART MAN, ARMORED TOUPÉ, Nelly observed dryly.

  Kris’s long ringlets were also borrowed for the night—and similarly fortified. She took off running for the corner while the assassin picked himself up and decided if the game was worth the cost.

  “Where is Jack?” Kris growled.

  Normally her chief of security was attached to her at the hip and full of nanny advice. As a Navy lieutenant she outranked his Marine first lieutenant. She should have been able to ignore him. Only after she made the mistake of drafting him did she learn that he had absolute say over her security matters. Which he insisted extended much further than she found plausible.

  They argued a lot.

  Sometimes it was actually fun.

  At the moment, Kris would love to have him to argue with.

  2

  Tonight’s assassination attempt had been layered. First the attendant in the ladies’ room…one of the few places Jack didn’t insist on escorting her. After putting that overly helpful and far-too-deadly woman to sleep, Kris found the door locked and even Nelly unable to do anything about it. That blasted jamming.

  So Kris threw a chair through the low back window.

  Only to find some very fancy dressed men waiting for her.

  She’d kicked the closest one in the groin before he realized this Navy lieutenant was not the usual damsel, given to easy swoons when in distress. Both guys went down in a ball and Kris took off running for her life…or at least freedom.

  Which frequently meant the same. It had for poor little Eddy.

  The front of the Hotel Landfall had been a zoo of newsies, cameras, and security. The back was quiet as a Buddhist temple, but Kris lacked the time to contemplate. To her right, at the end of the alley, a car waited with two more thugs. She headed left at full speed.

  Running footsteps and the crash of several garbage cans told her it was going to be a long night.

  At the end of the alley, Kris found a guy in a full-length, leather coat taking a leak. Bad timing. While he scrambled to finish with one hand, he clutched inside his coat with the other, grabbing for what Kris suspected was an illegal weapon on this wonderland of planets, New Eden.

  Or just plain Eden as the locals insisted.

  Kris didn’t wait to see what he came up with. She chopped him on the side of his neck to put him down.

  She’d kept running and had been running ever since.

  As Kris ran for the corner, behind her came more sounds of the chase. Either her second pursuer was finding the nerve to keep this up, or whoever was paying for this hit had not stinted on numbers. The quality his money bought had yet to be determined.

  Maybe it was the first time for them.

  It wasn’t for Kris Longknife.

  As she neared the corner, a gruff “You’re blocking my fire lane” greeted her in Jack’s wonderful voice.

  Wonderful for at least the moment.

  Kris went wide around the corner, then skidded into a turn and a stop. Jack knelt there, in dress red-and-blues, service automatic covering the street. Kris took the situation in as she caught her breath.

  Ineye’s Qck-Stp. “Lunch in five minutes or it’s on me” probably didn’t have armored glass, but solid bricks covered the lower half of his store front.

  Kris ducked behind Jack. “You got a handkerchief or a bandage?” Kris asked as she eyed the half-inch glass sliver in her gun hand.

  “Bandage in my hip pocket,” Jack said, and snapped off two rounds. There was a shout out there and the clatter of a weapon bouncing along the cobblestones.

  Kris located the bandage, drew the sliver out with her teeth, then spat it out as she wrapped the bleeding hand if not expertly, at least with experience. “What took you so long?”

  “How am I supposed to know how long you need to take a leak, put that outfit back together, and powder your too-large nose. Your opinion, not mine,” he said, and snapped off two more shots. No noise rewarded him this time. A stream of bullets stitched the glass of the far window but failed to make it through to the window above Kris’s head. Other rounds ricocheted off the pavement.

  “I am not slow in the head,” Kris snapped. Well, there was the time she’d planted bombs to blow up a space station’s sewage treatment plant, but that was a special occasion.

  “Besides,” Jack continued, “the Hotel Landfall did not take well to me shooting the door off their ladies’ room. Insisted I wait for someone with a key. And asked dark questions about whether or not I had a permit for this thing.” Jack fired two more rounds to punctuate the reference to his Corps-issued weapon, authorized on Wardhaven…but illegal on a mature, civilized place like Eden.

  Kris had been naive enough to believe that line in the official “Welcome to Eden” handbook given her by the inattentive secretary in the ambassador’s office. But not naive enough for her and Jack to leave their backups at home on this night of Kris’s coming out as the visiting princess from the Rim.

  “You’d have thought they’d give us a couple of free passes,” she grumbled. “Two or three quiet nights out.”

  Kris’s complaint was cut short by the roar of a car engine. A gray sedan shot around the corner up from them, an automatic pistol already out the window. But the gunner was busy holding on tight as the car took the corner, giving Kris the first shot.

  A major mistake.

  Kris aimed one for the gunner, then quickly spaced ten across the front window.

  The car wobbled in its turn. Then slammed into a fire hydrant. Water geysered up, showering everything, including the car. No motion there.

  “Somebody’s got to notice that,” Kris said.


  “Glad we’ve heard from the motor brigade,” Jack said, then followed it by three shoots down the street he was covering. The storm sewer was backing up fast, turning the street corner beside them into a lake. Water now lapped at Kris’s very expensive, if nearly nonexistent shoes.

  Jack snapped off two more shots, the last of which brought a scream from someone. “Unless you’re planning on walking on water tonight, Your Princesshood, what say we make tracks?”

  Kris did not argue. Not tonight. She was already up and running.

  3

  The Wardhaven Embassy was just a few blocks farther down, its gray stones looking wonderfully bulletproof. Still, Kris figured they’d spent about as much time on this street as they dared and zigged right at the next block. Halfway down that block, in midstreet, Kris’s luck ran out—again.

  The guy in the leather coat came racing around the corner, so intent on beating feet to get a shot at where Kris’s back had been that it took him a second to notice her front. Kris and Jack put a pair of rounds into his jacket.

  It must have been armored, the shots just sent him sprawling backward, his feet flying into the air like he’d stepped on a banana peel. His gun clattered halfway across the street.