Kris Longknife: Defiant: Defiant
Page 40
“Big honking mothers with lots and lots of guns,” Sandy said, resting a hand on Kris’s arm.
“I couldn’t save Tommy,” Kris said, her eyes rimming with moisture.
“Didn’t you see before they evacuated you?” Mac asked.
“See what?”
“The skipper’s station wasn’t damaged at all.”
“Huh?”
“If Tom had stayed in his seat, he wouldn’t have been scratched.”
“Oh my God,” Kris said, the tears starting to flow. “Penny’s going to be...” Kris said. The tears were coming heavy now. Softly. She shivered as something left her.
“He died saving her,” Grampa Trouble whispered, putting his arm around Kris and holding her while she wept for the first time since she’d come out of the 109. She gave herself over to sobs that came from deep inside her and shook her to her foundation.
Sandy reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder. Jack added one on her back. Kris let her racking grief out to be shared among her friends, to swirl over all of them and slowly wash away.
As she came up for air, Jack loaned her his handkerchief. Kris righted herself, but she couldn’t miss the way Grampa Trouble was eyeing Ray across the table.
The man of legends was looking very old, with his chin settled on his chest. His words, when they came, were hushed and wrapped around sobs. “I told Rita I should lead the diversion. She told me I had to stay back with the main force. She could take care of that distraction. She distracted them good. Good thing, too, ’cause there were a hell of a lot more Iteeche bastards than we ever thought there could be.”
Ray shivered, shook his head, reached for his beer and took a long swallow. “And when we’d won, it was as if her task force had just vanished. Vanished.”
“And he would have drowned himself in ten barrels of beer if I hadn’t pulled him out,” Trouble said softly. “Ray, am I gonna have to pull you out tonight?”
“No, not tonight, but someone’s gonna have to spend some time with Penny, helping her accept that she’s condemned to live.”
“I’ll be there,” Kris promised. And with that it came to her why it was that Longknifes and Santiagos stood so often together. Those who died sealed those who lived into a pact for life. She thought of Penny with understanding growing in her eyes. The destroyer skipper nodded and raised her glass in salute to the new knowledge.
Kris sighed. Grampa Ray was right. She could eat her heart in small bites every day, or she could put her heart into living every day that came her way. She could decide later . . . or she could make the call now and save herself a lot of wasted motion. Lose it now or suck it up. Let Tom’s death, all their deaths, become a black hole that ripped her apart. Or find the strength she needed. That Penny needed. That a lot of them needed.
You weren’t a Longknife just because you did what had to be done on the day it was demanded of you. No, Longknifes did what had to be done the next day and the next. They kept putting one foot in front of the other day after day, for themselves, and for those they led . . . until habit turned to purpose.
So . . . if she was going to keep going, and take others with her, she needed a job. What could a beaten-down old mutineer, deserter, once relieved of command, junior officer do these days. Kris found a smile creeping up on her.
“General, it seems to me that fast patrol boats don’t take much of a crew, can be built real fast and cheap and, at least if you listen to what’s being said on the talk shows, they seem to really be able to do a job on battleships.”
“If someone’s dumb enough to send them in without destroyers and cruisers,” Sandy muttered. “Bunch of political plumbers.”
“We don’t need to let that get on the talk shows,” Mac said.
“So,” Kris went on, “if a lot of planets suddenly ordered a lot of fast patrol boats for their close-in defense, it sounds to me like they’ll also need some training on how to use them. Now, I could be wrong on this, but if Wardhaven were to offer not only the boats, but say, the training assistance of one former acting Commodore Princess Kristine Longknife and associates of the famed Squadron 8, might they jump at the offer?”
“And might some folks we won’t mention think them a bit more dangerous than they really are?” Trouble grinned wickedly.
Ray sighed. “Smoke and mirrors.”
“The lies that some people live by.” Sandy sighed.
“If they’re dumb enough to let you do it, why not lead them around by their noses?” Mac said. “Besides, I was kind of wondering what to do with you next. I’m running out of jobs I could dredge up for you, Kris. Kind of poetic the condemned woman choosing her last waltz.”
“And with any luck, it will get me away from Wardhaven and out of your hair. Father’s hair. King Ray’s hair. Maybe far enough away for some folks to forget I’ve been in their hair.”
Sandy shook her head. Jack and Trouble joined in. “No chance of that,” they agreed in unison.
About the Author
Mike Shepherd grew up Navy. It taught him early about change and the chain of command. He’s worked as a bartender and cabdriver, personnel adviser and labor negotiator. Now retired from building databases about the endangered critters of the Pacific Northwest, he’s looking forward to some serious writing.
Mike lives in Vancouver, Washington, with his wife, Ellen, and her mother. He enjoys reading, writing, watching grandchildren for story ideas, and upgrading his computer—all are never ending.
Oh, and working on Kris’s next book, Kris Longknife: Resolute.
You may reach him at Mike_Shepherd@comcast.net.
About the Author
Mike Shepherd grew up Navy. It taught him early about change and the chain of command. He’s worked as a bartender and cabdriver, personnel adviser and labor negotiator. Now retired from building databases about the endangered critters of the Pacific Northwest, he’s looking forward to some serious writing.
Mike lives in Vancouver, Washington, with his wife, Ellen, and her mother. He enjoys reading, writing, watching grandchildren for story ideas, and upgrading his computer—all are never ending.
Oh, and working on Kris’s next book, Kris Longknife: Intrepid.
You may reach him at Mike_Shepherd@comcast.net or drop by www.mikemoscoe.com to check on how the next book is going.