Read Online Kris Longknife 13 - Unrelenting by Mike Shepherd - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mike Shepherd
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breathed.
“What’s this sequence of which you speak?” Kris asked.
“You get three implants, each numbered. Almost always one right after another. There’s a chance the batch can get mixed up a bit in the machine that puts them in three-strip packets, but they’re always the same in the first five or six numbers. This one is way off.”
“And the third is?” Kris said.
Doc Meade removed the third and, instead of handing it off to the nurse, walked it over herself, set it down, and eyed it.
“Totally different batch,” she said. “Three different batches, all from three years ago. Kris, my good Admiral, this is no accident. This is sabotage.”
“Damn,” Kris whispered.
11
How do you tell your husband you’re pregnant?
Kris tried to remember what it was like in the Longknife household six, nine months before little Eddy was born. She was four. She remembered nothing.
Okay, how do I tell my husband he’s going to be a daddy? He wants this baby, right?
Kris’s internal dialogue stumbled. I want this baby, don’t I?
Kris’s empty tummy grumbled, no answer to her question, but it pointed in a direction. On the Wasp , she’d call him up and invite him to lunch at the Forward Lounge. There he could have a drink. He’d think nothing of her having something nonalcoholic. There she could let him in on her little secret.
That was getting bigger by the day.
But the Princess Royal had no bar aboard, and it was very likely that the next Wasp would be a dry ship as well. Third Wasp in less than that many years.
You’re hard on ships, kiddo.
Kris had to admit that she was. But that was another problem. For now, she had a different one.
KRIS, I COULDN’T HELP BUT LISTEN IN. YOU’RE THINKING VERY LOUDLY, Nelly said.
SORRY. WAS I BOTHERING YOU?
NO, BUT YOU KNOW, I COULD TURN YOUR DAY QUARTERS INTO A VERY NICE PLACE TO SHARE A CANDLELIT DINNER WITH JACK.
WHERE WOULD WE GET THE FOOD?
KRIS, MOST ADMIRALS HAVE THEIR OWN MESS FOR THEM AND THEIR STAFF. I COULD EASILY ARRANGE FOR THE WARDROOM TO DELIVER. THEY HAVE A FEW STEAKS LEFT OVERFROM OUR VICTORY DINNER. I THINK I COULD GET YOU AND JACK TWO WITH ALL THE TRIMMINGS.
COULD YOU?
I’VE ALREADY ARRANGED IT.
AND MY DAY QUARTERS?
WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE WHAT I’VE DONE.
WELL, SINCE YOU’VE ARRANGED IT, TELL JACK I’D LIKE TO SEE HIM IN OUR QUARTERS IN A HALF HOUR.
HE SAYS HE’LL BE THERE.
Now, how to let him know. Hmm, maybe if I dress the part, I won’t have to tell him.
• • •
Major General Jack Montoya opened the door to his wife’s day quarters and came to a complete stop. Dead stop one might almost say.
He did not recognize the place.
In place of the usual spartan walls and furniture that made clear that his wife was business with no frills, the place looked like some quiet little hideaway.
The walls were made out like adobe, and there were red roof tiles. Flowering plants circled the wooden roof supports. The deck had been made into flagstones of several colors in a pattern that delighted the eye.
In the middle of all this, Kris sat at a wooden table.
He had to look twice to notice the table. Kris was wearing the white negligee that he’d bought her the last time they were dirtside on Alwa. The two thin straps allowed for a truly plunging neckline. Made of hand-tooled lace, it let her lovely skin play peekaboo with his hungry male eyes.
While the guy part of his brain lapped all this up, the major general section was hammering alarm bells.
WHAT’S UP? Jack asked Sal, his computer and one of Nelly’s kids.
I DON’T KNOW ANY MORE THAN YOU DO, BOSS. MOM’S BEEN OFF-LINE TO THE REST OF US KIDS FOR MOST OF THIS MORNING.
Throwing caution to the wind— who do you trust if you can’t trust your wife? —Jack stepped into this illusion and crossed quickly to seat himself across from his wife.
“Am I overdressed or underdressed?”
“You’re perfect, as usual,” Kris said.
“What’s that I smell?” Jack
“What’s this sequence of which you speak?” Kris asked.
“You get three implants, each numbered. Almost always one right after another. There’s a chance the batch can get mixed up a bit in the machine that puts them in three-strip packets, but they’re always the same in the first five or six numbers. This one is way off.”
“And the third is?” Kris said.
Doc Meade removed the third and, instead of handing it off to the nurse, walked it over herself, set it down, and eyed it.
“Totally different batch,” she said. “Three different batches, all from three years ago. Kris, my good Admiral, this is no accident. This is sabotage.”
“Damn,” Kris whispered.
11
How do you tell your husband you’re pregnant?
Kris tried to remember what it was like in the Longknife household six, nine months before little Eddy was born. She was four. She remembered nothing.
Okay, how do I tell my husband he’s going to be a daddy? He wants this baby, right?
Kris’s internal dialogue stumbled. I want this baby, don’t I?
Kris’s empty tummy grumbled, no answer to her question, but it pointed in a direction. On the Wasp , she’d call him up and invite him to lunch at the Forward Lounge. There he could have a drink. He’d think nothing of her having something nonalcoholic. There she could let him in on her little secret.
That was getting bigger by the day.
But the Princess Royal had no bar aboard, and it was very likely that the next Wasp would be a dry ship as well. Third Wasp in less than that many years.
You’re hard on ships, kiddo.
Kris had to admit that she was. But that was another problem. For now, she had a different one.
KRIS, I COULDN’T HELP BUT LISTEN IN. YOU’RE THINKING VERY LOUDLY, Nelly said.
SORRY. WAS I BOTHERING YOU?
NO, BUT YOU KNOW, I COULD TURN YOUR DAY QUARTERS INTO A VERY NICE PLACE TO SHARE A CANDLELIT DINNER WITH JACK.
WHERE WOULD WE GET THE FOOD?
KRIS, MOST ADMIRALS HAVE THEIR OWN MESS FOR THEM AND THEIR STAFF. I COULD EASILY ARRANGE FOR THE WARDROOM TO DELIVER. THEY HAVE A FEW STEAKS LEFT OVERFROM OUR VICTORY DINNER. I THINK I COULD GET YOU AND JACK TWO WITH ALL THE TRIMMINGS.
COULD YOU?
I’VE ALREADY ARRANGED IT.
AND MY DAY QUARTERS?
WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE WHAT I’VE DONE.
WELL, SINCE YOU’VE ARRANGED IT, TELL JACK I’D LIKE TO SEE HIM IN OUR QUARTERS IN A HALF HOUR.
HE SAYS HE’LL BE THERE.
Now, how to let him know. Hmm, maybe if I dress the part, I won’t have to tell him.
• • •
Major General Jack Montoya opened the door to his wife’s day quarters and came to a complete stop. Dead stop one might almost say.
He did not recognize the place.
In place of the usual spartan walls and furniture that made clear that his wife was business with no frills, the place looked like some quiet little hideaway.
The walls were made out like adobe, and there were red roof tiles. Flowering plants circled the wooden roof supports. The deck had been made into flagstones of several colors in a pattern that delighted the eye.
In the middle of all this, Kris sat at a wooden table.
He had to look twice to notice the table. Kris was wearing the white negligee that he’d bought her the last time they were dirtside on Alwa. The two thin straps allowed for a truly plunging neckline. Made of hand-tooled lace, it let her lovely skin play peekaboo with his hungry male eyes.
While the guy part of his brain lapped all this up, the major general section was hammering alarm bells.
WHAT’S UP? Jack asked Sal, his computer and one of Nelly’s kids.
I DON’T KNOW ANY MORE THAN YOU DO, BOSS. MOM’S BEEN OFF-LINE TO THE REST OF US KIDS FOR MOST OF THIS MORNING.
Throwing caution to the wind— who do you trust if you can’t trust your wife? —Jack stepped into this illusion and crossed quickly to seat himself across from his wife.
“Am I overdressed or underdressed?”
“You’re perfect, as usual,” Kris said.
“What’s that I smell?” Jack
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