Deserter Read Online Free Page B

dangerous critters in it: man. It’s got people who want this or that and frequently don’t want other people to have that or this. Latest news reports say Siris and Humboldt are this close to war,” he said, holding two fingers a few centimeters apart. “As a Princess—and yes, I know you hate the word—you can go lots of places an officer can’t or shouldn’t. You can learn and do things Wardhaven needs to know and get done. And I could help you as much as you could help me.”
    Kris turned back to stare out the window. The drop car passed rapidly into the atmosphere, causing fireflies of ionization. The dark of space was rapidly replaced by the haze of atmosphere. Below, Kris spotted the bay Wardhaven City wrapped itself around.
    When she rode the elevator up, on her way to Officer Candidate School, she’d been glad to be quit of the place. Now, having seen a few other places, Wardhaven looked mighty nice.
    Did she want to protect it?
    That’s why she put on the uniform. That and a wish to get out from under a father and mother who left very little air for their daughter. That and a desire to save a bit of this, do a bit of that.
    Which she’d done.
    Did she want to let this man call the shots for her now?
    It had to be better than the Firebolt, she reminded herself.
    But the Firebolt was a job for Lieutenant JG Kristine Anne Longknife. Not the Prime Minister’s brat, or the Princess, or the rich kid. This Admiral, if that was what he was, wanted her for all the things about her that she wanted to escape.
    She shook her head. “Sorry, Admiral, I’ve got this job. A ship depending on me. I wouldn’t want to disappoint my Captain.”
    “I doubt he’d shed a tear if you got new orders.”
    “Yes, but the Chief Engineer loves what me and Nelly do.”
    “My budget can get Dale a very good computer.”
    The bastard even knew the Chief Engineer’s first name. “What is it about no that you don’t understand?” Kris asked.
    “Just wanted to make sure no was no, ” the Admiral said, reaching in his pocket for an old-fashioned printed business card.
     
 
Maurice Crossenshild
Special Systems Analyst
Call anyplace, anytime
27-38-212-748-3001
     
 
Kris eyed the card for only a moment. She’d never seen a fifteen-digit phone number. Fourteen, yes. Fifteen! What did the two do? NELLY, YOU GOT IT?
    YES.
    Kris tore the card in half, then into quarters, and handed it back to the man. “Not interested.”
    He gave her a crack of a smile. “Would not have expected anything less from you, but Mac wanted me to try. Have a good evening. Maybe I’ll see you at the ball tonight.”
    “What rank should I look for?” Kris asked to his back, but, despite the sign flashing for all passengers to stay put, the man made his way out of the observation deck. And they say I don’t follow the rules. Kris snorted.
    Harvey, the old family chauffeur, was waiting for her as she left the ferry. Jack, her Protective Service agent, was right beside him. “How’d the test cruise go?” the driver asked as her agent eyed the surroundings.
    “Not good. Looks like we’ll be tied up for the next month while they try something new,” she told him. “So I’m off early. Think Lotty can scare up a bite to eat before I have to dress for tonight’s command performance?”
    “And when hasn’t my wife?” he said with a grin, then added softly, “Tru would like you to drop by when you have the time.”
    Kris raised an eyebrow. Aunty Tru was retired now from her job as Wardhaven’s Chief of Info War. Still, the honorary aunt had been helping Kris with her math and computer homework since first grade—and could cook up a fantastic batch of chocolate chip cookies.
    But when Tru quit trusting her messages to the net, life did get interesting. “Why don’t we drop by on the way home.”
    Harvey nodded. The car, not a limo today, but just as armored, was in a reserved security lot, something new to the area around the elevator