Daring by Mike Shepherd Page B

from the Wasp to the Fury . Kris turned to Ron. “Shall I take you to your quarters? I understand nothing’s changed.”
    â€œThat would be very gracious of you,” Ron said. “Though I should point out, I well remember the path from your Forward Lounge to my quarters. I suspect I could even find my way without all your scientists marking the path, waiting in line to pose questions for me.”
    â€œWas it that bad?” Kris asked.
    The press at the door was almost gridlock. Kris and her team waited for others to file out. Since the admirals hadn’t demanded that sailors of different fleets make a hole for them, Kris didn’t think she should.
    Penny nudged Kris. “We’re not moving all that much. Any chance we could grab a chair, sit down, and talk a bit about what all this means?”
    Kris shook her head. “Penny, this is just too much for me. I’ve got to sleep on it. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”
    Penny didn’t seem happy with Kris’s decision, but she said nothing more.
    Ron was interested in how Kris had spent her time since he left. It took her mind off the present to describe the fun of chasing pirates and claiming new territory . . . for the hostile Peterwald Empire.
    He considered that funny . . . and time better spent than his own. He’d been locked down in the Imperial Palace. He was required to be available on five-minute notice to meet with several very important committees. He was required to wait upon them . . . but in the end they never called him for a personal report.
    He brought his hands together and moved his four thumbs in circles around each other. “Do you have a saying like that?”
    â€œTwiddling your thumbs?” Kris said with a laugh, as she and her team finally passed through the doors from the Forward Lounge into the passageway that led aft.
    The next moment an explosion threw Kris against Ron.
    Jack crashed into her back and they all ended up in a heap on the deck.
    Behind them, the swinging doors of the Forward Lounge blew out. Immediately, the airtight doors slammed shut and clanged as they locked down.
    â€œHull Breach,” the public-address system announced. “Hull Breach in the Forward Lounge.”

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    Kris scrambled back to her feet. Jack tried to push her aft, but the passageway was a solid mass of people, all trying to regain their feet and move in the same direction.
    Preferably at the same time.
    Kris edged her way around Jack so she could get a better view through one of the small vision plates in the airtight doors.
    All she saw was smoke. Something had exploded. Some of the furniture had caught fire. The smoke didn’t last long as both air and smoke were sucked out through several rents in the hull.
    One body, Kris hoped he was already dead, went with the smoke.
    The checkered tabletops, however, were also doing their job. Some had caught fire. But others held their circular form and rode on the blasting air currents toward the rents in the ship’s structure. On the ceiling, valves opened, releasing globs of sealant that also rode the wind torrents to help the deforming tabletops shore up the holes.
    All this was done quickly enough that the other bar crew were able to keep their holds on whatever they had grabbed and avoid being sucked out into the cold vacuum.
    â€œPressure has been stabilized in the Forward Lounge. Make way for damage control parties. Clear the passageways for damage-control parties,” the ship’s computer repeated.
    â€œKris,” Jack said.
    â€œYes, yes,” Kris said, backing up and taking the first turn off the main passageway so that a dozen sailors in space suits carrying gear could pass her.
    â€œPenny. Penny,” Kris called.
    The cop’s daughter was at her elbow in a moment.
    â€œThat was no accident,” Kris said. “Get a forensic team together from Jack’s Marines. By breakfast tomorrow morning, I want to know what