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446 pages, Paperback
First published April 12, 2022
Chief Boudreqx rolled the ship until the belly faced Kremlin and the cockpit looed out into open space...open except for her.
The Interceptor. The front of her hull was painted like a shark’s head, but it was old and faded, scratched and worn.
Jacob had spent most of his life waiting for this moment, and in it, all his concerns about his past, his present, and his future faded away.
He didn’t care if she looked like a beaten prizefighter with her armored hull dented and streaked from action. Or if the turrets were scratched, streaked, and patched.
Only that she was his.
He wasn’t in uniform, but the cap was a universal spacer adornment. Ships were almost always on the cold side, enough to be uncomfortable without warm clothes and a watch cap. If a ship was warm, something was terribly wrong.