Deserter

Chapter 9

By nine, Abby had outdone herself. Kris relaxed through sinful pampering and finished in a bright red gown that would have left Mother drooling, and did leave Jack asking where to put the bullseye. Kris made a face. ''You'd have to paint it on me.'' She was showing more skin than she had since Father caught a picture of her as she bounced around the beach on a hot summer day in bottoms only. Of course, then, she'd only been four.

Kris swished the skirt and discovered she liked the feel of this new self. She still wasn't sure how Abby had gotten her into a backless, strapless push-up bra, but it seemed to involve glue, and Kris did not look forward to taking it off. The front looped over her neck, spread just enough to cover the essentials, then dropped to her waist. Kris was proud of that narrow asset; it was something she owned all by herself. From there hung several gauzy skirts, ready to go their separate ways as she walked. If Kris moved quickly, bare skin flashed openly. Most of the time, there was at least one thin layer of flaming red between her and the world. The most substantial material in the entire rig was the sash of the Order of the Wounded Lion cutting across from the right breast to the left hip.

The only thing more interesting than seeing how this planet's fashion police would respond to her dress tomorrow would be to see Sandfire's face tonight when he saw what she'd earned blowing his last plot out of space.

''And to top it all off,'' Abby said, presenting the golden confection of a tiara Mother had bought. Kris frowned at it. Several thin strands circled among a finely beaten wisp of webbing. The patina showed the actual hammer marks… or claimed to. Kris's eyes detected a repetitive pattern; she studied the rear of the crown. Yes, there it was; the tiny data entry port. Not only was the dang thing smart metal, but its maker had been too cheap to use a radio hookup! So much for Mother's claim it was from Earth's dark ages, twentieth century or earlier. Abby settled the tiara on her head, then returned once more with an automatic and Nelly.

''And here's where we put these,'' Abby said, settling both weapon and computer into place around Kris's hips. A thin wire, cosmetically covered, connected Nelly to Kris's implant.

''If I'd known I was going to be decked out like this regularly, I'd have had a backup jack put in my belly button.''

''Not a good place,'' Abby said with a knowing frown. ''One of my employers tried that. Too much tummy rumbling. And when a guy danced too close, or got on top, reception went all to hell.''

''One of your former employers,'' Kris said.

''I don't stay around the dumb ones long.''

''So, is my idea of walking right up to Sandfire dumb?''

The maid stopped her fussing about Kris, eyed her a moment, then gave a quick shake of her head. ''We won't know until we're done. Besides, he pretty much has you where he wants you, and there's not a lot you can do.'' Abby chuckled. ''Mr. Sandfire may rue the day he left you with nothing much to do.''

''Empty hands being the devil's workshop and all that,'' Kris agreed. She did not like being in anyone's trap. Sooner or later, she would get out. Kris took several steps, testing the three-inch heels Abby insisted were perfect for this getup. The many-layered gown shimmered and flashed, and Kris stayed upright.

She paused at the door to her room to take in her friends. Tommy and Penny stood waiting in dress uniforms, his dashing, hers frumpy. Jack looked dapper in formal tails. ''Well, crew, let's see what Turantic nightlife has to offer at the Top.''

''Yeah,'' said Tom, offering Kris an arm, ''we saw the bottom last night.''

At the door, Kris faced four unsmiling men in white ties, tails, and earplug comm devices, as well as two women in black gowns. ''Six,'' she said over her shoulder to Jack.

''That's just a start. I'd have had more if I could.''

Kris swallowed a question about who was paying; that had to be the least of her worries. With a smile and a nod to her new security, Kris crossed the threshold. Down the hall were two more agents. Mr. Klaggath held a spacious and richly apportioned slide car for them. ''Everything is cleared,'' he told Jack.

''Is all this necessary?'' Kris asked, entering the car.

''Princess, you play your part. I'll do mine,'' Jack said as he took station ahead of her, four or five agents to his right and left. Penny stepped back to stand beside Kris.

Like a good Princess, Kris settled comfortably onto the couch at the rear of the car and prepared for a long ride up to the Top of Turantic. The car accelerated sideways smoothly and rapidly. WE ARE UNDER OBSERVATION, Nelly advised Kris. THERE ARE SEVERAL BUGS IN THE ELEVATOR'S CHANDELIER.

I EXPECT WE WILL BE FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT.

''No stops,'' Kris said, inviting Penny to join her on the couch for what looked to be a long ride.

''No. The yard has its own bank of elevators, they told us. We've got an express from the old station to the Top.''

Kris mulled that over. ''The Nuu yards share the ferry with High Wardhaven,'' she said slowly.

''Well, High Turantic is proud that its yards have their own totally secure lifts from planet straight to the yard,'' Penny said, apparently quoting someone's advertising cover.

Kris let that roll around for a moment, then swallowed an ''interesting'' before it got out. Instead, Kris raised an eyebrow at Penny. The woman returned just the hint of a smile as if she, too, was finding that bit of data suddenly more interesting than before. NELLY, REMIND ME TO LOOK INTO WHY A SPACE DOCK NEEDS ITS OWN FERRY.

YES, KRIS.

Much sooner than Kris expected, the slide car came to a gentle halt, and she walked into her first surprise of the night. She had expected a ballroom, probably larger than any she'd frequented on Wardhaven, but still a ballroom. What she found as the elevator opened was not so much a room as a place.

Thirty thousand kilometers above the surface of the planet, the cylinder of the station rotated, giving Kris a sense that the floor was down. The ceilings above usually kept her from gasping at the reality. There was no ceiling here. The void reached out above her head. On one side was glass, letting in the vast dark of space and pinprick stars. Opposite that was one huge mirror, echoing, and, if possible, enlarging space. And in a ring between them, going out in both directions and meeting above her head, was a place of places.

Kris needed a whole new meaning for extravagant. Mother had, on occasion, reminded a younger Kris that a lady does not let her mouth hang open. ''She might swallow a fly.'' Tonight, only the fear of swallowing a surveillance bug kept Kris's mouth shut as she took in the breathtaking view.

The slide cars opened on a marble stage with a daunting view. By carefully applying pressure to Tommy's arm, she steered him in a walk around the entire panorama. Three broad stairways curved lazily around, taking people down some twenty meters into different venues.

''Wow,'' Tommy finally whispered.

''Here's a place Grampa could use as a palace,'' Kris said.

''Looks like it was made with that in mind,'' Jack observed dryly, which raised an eyebrow from Penny. Maybe empire building was no longer a metaphor.

''And here comes the Emperor now,'' Tommy whispered.

Disgorging from a newly arrived car was a bevy of sparkling but scarcely clad women. Almost lost in their glitter was a single man attired soberly in black. Black tie, black shirt, black tails and pants. His waist and neck alone gleamed gold: one was girded by a cummerbund; from the other hung a sign of office appropriate for a Royal Chamberlain of yore.

Kris aimed Tommy at him, approaching the dark man much as a smiling matador might have done the most dangerous of horned bulls in the now-banned sport of bullfighting.

''Interesting choice of jewelry,'' Kris said as she came to a stop before her host.

Apparently too lost in chatter with his harem to notice her, he glanced around at her words. He might have gone back to ignoring her for longer, but he blinked as his eyes passed over Kris's own jewelry. Maybe the merest shadow of a frown creased his lips, but it was gone in a moment. ''I might say the same of yours,'' he said softly.

''Mine had to be earned,'' Kris said, fingering the medallion at her waist.

He ran his hand lazily over his golden breastplate. ''This, a minor bauble. I'm told it has some historical significance. I just like how it impresses the girls,'' he said patting one of his collection on her bare rump. Kris did not blink but held his eyes with her own. She didn't miss the hint of commotion behind him among two of his women. One stared at Tom on Kris's elbow, then, with slight eye flicks and nods, drew the notice of her associates to him. Very interesting.

Sandfire broke from her gaze with a diffident wave at their surroundings. ''Let me introduce you to what some are calling my Pleasure Dome.'' Sandfire stepped forward, offering Kris his elbow. With a slight bow to Kris, Tom stepped back to join Penny and Jack. The two entourages re-formed in half circles around their primaries, Kris with her security detail to her right, Sandfire with his herd of lovelies to his left.

Now Kris let her eyes wander up to the star-studded wall and marveled. ''It certainly is a lovely dome.''

''Yes, but as in so much of life, it depends on what you fill it with. I was so glad that you were in town, and, shall we say, caught between flights. But I do not restrict the pleasures of this place to the likes of us,'' Sandfire said, leading Kris in a circle of the platform. ''What kind of worlds would the Rim become if such a view as this was reserved for only the elite?''

Sandfire did not pause long enough in his monologue for Kris to mention the people of Katyville. ''We have restaurants with cuisine drawn from every corner of human space.'' The middle staircase sent people into a market setting filled with sidewalk cafes, pushcart merchants, and small alcoves. The right stairs led down to a dancing fountain with its own merchants and eateries. ''The water is not just for show. There is a hippodrome for all kinds of water sports and diversions,'' he said, pointing above their heads. ''We have the best in sound control technology so people enjoying one part here do not trouble those around them.''

At the foot of the left staircase was a garden, full of flowerbeds, hedges, and small tables. In the distance above Kris, scores of couples swirled to what must have been an ancient waltz, but she heard nothing.

Behind Kris, a car opened to squeals of delight. Children, ranging in ages from four to maybe twelve, hurried from the lift under the watchful eyes of parents or primly dressed nannies. They raced down the first staircase, oblivious to calls of ''No running,'' ''Hold on to the rail,'' and ''Hold your sister's hand,'' that trailed behind them.

Sandfire smiled at the children. The smile was twisted, like a snake might give a bird before it snapped it up. ''The Rim worlds are young and growing. How could we have a fun place for people without a place for their children as well?''

''Seems a bit past their bedtime,'' Kris said with a shiver.

''But people work on very many schedules. Our population is growing so fast, many of the schools are on two and three shifts. It works out well for parents who are on swing or night shift to have their children on a similar schedule. I suspect our Youth Fun Park is busy twenty-four hours a day. It's quite a scene. If you stay long, do drop by and enjoy it.''

''I'll keep that in mind,'' Kris said, her back suddenly crawling. So this is how the bird feels.

''I believe we are late for the ball.'' Sandfire smiled.

''Then let me return to Tom, and I will return you to your lady,'' Kris said, intentionally using the singular.

Sandfire handed Kris off to Tom without a missed step. ''Do I know you, young man?'' he asked the man he'd kidnapped.

''I don't think we've been formally introduced,'' Tom said, not missing a beat… or choking on the words. ''I'm Lieutenant Tom Lien, Wardhaven Navy.'' He did not offer his hand.

''I'm Calvin Sandfire, entrepreneur of some success. If you ever need a job, look me up.''

''I doubt I'll ever have such a need,'' Tom said, taking Kris's arm and leading her toward the broad staircase that would take them to the garden of dancing couples.

''Oh, I almost forgot,'' Sandfire said after them. ''We've had an infestation of nanos of undetermined ability and origin. Our security nanos are, of course, doing their best to control them, but you might want to avoid saying anything you don't want to see splashed over some newsie tomorrow. You know how they are.''

''Thank you,'' Kris said with well-oiled grace. ''We've had the same problem in my suite. I'm told by my security people,'' she said with a shallow bow in Jack's direction, ''that they've had to destroy a major plague of the little beasties. I can only assume there is no limit to what some news channels will do to get a few embarrassing pictures of a Princess?''

''Disgusting behavior,'' Sandfire agreed as he and his women headed away from the ball. ''The price we pay for democracy.''

''Hating that man is easy,'' Tom said as he led Kris down the thickly carpeted marble staircase.

''No talk of classified items,'' Kris said through her smile.

''Well, he has to know I hate his guts,'' Tom answered without disturbing his smile.

''Tom has a point,'' Jack said from behind them.

''Yes, he does, but let's keep it cool and light tonight,'' Kris said. At the foot of the stairs stood a man in knee britches and a cloth-of-gold waistcoat. He held a richly carved wood staff topped by a silver ball. As Kris reached the last step, he pounded his staff on the floor for attention.

''May I present Her Royal Highness, Princess Kristine of Wardhaven, and her escort.''

''Show time, crew. Let's make sure the paying customers get their money's worth,'' Kris ordered glibly.

The next moment, Kris was drowning in society. She used her best survival skills to keep a smile on her face and her hand attached to her arm. That, as usual, proved to be more difficult than it should have, some men viewing any handshake weaker than a bear claw as somehow beneath their masculinity.

Then there were those who felt familiar enough to kiss, peck, or slobber all over her cheek. NELLY, NOTE TO ABBY: FIND A FACE CREAM THAT'S SLIGHTLY BITTER. MAYBE DERIVED FROM POISON IVY.

IF YOU SAY SO, KRIS.

I SAY SO.

One of her socially empowered assailants let drop that they had been waiting for her arrival since she boarded her elevator. ''What delayed you?''

Kris dodged the cross-examination with a smile and a turn to face another open mouth. That brought her into the inane conversations. ''Are you enjoying your visit?'' ''Have you had a chance to visit our hunting reserves on North Continent?'' ''You really must take in our beaches along South Coast. Some of them don't even require bathing suits,'' came with either a leer or titter not always depending on the sex of the speaker. Kris managed safe replies to all, danced with several young men who seemed reasonably likely to stay off her feet. She guessed wrong a few times. What was missing from the bubble around her was any mention of politics or the quarantine. Kris breasted the flow of talk, feeling much like a salmon swimming upstream. Her one prayer was that if she ever found relief, spawning would not be required.

Quite suddenly, when she doubted there was another ''Hello,'' ''So glad to see you,'' or ''What a lovely evening'' in her, she did stumble into a quiet pool. As the lull descended, Kris found herself in the company of a single couple. They were, thanks to some gracious god, either at a loss for words or of that rare human subspecies that faced silence without fear.

Kris allowed her smile to wilt. ''I never thought this Princess thing could be such hard work,'' she half laughed to the thin, balding man in a white dinner jacket.

The woman beside him, blond and in a short blue party dress, chuckled along with her. ''I doubt my mother would agree it held a candle to when she soldiered alongside your Grampa Trouble.''

''When did she know Grampa?'' Kris's eyes lit up. Here was a real conversation.

''She was a Private, drafted during the Unity War.''

''Ouch,'' Kris said. ''I've been told I was lucky he lived long enough to have kids. Sounds like we share the same luck.''

''That was what her mother often told her,'' the man said, giving his wife the kind of smile a man does when he knows just how lucky he is.

Kris glanced around. No convivial attack horde seemed imminent, so she moved to a table, sat, then invited the couple to join her. ''How long have you been here on Turantic?'' Kris asked.

''My mom and dad settled here,'' the woman said. ''I met Mel at the university. His family dates back to the first landing, and he's insisted I put down solid roots,'' she said, resting her hand on her husband's.

''My wife is being coy.'' The man smiled. ''She represents the Twelfth Senatorial District, while I'm a mere accountant with Haywood Industries. We do a lot of heavy fabrication work. Turantic is a very lovely place to raise a child. Our daughter was skiing this afternoon, and she'll be racing in this weekend's regatta. How many places have that within a hundred miles of home?''

''Not many. I'm hoping to see more of your planet, since I can't seem to arrange a ride home.''

''Oh, yes, that plague is horrible,'' the Senator agreed.

''Nuu Pharmaceuticals has a vaccine. Isn't any available?''

The two exchanged glances; the man looked away. The woman took a deep breath. ''I have nothing official on this, but some of the people I know have heard things on the news. You know how you can't trust half of what you hear from a newsie.'' Kris nodded, wondering why the Senator was suddenly dancing around bushes. ''Well, I've heard there is a Nuu outlet in Heidelburg, but they won't release the vaccine until the government agrees to pay five thousand dollars, Wardhaven, per shot.''

''Yes,'' Kris agreed, ''that is one of Grampa Al's tax scams. He set that price on the vaccine, then always donates it for the tax write-off.''

''There's no talk of donating it this time,'' the husband said. ''Maybe with communications being down and all that.''

''The donation is standard policy,'' Kris snapped. ''Nelly, get me the Nuu Pharm distributor dirtside.''

''I placed a call to that number when it was first mentioned,'' her computer said, sounding rather proud of herself for being a step ahead of her mistress. ''No one is answering.''

''I don't care if they pick up their phone, Nelly,'' Kris said, knowing that her smile had turned anything but pleasant. ''Activate the phone and turn up the volume,'' Kris said, hoping she wasn't breaking too many Turantic privacy laws in front of a serving legislator. The Senator was smiling.

''Done, ma'am,'' Nelly said.

''This is Kris Longknife, one of Nuu Enterprises' primary shareholders. Who am I talking to?''

HAROLD WINFORD IS THE MANAGER, Nelly put in.

THANKS, NELLY, BUT I WANT HIM TO TELL ME.

''Me,'' came a groggy voice, ''Harry Winford. Who'd you say you are?''

''I'm Kris Longknife, and I can have my computer tell you exactly how large my holdings are in Nuu Enterprises if that will help me get your attention.''

''No, I remember. You're that Princess Longknife. I heard you were going to some ball or something tonight.''

''I am at a ball; if it will help you, I can turn up the volume so you can hear the music.''

''No, no, don't need to do that.''

''Well, Harry, the social chitchat turned to this and that, and what should pop out but a mention that someone on Turantic had some of Grandpa Al's Ebola vaccine and wasn't releasing it.''

''I can't release it.''

''Harry,'' Kris turned up the syrup, ''we don't charge anyone five thousand a shot. We donate it and take the tax break.''

''I know, ma'am. I've read the company policy.''

''So why isn't the media full of NuuE giving the stuff away?''

''Because I don't have it to give.''

''What!'' The Senator and her husband had been following the conversation. Mel seemed to enjoy the mental image of another manager being in way over his head when the boss called. The Senator nodded at the crackle of political power. Now both frowned in puzzlement, which about summed up Kris, too.

''Ma'am, my computer told me this morning I had one hundred thousand vials of vaccine, good for maybe five million shots. I went looking for the vials and found a big, gaping hole on my shelves. Not one bottle. Nothing.''

''When did you last check them?''

''Last full inventory was four months ago.''

''You tell the police?'' Kris asked, glancing around for Inspector Klaggath. He was busy talking into his wrist unit.

''I reported it. Three cops showed up, did the usual, had me sign lots of stuff. I've told the media, but every damn person I tell I've been robbed just looks at me and asks how much.''

Kris sighed; she was none too sure she believed his story. ''Excuse the interruption, Harry; you can go back to sleep.''

''Yeah, like I can.''

Now Kris faced the Senator. It had been quite a power rash to be the miracle worker. Right up to the point where she walked off a cliff. She shrugged, an interesting action in the outfit she had on. ''Now you know as much as I know.''

''But who stole it?'' Mel said.

''Inspector Klaggath?'' Kris said.

''Excuse me, ma'am,'' he said, coming forward. ''That's not my line of work. I've got calls out, and I may be able to tell you something before too long, but I'll just be passing info. I won't know anything extra.''

''But the theft isn't getting out to the media!'' Kris said, mindful of the growing public relations disaster.

''If theft it is,'' the Inspector said.

Kris had no answer for that. And whatever had given her this momentary respite must have ended, because a milling herd appeared headed her way. ''Looks like it's back to shaking hands and smiling,'' she said, standing.

''Oh, we didn't even introduce ourselves, Mel,'' the Senator said, standing as well. ''I'm Kay Krief, this is my husband Mel. Our daughter, Nara, will be racing this weekend. I hope you can come by her boat and wish her luck,'' Kay said, offering her hand and an official card.

''I'd be glad to,'' Kris said, taking the card and passing it to Penny. Kris had no idea where to stash a card in her gown.

''Nara would be delighted,'' Mel said.

''I'll call you,'' Kris said and turned to face what proved to be a mob with a center. Ambassador Middenmite smiled and presented a man of medium height and healthy build, ''Izzic Iedinka, the President of Turantic.''

Kris held out her hand, and the President, instead of shaking it, kissed it, doing it rather well. Returning to his full height, which made him an inch shorter than Kris, he said, ''I hope you are enjoying your stay. Did you come here on business?''

''Initially business,'' Kris said, ''which was quickly finished. Now I find myself staying here for pleasure.''

''Ah, yes, the quarantine. I'm afraid that can't be helped.''

''I just heard that the supply of Ebola vaccine that Nuu Pharmaceuticals has on the planet has been stolen.''

''Excuse me, there's a vaccine for this thing?'' A woman at his elbow stepped forward and whispered something to him. ''There is? Why wasn't I told about that?'' He turned back to Kris with a wan smile. ''Seems like it has kind of been walked off with, I guess. I'm sure my police will have something to tell us by morning. Right?'' he said, half over his shoulder.

''Yes, Mr. President.''

''It's sad to see it stolen,'' Kris said with the most sincere smile she could manufacture, ''since it is my grandfather's policy not to make money off of such terrible events. My representative on Turantic has already assured me that he was pulling the vaccine from storage to donate it to the relief effort.''

''He was? Now that's mighty fine of him,'' the President drawled, ''but you'll pardon an old horse trader if I tell you that you can't stay in business doing things like that.''

''I can't agree with you more.'' Kris smiled. ''But we find the tax write-off for the donation covers our costs quite well.''

''Ah, right,'' the President said, making a gun out of his finger and shooting Kris. ''That's a businessman I understand.''

Kris expected he could. ''I've got a call into Nuu Enterprises to send a fast packet for me. It can bring in more vaccine. I sent the message early this morning, but I haven't heard that it's gone out.''

''Not likely it will, young lady,'' the President told her. ''Seems the fire in our communications center here on the station did more damage than they thought, even to the stuff that was still working. It's all down. They tell me they're scrounging all over Turantic for stuff they can use to get it back up.''

Which left Kris really and truly stranded here. ''Any chance I could buy a ship to take me off planet?''

''Nope. Until we can certify we've got a clean bill of health, I've ordered all shipping locked down. If a ship even powers up, there'll be a passel of guards seeing why, and if one actually managed to get away, our station gunners have orders to shoot any ship making for a jump point. I take my responsibility to the rest of humanity very seriously,'' he said, putting a hand to the vest of his tux.

Time to switch topics. ''I've been told you have an election coming up soon.'' Kris smiled.

''Yep, one month, twenty-six days. But who's counting?'' He chuckled. ''It's probably the most important election to face us since the first ship landed on Turantic. Things have changed. Humanity has to change with it, and so do we,'' he said, launching into what sounded far too much like The Canned Speech. But before Kris could stop him, he stopped himself. ''I'll be talking at a $250,000-a-plate dinner later this evening. You'll be coming by, won't you?''

''My schedule is amazingly light this evening,'' Kris told him.

''I'll look for you there,'' the President said and seemed to be ready to move on. However, a young man had stepped forward to whisper something to him. ''It is?'' the President said, and the man pointed at Kris's waist. For a moment the President seemed to really take Kris in, his nostrils flaring a bit at what he saw. ''I'm told that is the Earth Order of the Wounded Lion you're wearing there, girl.''

''Yes, Mr. President.'' Here was something Kris could enjoy.

''More often than not, that's only given out posthumously.''

''As you can see, I'm very much alive.''

''I've heard several different stories about what actually happened between the Earth Battle Fleet and the Wardhaven Fleet at the Paris system a few months ago.''

''I was there,'' Kris said proudly, ''and I heard quite a few different stories about what happened, too.'' And you're not going to hear my story from me, Mr. President.

''Very confusing situation,'' the President muttered, glancing over his shoulder at his adviser. ''Very confusing.''

''I'm sure you've heard the old saw about the fog of war, Mr. President,'' Kris replied, too proud of herself to let it drop but choosing her words carefully. ''The farther you get out on the tip of the spear, the foggier it is, sir, and at Paris, I was about as far out on the tip as it got.''

Tommy, who'd stood quietly through all this, leaned close to Kris's ear and muttered, ''And not have the damn spear jammed up your ass.''

The President apparently didn't catch Tom's words. He shook his head, repeated, ''Very confusing,'' one more time, and headed off for other hands to shake and contributions to collect. Kris, however, caught at the Ambassador's elbow.

''Sir, I've got a problem. In my day job, I'm in the Navy. I'm about halfway through a week's leave, and since I'm not headed back already, it looks like I'm not only going to overstay my leave but not be able to report my situation. Do you have a military attaché that I could at least check in with?''

''I don't know, Your Highness. I guess there are some uniform types on my staff.'' Penny, at Kris's other elbow, cleared her throat. The Ambassador glanced at her as if seeing her for the first time this evening. ''Ah, yes, I do know you. You work for me, don't you?''

''In Military Exchanges and Procurement, sir.''

''Well, you'll look after her, won't you? Try to keep her out of trouble. I've heard stories about the Prime Minister's brat, don't you think I haven't, young woman,'' the Ambassador said, softening his words with a grandfatherly grin.

If he chucks me under my chin, I'm going to kick him in the groin, Kris promised herself, but he turned and followed the President toward the political side, leaving Kris with a choice: stay with the sociables or go heel to toe with Turantic's political power. Apparently, declaring Wardhaven foreign didn't mean the President didn't want her money, even royal donations. Kris shook her head; Grampa Ray had made sure she spent a day listening to the things she could not do anymore. Joining the politicians would be throwing herself into the deep end of someone else's pool, a deep end that probably wanted her on record for things Grampa Ray was still dodging. At least among the socials she hadn't met a shark she couldn't out-gnaw.

She turned back to the party.

For the next half hour, Kris mingled. More talk of weather, how beautiful Turantic was, how nice it was to be out from under Earth's thumb, and how great her great-grandparents were back then with about half of them wondering what had gotten into Grampa Ray to let himself be made a King. The other half loved the idea. And, of course, there were the mothers offering Kris their very available bachelor sons for spousal consideration. Fortunately, few were present. Those who were ranged from gawkily awkward to boorishly forward. Kris wondered if it was too late to join a nunnery rather than the Navy.

Just as Kris was about to declare that she'd suffered enough and had earned the right to retreat back to her hotel suite, Senator Krief showed up again, this time with nearly a dozen other people. They rather deftly cut Kris out from the mob and edged her into a quiet corner with tables and chairs. ''You looked like you could use rescuing,'' Kay said.

''I could use something,'' Kris agreed.

''A drink?'' Mel asked. Kris mentioned something light and soft; the man stepped away as his wife did introductions.

''I thought you'd like to meet a few of the folks who won't be at the President's fund-raiser. Senator Kui,'' a small, white-haired man bowed slightly to Kris, ''and his wife,'' a woman in a red kimono-type gown smiled. ''Senator Showkowski,'' a large woman in a bright blue gown nodded, ''and her husband,'' an even larger man in a poorly tied white tie and tails neither smiled nor nodded but looked at Kris like he might a spider. Senator LaCross was a tall, willowy man who bowed graciously to Kris. ''And his spouse,'' introduced another man slightly shorter but just as thin. He affected a bow as deep as the Senator's.

Mel returned with drinks for all. Kris took a sip and settled herself in place. A glance around showed Jack had her agents in a semicircle that would not only protect her from stray bullets but might just block out any enthusiastic mother.

The others settled into chairs, glanced around among themselves, and said nothing.

''So,'' Mr. Showkowski growled into the silence, ''Wardhaven gunna keep us under its thumb just like Earth?''

''Dennis,'' his senatorial wife said with a frown.

''Well, that is what you all want to know. Politicians! You're afraid to ask. Well, Longknife, what's it gunna be?''

Now it really was show time. Kris sat forward. ''Not being a politician myself, I can give you a straight answer. I don't know. Why do you ask?''

''You don't know?'' Senator LaCross said.

''Hey, folks, my day job is with the Navy. My nights are pretty much full of this Princess gig. Doesn't leave a lot of time for tracking the media. You may have me confused with my father or great-grandfather,'' Kris said, all smile.

''We kind of assumed you would know what they had up their sleeves,'' Kay Krief said.

Kris raised her very bare arms. ''Nothing up mine. And I really think most politicians on Wardhaven are just as much in the dark as you are about what the United Sentients will do.''

''I find that hard to believe,'' said Senator Kui.

''You're talking about eighty sovereign planets,'' Kris pointed out. ''Each has a vote in the legislature. They aren't even sure if it's going to be a one-, two-, or three-house legislature, last I heard.''

''But King Ray is—'' Dennis Showkowski began.

Kris cut him off. ''Has no veto power, no authority to propose legislation. He controls nothing but his own words.''

''But I thought that making him King would mean all of the policies he advocated for the Society of Humanity would be carried over into the United Sapients thing.''

''Sentients,'' Kris corrected and shook her head. ''Listen, the only real reason for making Grampa King was to take my family and its money out of U. S. politics. Did my father resign as Prime Minister of Wardhaven? No. Does anyone on Wardhaven call him Prince? Not twice.'' Dad had blustered and flustered and gotten the Prince thing dropped. Kris had tried, to no avail. ''Truth is, no one knows what any of this stuff means. You pay your money and you take your ride,'' she quoted one of her father's favorite sayings. ''And if you want to have a say, you get on board soonest before everything gets settled and bureaucrats are saying, ‘But we've always done it that way.' ''

That brought a smile from the legislators around her.

''So you're saying that King Ray ain't going to force his Wardhaven Treaty on this United whatever thing,'' Dennis said.

Kris took a deep breath. This was something she knew Grampa Ray's thinking on. ''I have heard Grampa Ray say that he thinks it's time for us to do more exploring. The Iteeche War came from a lot of problems. We met the aliens when human pirates stumbled on their fringe planets run by their lawless ones. Humans and the Iteeches will never see eye-to-eye. I think Grampa Ray is all for a licensed, organized scouting of near Rim space. We're six hundred planets. Humanity has to expand faster now. Earth was wrong in trying to slow us down.''

''You're sure that's his view?'' Senator Krief said.

''Yes.''

''But, as you say, he has no authority to enforce that view,'' Senator Kui said, smiling softly.

Kris shrugged. ''You know my Grampa Ray.''

''Yes,'' came from several Senators.

''Now, if we could just hear it from him.''

''Message him,'' Kris said. ''I'm sure he'd agree with me.''

''Can't. Can't message anyone,'' Dennis exploded. ''I've got contracts to fill. Can't ship my goods. Can't tell anyone I'll be late. Can't tell them when I'll ship! Damn, this is a mess!''

''This situation is already disrupting business,'' Senator LaCross said. ''My contacts tell me layoffs will start tomorrow. Once that hits the news, panic will not be far behind.''

''And there are already rumors that the Ebola outbreak followed by the comm fire is just too much of a coincidence,'' Mel Krief said, glancing around the group. ''Way too much.''

Kris certainly was in agreement, but what she knew she would not share here. ''What makes you say that?''

''The competition between our neighbor Hamilton and us has gotten almost cutthroat of late. And the last year or two, there have been rumors of what you might call dirty tricks. Ship Captains that were supposed to deliver here but took a bribe to take a long cut and deliver late. Certain containers that got off-loaded there instead of here. You know, the stuff that aggravates but never rises to a level of legal action. Then their legislature lowers taxes on certain properties so their business can out-compete us. And last month they slapped a tariff on our wine,'' Mel said, shaking his head. ''Every week, it's something new. Heaven only knows what they're doing now.''

''That's what I'm afraid of,'' Dennis growled.

''So there's bad blood between you,'' Kris said.

''Yes,'' Kay agreed, ''and with the end of the Society, you can't forget that in the bad old days, these kinds of things were settled with warships and armies.''

''How could we forget with ‘A Flag for Black Mountain,' this summer's runaway hit?'' Senator Kui said.

''Bet your Grampa Trouble doesn't know he's the idol of half the kids on Turantic,'' LaCross said.

''Knowing Grampa Trouble, I doubt he'd like that.''

''So you see,'' Kay said, ''we really need agreements on trade, a central court to handle disputes and very quickly, some public health regulations, and doctors to clear up this quarantine.''

''Why don't you legislate them yourselves?'' Kris asked.

''I don't often agree with the Tories,'' Kay said, ''but we can't just declare ourselves healthy. Everyone has to agree we are, or any ship that stops here won't be able to stop anyplace else. The breakup of the Society came way too fast for us.''

''Not fast enough for me,'' Dennis spat. ''Well, maybe we didn't think all of it through, but we had to get rid of Earth.''

''Yes, we rid ourselves of Earth, but what have we taken on in its place?'' Kui asked.

No one had an answer for that. And three matronly women were bearing down on the circle of Kris's guards, one with a tall wisp of a son stumbling along in tow. ''I see I must get back to my social responsibilities,'' Kris said, standing.

''Did I mention my son?'' Senator Showkowski said, only half smiling.

''Send a photo,'' Kris said, turning to Jack. ''The sooner you get me to the slide car, the less likely I'll kill someone.''

''Your wish is my pleasure,'' her Security Agent replied.

Kris surfed through several mothers with a smile and a wave. She was making good time for the car when the lights blinked. WE HAVE TAKEN A POWER HIT! ALL SECURITY IS DOWN

Nelly's report was overpowered by Jack's soft order: ''Down!''

Kris began to stoop, her right hand going for her automatic, but Penny had other plans. Kris's legs were taken out from under her as the Navy Lieutenant did a leg sweep. Kris twisted around as she fell, still reaching for her gun as Tommy did what she had so often dreamed of.

The young man settled atop her. His arms went out to gentle his landing, a familiar smile on his face.

Then he shook as the first dart slammed into him. Shock replaced the smile as another spasm marked a second hit. By the third, his face only showed dismay.

Kris quit fumbling for her gun and grabbed for Tom, trying to break his fall, bring him down gently beside her. But now Penny collapsed on top of both of them. Jack shouted for someone to get the shooter. Everywhere there were screams.

Kris ignored them all, trying to hold Tom's head, console him, ease his pain, but Penny was still trying to cover her and getting in the way. ''Damn it, woman, can't you see Tommy's hit.''

''But I'm not,'' Tommy said.

''Yes you are,'' Kris snapped.

''Well, yes I am, but I think this coat stopped them,'' Tom said. ''But you can keep holding me if you want.''

''We're supposed to be protecting her,'' Penny growled.

''What is happening here?'' Kris almost screeched.

''Penny said this coat should stop anything short of heavy artillery,'' Tommy said, ''and I guess it did.''

''Can I get up yet?'' Kris asked no one.

''Just a moment more,'' Jack said, back still to Kris. Around her, four of her Agents had formed a wall, guns out, facing out. Through their legs, Kris saw a wide empty space, then more people milling about. Two agents, Inspector Klaggath with them, were now backing their way toward Jack, guns out, eyes on the crowd.

''We did not get the shooter,'' Klaggath said.

''Central,'' Jack said, ''do you have video on the shooter?''

Kris didn't hear the answer, but Jack's rare use of profanity told her it must be negative. ''Can I get up?''

''Agents, stay alert. There may be another shooter or that one may come back,'' Jack ordered. While Klaggath kept his team facing out, Jack helped Kris up, then Penny and Tom. ''Let's get to the elevator,'' he said tersely.

Kris found that her knees were more wobbly than she wanted to admit. One arm around Tom, the other around Penny, she made best speed for the exit. Once in the slide car, she collapsed into the couch, then pulled Penny and Tom down beside her. Both had developed a fine case of the shakes. Kris took the moment to pull three-millimeter darts from the back of Tommy's dinner jacket. ''Hardly even tore the fabric,'' she said, trying to laugh but managing only a hoarse echo of one.

''Uniform was guaranteed,'' Penny whispered.

''Remind me to write a thank-you to the manufacturer,'' Tommy said, his usual smile almost back on his face. Then he turned a fine shade of green.

About that time, Kris realized this gorgeous gown that would make Mother green with envy didn't have a stitch of body armor in it. Suddenly Kris's stomach demanded a quit clause on its contents. She swallowed twice, using iron will to keep herself from marring this beautiful work of art Abby had dressed her in.

The ride down seemed longer than the ride up.