The floor just lay there, saying nothing.
Kris shook her head after a moment. ''Thank you for your sage advice. Okay, lets do this by the numbers. Nelly, Beni, Captain DeVar, what do we know about yesterday's auto-gun?''
The two flesh-and-blood types eyed each other. Even Nelly stayed quiet, leaving Kris with a mental image of her pet computer joining the very human ritual.
''Nelly, what do we know?'' Kris snapped.
''The auto-gun is a standard make readily available on this planet,'' the computer started slowly.
Doc snorted. ''So much for our vaunted gun-control laws.''
''Actually,'' Nelly answered, ''estates with security systems often enforce their perimeters with auto-guns like these. Usually monitored by the security agents.''
''Was this one under human monitoring?'' Kris asked.
''There was no net connection in the wreckage,'' Beni put in. ''I would have caught the gun earlier if it was sending on a net. It was jury-rigged with a sound and movement-control system.''
''Any identifiers on the gun? Unique aspects of the chips?'' Kris shot back.
''Serial number on the gun was filed off, if it ever was there,'' Captain DeVar put in. ''The fire-control system had a incendiary device that burned the system when we tried to take it apart. Not a lot left,'' he finished with a scowl.
Kris let that bounce around her brain for a long moment. ''First time out, someone managed to jam Nelly's network. This time out, they've put together dual-use parts to make a unique—for this planet—targeting system. Anyone see a pattern?''
''Electronics,'' Beni said, sitting up from his eternal slouch. ''Whoever is after you has one large pot full of electronics capability.''
''And here on Eden where most of the computer stuff is about the most complicated in human space,'' Penny added.
''Nelly, start a search on new computer chips and software companies in town.''
''I will try, Kris, but it will not be easy.''
''Why?''
''Kris, advertising seems to be mostly by word of mouth or through select industry-type journals. I don't know which ones to subscribe to. The records and reports of the Federal Bureau of Financial Statistics are not a publicly available database. Even using the access you have as a Nuu Enterprises stockholder, what I get back is little more than the addresses of home offices and the dividends they paid out last year.''
''And with that they keep the business's around here legal?'' Kris muttered.
''I'm not sure they really do,'' Penny said. ''Until a scandal gets huge, it doesn't even make the news.''
''Father tries to keep the government from getting too much in business's face. If he gets too heavy into regulations, Grampa Al comes screaming into his office. But you have to keep the playing field level. Who's doing that?'' Kris eyed Doc. ''How long have you been here?''
''Twelve, thirteen years, I think. My third wife definitely wanted me gone and she had pull with the right staff. Or was it me that wanted to be as far away from her as possible?'' He looked up, those gray eyes sparkling. ''I don't remember.''
''You do remember the difference between the skull and the pelvis bones, don't you?'' Captain DeVar asked.
''Usually, young man, but for you I can make an exception.''
''Doc, who really runs this embassy?'' Kris shot into that round of chuckles.
''I was wondering when you'd ask,'' Doc said, eyeing DeVar.
''It's pretty obvious the ambassador is a figurehead,'' Kris said. ''So, who does the heavy lifting. Who's reporting to Admiral Crossenshield?''
That brought a sigh from Doc and a raised eyebrow from the Marine captain.
''We've gone though nine or ten political affairs officers in the time I've been here, Your Highness,'' Doc said slowly. ''They keep being declared persona non grata for a whole raft of reasons, usually involving young women or men. More correctly, girls and boys.''
''That's disgusting,'' Kris snapped, then thought. ''All of them?''
''Rather routinely,'' Doc said with a shrug.
''Couldn't Eden come up with a new excuse?'' Penny asked. ''Isn't it obvious when you rerun the same play year after year?''
The only answer Doc gave was another shrug.
''So you get to know too much about Eden and you get shipped out of here with a smear on your name,'' Kris said.
''Last one left about a month ago,'' DeVar added.
''About the time I got orders,'' Kris said with a sigh that would have made any of Tommy's Irish grandmum's proud.
''Okay, if I want to stay alive, I've got to get to the bottom of this planet. While avoiding compromising involvement with little boys and girls.''
''Don't bet on that being possible, Your Highness,'' Doc said. ''They've shipped our people off on some pretty flimsy excuses.''
''But this time they're dealing with a princess. And a Longknife. Enough said?'' Kris growled.
''That does make this round interesting,'' Jack said through a painful-looking grin.
''Captain, what do you bring to the table?'' Kris asked.
''I command the largest Embassy Marine detachment we've deployed. A reinforced rifle company, say a hundred and twenty-five trigger pullers. Supporting them are another fifty technical-and heavy-weapons specialists. We drill monthly on evacuating the embassy and getting the entire staff up the beanstalk for transport on the first available U.S. merchant or warship.'' The captain rattled off the words of his mission and capability like he said them every night before bed. And being a Marine officer, he just might.
''Special operations capable?'' Penny asked.
''Of course, Lieutenant. But we don't advertise.''
''Nelly, have you finished your analysis of the underground media? Any pattern? Any reporters better at hitting the mark?''
''Yes Kris, but I am not finding much gold in this gravel.''
''Good metaphor, Nelly,'' Penny said. ''But why no gold?''
''Some reporters are better at getting the hot stories, but they get hired away to main media. And even the best are wrong half the time. This place is an enigma even to its residents.''
''And the opposition party hasn't bothered to drop by and say hi to me,'' Kris said with a frown.
''I think all the folks with the power kind of like things the way they are,'' Doc said.
''So why is someone trying to bump me off?'' Kris asked.
The room was quiet for a long time on that one. Finally Jack said the obvious. ''Vicky Peterwald?''
Kris nodded, but wasn't about to swallow it whole. ''Is this just the usual Peterwald thing? Does Eden have nothing to do with it? Come on crew. Where there's smoke, there's usually fire, and where there's a cover-up, there's usually something being covered? I don't buy that it's just me. There's something being hidden and they're spending a lot to hide it. And they ship off planet anyone who gets too close to it.''
Kris eyed those around the table. She had their interest. ''I want to know what it is. Now, before it kills me.''
''The best source we have,'' Abby said softly, ''may well be the two kids I made friends with.''
Kris shook her head. ''I am not involving kids. They get too close to one of those damn Longknifes, they could get dead.''
''I believe Sherlock Holmes did quite well with the Baker Street Irregulars,'' Doc put in.
''Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character,'' Kris shot back. ''These kids are real people and they could get real dead. No, Doc, Abby, and you, too, Jack. We do this with grown-ups. No kids. Doc, you've been here the longest. You know many locals?''
''Not many. The embassy stays pretty closed in. And as you know, those that concentrate outward seem to get shipped home rather quickly.''
Captain DeVar raised an eyebrow at Doc.
''Okay, I do have a lady friend, but no, no way am I getting her involved with a Longknife. You hear me?''
They listened to the silence of that for a long moment.
Abby sat bolt upright. ''Kris, I've got to take a call.''