''And besides, who says I'm supposed to worry about your stomach ulcer? As I recall, my great-grandpappy didn't give yours much warning before he walked off with that bomb for President Urm. You big people got to realize that you aren't the only ones making plans. Us little folks make plans, too. And sometimes we are going to surprise you.''
''You came up with one hell of a learning experience.''
''Well, you are one of those Longknifes. Anything gentler, and it would have gone right by you.''
Kris chose not to argue that point as Sandy dug in her desk drawer. ''I have something here for you.'' She handed Kris a paper form. It was a reference for an application to the Academy. ''I told you my daughter's applying this year.''
Kris nodded.
''I also told you that I didn't want her getting another reference from Ray. Two generations was enough. It was time for a change.''
Again Kris nodded.
''I would be honored if you would provide my daughter with a reference. A new generation deserves a new generation.''
Kris could think of several replies. She didn't know the girl, but then neither did Grampa Ray. Grampa Ray was a king. Kris was just a Lieutenant. But Santiago knew that. And knowing it, she wanted Kris to sponsor her daughter. Kris replayed that last sentence and wasn't sure which ''new generation'' deserved who. ''I'd be honored, Captain.''
The last jump brought news from Wardhaven. Kris's plea for help from Olympia had brought it forth in legion measure. Ester Saddik hit the talk shows the night her ship docked. For those who liked their explanations full and complete, Ester, Kris's first Olympia employee, gave them in her calm, pleasant voice, backed up by the warehouse foreman, that nice Quaker, Jeb Salinski.
For those who preferred their input loud and contentious, Ester turned loose rancher Brandon Anderson and farmer Jason McDowell. Those two still had enough anger in them to scorch carbon steel. What they did to Lieutenant Pearson on the one show where she showed up to explain that her procedures for documenting the release of food aid were simple and easily applied left the woman and her rules hanging in shreds. And 3/c Spens, Kris's stand-in accountant, had managed to arrange his discharge on Olympia… there was a local girl involved. He did an amazing job of holding people's interest as he walked them through his simple accounting system for tracking aid, and Kris's just-released tax return for last year.
The opposition was on the ropes when suddenly it was found that the charges were technically in error, and therefore, based on that technicality, had to be dismissed.
''Does that technically mean I no longer work for a criminal?'' Abby asked.
''I guess so. That make you feel better?''
Abby seemed blasé. But Kris arrived at High Wardhaven feeling pretty upbeat. As she saluted and led her small detachment across the gangplank of the Halsey, she asked Nelly to check on where her family was. Quickly, her computer ran down most everyone's present location, finishing with ''…and your mother is at Madame Bovaine's Bridal Boutique.''
''What's she doing there?''
''Kris, Penny, do you mind if I go check on the 109?'' Tom asked. Kris waved him away. Penny looked like she'd rather follow him, but she waited for Nelly's answer, dread pouring off her like disease off a swamp.
''She appears to be with Penny's mother.''
''Jack, Abby, you're with me. Somehow we have to save Penny from my mother.''
''Are we allowed to use deadly force?'' Abby asked.
Jack shook his head dolefully.
Kris rode the beanstalk down, her gut in more of an uproar than it had ever been when she was going out to rescue Tom or recon Turantic. It hadn't been this bad riding down to tackle the terrorists on Hikila when she had no idea how she'd cross the last one hundred meters under deadly fire.
No. This involved Mother. Death was not an option.
They flagged a taxi. The driver took one look at them and looked like he'd rather take any other fare, but he drove them to Madame Bovaine's Bridal Boutique. ''Wait here,'' Kris ordered. ''We won't be long.''
''I hope,'' Penny whispered.
Kris led her team in a quick march through the front doors. They advanced five paces into the store and froze.
Mother was looking at a wedding gown.
It was white, so it had to be a wedding gown. It had no veil, but a large floppy hat half covered the model's face, as well she should want it. There was a front to the gown. And a back. No sides. The model was wearing white stockings and a white garter belt. No bra. No panties. Whatever borrowed or blue she had was right out there for all to see.
''Mother, Penny is not wearing something like that.''
''Oh, hello, Kristine darling, I was wondering when you might be back. But I was just telling Pamela here that it is all the rage in Paris this year.''
''Paula,'' Penny's mother corrected.
Brides on Nui Nui probably wore less and looked more modest. ''Penny is not wearing that. Pick a dress, Penny,'' Kris said, waving at a wide collection of traditional gowns.
''But they're all lace and frills. She'll look more like the cake than the bride.''
''I'll tell Lotty to go easy on the icing,'' Kris snarled.
Penny and her mother edged their way into the lee of this verbal hurricane behind several mannequins of traditional gowns.
''Well, if you're going to insist on the bride dressing down into something plebeian, I can at least put the bridesmaids into something more appropriate to the moment. After all, this wedding is in my garden.''
''It is Penny's wedding. They're my friends.''
''It is my garden. Your father is running for his life.''
After several repeats, which repetitions made sound only more childish, Kris gave in with a sigh she'd been only too well practiced in since oh, about thirteen. ''Okay, Mother, bridesmaids' dresses are supposed to look horrible. So what's your entrance into this year's competition? It can't be any worse than the five I've already got in my closet.''
Kris was wrong.
The dress the modiste presented with such a wide smile was built very much like a daisy. Now all Kris needed was someone to think of as she plucked each petal, He loves me, he loves me not. Course, when she plucked the last one, it looked like she'd be wearing less than she had to Dance up the Moon.
''Mo-ther.''
''Daughter, you said I choose the dress. I'm choosing.''
And a deal in the Longknife household took a revolution to break. The back of the dress started in the front with spaghetti straps that flared into a gossamer train, hopefully before the cheeks of Kris's rear end were showing. I was more modestly dressed as a streetwalker on Turantic! And my own mother is doing this to me. Heather's red hair and milk-white complexion would be breathtaking against the yellow of the dress. And Babs would leak out of it in all the right places. Then there would be beanpole Kris falling out of it in all the wrong places.
Any chance I could talk Penny and Tom into believing that a Wardhaven princess could marry them by just putting their hands in each others'?
Or maybe if I got my ship back. A ship Captain can marry couples. Could a very small ship's Captain?
No, Penny and her mother had spotted a wedding gown and were looking at it with happy eyes. Kris reached for her credit card. Penny had stood with her through hell and more. And Tom even more than that. They were her best friends and deserved the wedding they wanted. And who remembered what bridesmaids wore?
Well, the society page. And Mother would have Adorable Dora covering this wedding. Kris sighed. She was a Longknife, and Longknifes did what had to be done.
Even when it didn't involve killing someone.