The present situation didn't present impossible odds. They were ridiculous. Someone had played Pandori for the tyro he was; Wardhaven was in deep trouble. Way too deep.
There was nothing else to do.
''Isn't that what Longknifes do? Something, when there's nothing else to do,'' she muttered to herself. As usual, the problem was finding that something.
''You say something?'' Abby said.
Kris looked down at herself; she was almost dressed. She turned to Abby. The woman had put the Order of the Wounded Lion on her left shirt pocket. Normally, that was where her command badge would have gone. Then again, her command badge was gone, so why not put her mutineer's badge there today?
Good omen?
Her maid held the shirt while Kris put her arms in its sleeves, then buttoned it on. ''Abby, things are going to get crazy down here. Would you look after Harvey and Lotty? Rose and Honovi? Father, and yes, Mother if you can?''
Abby nodded with a tight smile.
Kris turned to glance in the mirror. It showed the usual Kris: too tall, nose too long, a young woman with no curves to speak of. It also showed a jaw set. Mouth a tight line. Eyes going narrow. Was this a Longknife face? Was this what Grampa Ray looked like as he ordered Iteeche fleets exterminated? She paced the distance to the door. Do I have the Longknife answers? she wondered as she opened it.
Outside stood Tom in the dress whites he'd worn for his wedding. Beside him, Penny had somehow traded her fully layered bridal gown and long veil for the much less formal but just as pale undress whites.
They saluted.
''What are your orders, Your Highness?'' Tom asked. There were no questions in their eyes. No doubts. Kris searched the two people she'd led through hell and fire. She found only expectation. Damnably confident expectation.
They expected her to reach into some Longknife magic hat and come up with the right answer once again. The right orders that would lead them through fire and hell… again … and safe out… again.
Kris swallowed the lump rising in her throat and returned their salute. ''Princess Kristine sends her compliments to the Commodore and asks him at his convenience to hold a council of his boat commanders.''
Tom went from saluting Kris with one hand to talking to his other. But only for a moment. ''The Commodore sends his compliments and says he will convene a council of his junior commanders in the wardroom of the Cushing at fifteen hundred hours.''
Kris glanced at her watch. ''An hour and a half. That ought to be enough time to get up the beanstalk, onto a military base, and aboard a ship I'm not supposed to go near.''
''Doesn't sound impossible for a Longknife,'' Jack said, ambling down the hall, hands in his pants pockets. ''I figured you might find a Secret Service agent useful, even if he is on terminal leave, so I hung around after the wedding busted up. Penny, I must say, you've set a new standard for wedding receptions.''
''I suspect it will be talked about for years. Should make Kris's mom happy.''
''So, you three need a ride to the elevator terminal? Hope you don't mind, all I got is a rented beater.'' Jack grinned.
The beanstalk station was a madhouse, but all the traffic was headed down and out. Kris and her three brave souls had the in and up side almost to themselves. Tommy and Penny had no trouble going through the turnstile using their ID cards for both authorization and payment.
Kris pulled out her Nuu Enterprises stockholder ID.
''It ain't gonna work,'' the elderly attendant told Kris. ''I hear they dropped the charges against you, but when I checked the ‘no admit' printout this morning, your name was still on it.''
''Hi, Mary,'' Kris said to the familiar face who'd checked her through the gate as often as not for many of the last ten years. ''Joey out of trouble now that I'm back from Hikila?''
''The new management didn't wait for you to come back. They gave him a week suspension without pay the day after he let you through. I told him to talk to the union, but he said he needed a vacation. He spent the whole week up on the North Coast. Sent us pictures every day. Every day with a different pretty girl wearing practically nothing. I swear he was renting them.''
''He does have a nice smile,'' Kris noted.
''And now you need to get up the beanstalk. I hear we got some noisy company coming.''
Kris thought for a second, then decided to lie. ''Oh? I hadn't heard.''
''And my husband's a great lover. Tell you what I'm gonna do. Why don't you cuddle up close to that nice young man behind you and let him pay his way through, and if you happen to slip through at the same time…'' She shrugged.
''The security cameras will spot it.''
''Hell, young lady, maybe I could use a vacation up on the North Coast. Has to be some nearly naked boys I can rent. And it might be safer than being around here. Certainly will be if you don't get up there and do whatever it is you're up to.''
Jack got up close behind Kris. He ran his ID through the charge slip. There were advantages to being taller than the average … and not much more than a stick figure. Kris slipped through in step with her agent. They made it to the ferry just as it was locking down.
Getting aboard the Naval station turned out to be even less of a problem. Pandori had sent most of the Marines to Boynton. Newly hired guards at the gate were more concerned with listening to the news and talking about when they'd get off than checking IDs. Kris waved her ID at the scanner. It didn't go beep, but she kept on walking.
They reached the Cushing fifteen minutes before the Commodore's staff meeting. Tom offered Kris an update on the 109.
''She's not in very good shape,'' Tom said as they boarded. ''The motor hasn't been run for weeks. That's not good for small matter-antimatter gear. They were ordered to rip out the lasers, but with the fleet gone, they kept getting orders to provide work parties on the base. Truth is, Tran was glad to farm the crew out to details. It kept them from tearing up the boat. I'm not sure, but I think it's been that way with all the other skippers. Hoping that if they weren't sold before the election, your da would win, and we'd be back in business.''
In the dim light and borrowed station air, the cold silence of the boat was like a tomb. Kris had come aboard hoping for something to cheer her up, give her hope that there was a way out of this mess that older heads had gotten them into. The feel of her boat, a dead carcass on the beach, did nothing to help.
It was better to face the Commodore.
Kris crossed the brow onto the Cushing's quarterdeck with Tom at her side. The MCI system announced, ''PF-109 arriving,'' which brought a smile to her face. ''Princess Kristine arriving,'' was a sharp reminder that Tom was still officially PF-109, not her.
She saluted the flag painted on the bulkhead, then saluted the JG standing Junior Officer of the Deck, who returned her salute. Tom and Penny did the same. Jack stood by like a good civilian, looking a bit nonplussed at the solemn Navy ritual.
''The Commodore is waiting for you in the wardroom,'' the JOOD said and turned to lead them aft. He cast Jack a questioning look over his shoulder as the Secret Service agent, alumni-in-waiting, made to follow.
''I'm with her.''
''Humor us,'' Kris said. ''Things are a bit strange.''
''And then some,'' the JG agreed. Two armed Marines stood guard outside the wardroom. Inside, two more Marines took station beside the door. Kris hadn't seen this kind of security since she bucked Captain Thorpe on the Typhoon.
The Commodore was seated at the head of the long dining table, a white linen cloth covering it. Six PF skippers sat down the side of the table at his right hand. There was a single seat open on the left across from the door. And another at the foot. Kris nodded Tom toward the 109's seat and took her place at the foot of the table.