Jack reappeared to escort them downstairs. Normally light on his feet, he seemed a bit heavy. He'd probably visited the house armory and was packing enough to demolish a small army. ''Abby, how did you get your little friend through security?'' he asked. ''We thought we had Nuu House as tight as a brick.''
''Santa Maria has a flourishing business in ceramic air rifles, guns, and similar protective devices,'' Abby said without looking back. ''Most shoot a metal dart. However, for a bit more, you can buy very effective ceramic ammunition.''
''Thought so. Kris, you might want to put this in your pocket.'' Jack handed her a small automatic, either the same or a twin of the one Abby had produced. Kris held it up to examine.
''That's the safety,'' Abby pointed out. ''Well protected so you won't accidentally knock it off. I have a spare holster.''
''Where were you carrying yours?'' Jack asked.
''No man's business,'' Abby shot back and produced a new copy of the weapon Jack had confiscated. While the two glared at each other, Kris slipped the weapon in her pocket; Abby would show her a better hiding place later.
They got to the elevator seventy-five minutes before the Turantic Pride was due to lock up. Seemed like plenty of time to spare… until Kris spotted two men in brown raincoats hustling toward her. ''Your people?'' she asked Jack.
''My boss's boss,'' Jack answered, ''and Grant, his boss.''
Way too much officialdom for this to be good. Kris kept her pace up and course steady for the boarding gate. Behind her, the luggage's electric motors complained.
''Ma'am. Ma'am,'' came breathless from behind Kris. At the gate, she paused to let them catch up while Abby took the trunks through. There seemed to be more trunks behind the maid than when they left Nuu House, but Kris was too busy to do a recount.
''Princess Kristine, you can't do this,'' the more out-of-breath Senior Agent Grant insisted.
Kris glanced around the elevator station wide-eyed. ''It looks like I am. Why, yes, I think I am. Abby, any problems?''
''None at all.''
''Yes there is,'' the not-Grant agent insisted. ''Security, that bag needs rechecking.''
The woman behind the check station took in the agent and the badge he waved at her, glanced at the trunk, then at Kris, then smiled. ''I got the picture of its contents in storage, sir. The computer says it's safe. My eyeball says it's safe. It is safe, mister. Right, Lieutenant Longknife?''
Kris smiled at the woman who'd cleared her through security every morning for the last three months. ''You bet it is, Betty,'' and followed her trunks through security.
''Ms. Longknife, you must reconsider,'' the Senior Agent said, following Kris through the checkpoint.
Alarms went off.
More uniformed people with automatic weapons than Kris thought the terminal could hold converged on their security station. Now both agents waved credentials, but that didn't slow down the fast-approaching, heavily armed horde.
Kris flashed a smile at Betty. ''The young one's with me. He's carrying and has all the permits you could dream of.''
Betty took a close look at Jack's papers, pushed a button, and motioned him to walk slowly through the detector. She whistled as she took in her monitor. ''Man, is he carrying. Lieutenant, if I was you, I'd stay on the nice side of that one.''
''Sometimes she actually does,'' Jack said.
The other agents finished resolving their failure to announce their armed status beforehand. As the small army backpedaled toward their stations, the Senior Agent turned again to Kris. ''Ms. Longknife, you must not do this.''
Kris kept walking. ''You might consider getting to know me better before you start giving me orders,'' Kris said, twisting the conversation in a misdirection. ''You may call me Lieutenant. You may address me as Princess. I am not a ms.''
''I'm sorry,'' one said. ''Yes, Lieutenant,'' the other agreed. ''We aren't ready.'' ''We don't have a security team for you,'' they said, stumbling over each other verbally. ''We need more time!'' they both got out together.
''There isn't more time,'' Kris said, stopping at the door of the ferry to let Abby and the trunks precede her on board. Kris suppressed a frown as she again came up high in her trunk count, but the pause put Jack at her elbow as her noisy problems once more approached.
''Then we won't let Jack go without backup,'' the Senior Agent said, playing his ace.
''Fine. I'm twenty-two years old and a serving naval officer. I am of age to decline your protection. Nelly, register my declination.''
''You wouldn't dare,'' Grant gasped.
''She'd dare, Grant,'' Jack said. ''She dares a lot.''
''Because you've never built the proper relationship of authority,'' Grant snapped back.
''I suspect no one in authority has ever developed a proper relationship with me.'' Kris smiled through teeth.
''You could send along a team on the next ship, or whenever you have it together,'' Jack suggested.
''That's not a good idea,'' Grant said.
''It looks like the best available,'' Kris said. Departure was announced in thirty seconds. All people were advised to stand clear of the white line. Kris glanced down; the white line was a meter thick; she and Jack stood in the middle of it. She sidestepped to the edge of the line inside the ferry. The Junior Supervisor gently elbowed Grant to safety on the outside.
''We'll have a backup team on the next ship. With a Senior Supervisor,'' Grant shouted.
''Not anyone senior to Jack, I hope.'' Kris smiled as the doors began to close. ''Otherwise I'll have to have my personal computer register that declination of services we talked about, and then you can explain to my father, the Prime Minister, just why I don't want you around. Or maybe to King Raymond.''
''You're a brat, you know,'' Jack said through unmoving lips.
''No. I don't recall anyone telling me that… to my face.''
''And you, being naturally hard of hearing, never heard it whispered behind your back,'' Jack said, shaking his head.
''I am not hard of hearing.''
''And you're not properly belted in, Lieutenant.''
''Are you going to hound me this entire trip?''
''Only every minute.''
If it wasn't for poor Tommy out there in trouble, this had the makings of a fun trip.
Chapter 5
''Nelly, I told you to rent space, not the whole bloody galaxy.'' Kris growled, doing a quick turn around the palatial splendor the purser of the Turantic Pride had personally escorted her to. A crystal chandelier in the sitting room cast light to softly burnish the gold trim of the ceiling and finely carved wall moldings. The brocade-covered sofa and chairs looked like something out of a museum or vid.
''I did what you told me to,'' Nelly said plaintively.
''Nelly, we could park the Firebolt in here and have room to spare,'' Kris said, checking out the doors that opened onto the sitting room. There was a study, with three walls lined with paper books; the fourth was a wall-wide screen. That screen was at least smaller than the one the Purser showed Jack how to operate in the living room. Each of the three bedrooms had a similar entertainment wall.
NELLY, COULDN'T YOU HAVE GOTTEN US SOMETHING SMALLER? Kris thought, taking the argument with her personal computer private.
NO, MA'AM. THE SHIP IS ALMOST FULL. I COULDN'T GET THREE ROOMS TOGETHER, SO I RENTED THE IMPERIAL SUITE.
''Imperial Suite! I'm a Princess, not an empire.''
''Empress, I think you mean,'' Abby corrected. ''Empire is the political structure. Emperor and Empress are the titles of the rulers, as defined by gender in those days.''
''Now you're an expert on forms of government?'' Jack drawled from where he was examining the door, having shown the Purser out. ''And it is the Imperial Suite. Says so here.''