''If you are able to make an appearance,'' the ambassador went on, ''at the ball tonight, I wonder if I might arrange further invitations. Sandfire mentioned there was no telling how long this quarantine might last. This weekend is the annual yacht regatta, and I understand you quite enjoy a good sail.''
Tommy's skin took on a greenish tinge. Kris loved a good sail. Still, she should stay focused. ''Mr. Ambassador, this is not a formal visit—'' she started.
''I understand, Your Highness,'' the ambassador cut her off, then paused, shocked at his effrontery, but he went on. ''You must understand, Princess Kristine, there is an election scheduled in the very near future. Many people here have fond memories of their past relationship with Wardhaven. Others seem intent on damaging that relationship, if not destroying it. I would hate to see my adopted planet in, ah, difficulty with my home. You must understand the problem we face here.''
''I've been learning a lot very rapidly,'' Kris said dryly.
''There is little that we can do officially, now that we are foreigners,'' the Ambassador went quickly on. ''However, I have never underestimated the power of social contacts. Many of my friends have expressed interest in you personally, both as a Longknife and as a Princess. What you can do…?'' he finished with an expressive shrug.
Part of Kris wanted to protest that Lieutenant JG Longknife had not even been mentioned. She snapped a lid on that and considered the offer on its merits. Someone had made it impossible for her to get out of here. She could sit on her butt, fuming, or she could get out and do something, probably something that Mr. Sandfire had not planned on. Was this old coot trying to squander her time? She'd always considered her social life a waste. Just now, it was all she had. Maybe it was time to rethink herself. ''Why don't you look into other invitations while I consider matters?''
''I would be glad to.''
''By the way, I've tried to get a message off planet, to see if Nuu Enterprises could send a ship for me. That message is kind of having a slow go of it.''
''Yes, I understand that the new systems on High Turantic are suffering ‘teething problems,' I believe they're called.''
''Well, could you try to move my message up on the priority list? Nuu Pharmaceuticals makes one of the vaccines against Ebola. That ship could bring a load of it when it comes for me.''
''Very good thinking, Your Highness. Yes, I will personally contact the Minister of Communications to see what can be done.''
The Ambassador rang off, and bedlam broke out. ''You are not going to any ball,'' Jack snapped. ''They could pick you off from a hundred different directions.'' ''Sandfire.'' Tommy looked paler. ''He's the bastard that gave me the song and dance I fell for. Kris, you can't do what he wants.'' ''Kristine Longknife, you can't be that dumb.'' was Penny's contribution. ''You pulled off something pretty wild to stop that battle at Paris, but even you can't snap your fingers and beat whatever is coming down here.''
''I suggest this gown tonight,'' Abby said, holding up a bright red arrangement that would draw every eye within a thousand meters, even if it was just Kris wearing it.
Kris lowered her voice but pitched it to carry over the rabble. ''Let's sit down, calm down, and get some organization into our thinking.''
The others did, although Abby retreated to Kris's room to return the gown. With everyone settled in, Kris began what had to be one of the strangest staff meetings in history. ''Penny, from what graveyard did my father dig up that Ambassador?''
''He's a holdover,'' she started quickly. ''Ambassador Middenmite came to Turantic forty years ago. You might not know it, but Turantic's vintners produce a particularly prized wine. Middy was able to corner the market on it for most of the off-planet sales. When we needed help setting up a business mission here, he knew everyone worth knowing.'' She shrugged. ''He wanted to retire from business a few years back when we needed a head of trade missions. He seemed perfect for the job. He helped a lot setting up the military equipment exchanges of the last decade, or so my former boss told me.''
''So, he's great window dressing, but not quite the sharp edge we need these days.'' Penny nodded. ''Who's the real boss?''
Penny flinched away from Kris's gaze. ''Mr. Howling handles the administrative functions.''
''So,'' Kris repeated, ''who is in charge of the real work?''
''Lieutenant Junior Grade, you are not cleared for that.''
''And what about Princess Longknife?''
Penny frowned, glanced at the ceiling, then shrugged. ''That royal stuff is just window dressing as far as the Navy is concerned. It doesn't put you in my chain of command.''
''Reasonable answer,'' Jack cut in with a sigh. ''So, if our target here insists on going off to the ball tonight, what can you and your unnamed boss do to help me keep her from turning into a potted pumpkin before midnight?''
''Actually, I can help you there without involving my boss.'' Penny smiled brightly, relieved to be out of that morass. ''I told you I had contacts with the local police. I can get you a full detail up here within three hours.''
''And who will vouch that they're clean?'' Jack said.
''I will. They're professional cops. They do good cop work and don't give a damn about the political hand-waving going on.''
''Good enough for me,'' Kris said. Jack turned on her, but she cut him off. ''If we wait until we have full fields on all of them to your satisfaction, I'll be well into my third year here with just you at my arm. I got us into this mess, Jack. I take responsibility for this part of the mess.''
''Okay, for the ball tonight, I guess I can go along with that. But you have to keep to a minimum-risk schedule.''
''No, Jack, I'm going along with the Ambassador.''
''You're kidding. You hate that social stuff.''
''I hate social stuff with the usual suspects talking about the same things they've talked about since I was born,'' Kris cut Jack off. ''But how else do I get out and meet people here? How else do I figure out what's going on? Besides, if everyone knows I hate the social stuff, so does Sandfire. If this is the last thing he'd expect me to do, it's the first thing I ought to do.''
''And it does have the advantage,'' Penny said, ''of getting you out among people who are very interested in Wardhaven and what this King thing might mean for them if they vote for the Liberal Party and join United Sentients.''
''Kris, you have another call coming in,'' Nelly announced.
Kris stepped away from the table, tightened the robe around her, and stood in front of the living room screen. ''Put me on.''
A small portion of the screen changed to show a man in a gray three-piece business suit. He had either grown pudgy in early middle age… or was wearing several layers of body armor. His face was thin, relaxed, an open smile… that did not reach to his eyes. ''Hello, Princess Kristine. I am Calvin Sandfire, the owner of the Top of Turantic. I understand the quarantine has caught you here, and you're open to an invitation to tonight's inaugural ball.''
And just how and why do you know that? Kris wondered but chose to keep things social. Channel Mother, Kris ordered herself. ''And I am so glad that I can provide you a royal presence for your first ball. Wardhaven and Turantic have so much in common,'' she gushed. The flash flood of syrupy verbiage surged back and forth for the required moments. He stayed air head social, not touching again on her stranded status. The only fact exchanged was the starting time for the ball.
''I'll drop by your suite at the Hilton to fetch you. You will require an escort, won't you? I understand your visit here was somewhat hastily planned.''
Not nearly as hasty as you wish, Kris thought, even as she made sure sardonic did not slip into her face camouflage. ''I don't think that will be required. I do believe there are several men at the embassy dueling for the privilege of providing me an arm to lean on.''