Sandfire broke from her gaze with a diffident wave at their surroundings. ''Let me introduce you to what some are calling my Pleasure Dome.'' Sandfire stepped forward, offering Kris his elbow. With a slight bow to Kris, Tom stepped back to join Penny and Jack. The two entourages re-formed in half circles around their primaries, Kris with her security detail to her right, Sandfire with his herd of lovelies to his left.
Now Kris let her eyes wander up to the star-studded wall and marveled. ''It certainly is a lovely dome.''
''Yes, but as in so much of life, it depends on what you fill it with. I was so glad that you were in town, and, shall we say, caught between flights. But I do not restrict the pleasures of this place to the likes of us,'' Sandfire said, leading Kris in a circle of the platform. ''What kind of worlds would the Rim become if such a view as this was reserved for only the elite?''
Sandfire did not pause long enough in his monologue for Kris to mention the people of Katyville. ''We have restaurants with cuisine drawn from every corner of human space.'' The middle staircase sent people into a market setting filled with sidewalk cafes, pushcart merchants, and small alcoves. The right stairs led down to a dancing fountain with its own merchants and eateries. ''The water is not just for show. There is a hippodrome for all kinds of water sports and diversions,'' he said, pointing above their heads. ''We have the best in sound control technology so people enjoying one part here do not trouble those around them.''
At the foot of the left staircase was a garden, full of flowerbeds, hedges, and small tables. In the distance above Kris, scores of couples swirled to what must have been an ancient waltz, but she heard nothing.
Behind Kris, a car opened to squeals of delight. Children, ranging in ages from four to maybe twelve, hurried from the lift under the watchful eyes of parents or primly dressed nannies. They raced down the first staircase, oblivious to calls of ''No running,'' ''Hold on to the rail,'' and ''Hold your sister's hand,'' that trailed behind them.
Sandfire smiled at the children. The smile was twisted, like a snake might give a bird before it snapped it up. ''The Rim worlds are young and growing. How could we have a fun place for people without a place for their children as well?''
''Seems a bit past their bedtime,'' Kris said with a shiver.
''But people work on very many schedules. Our population is growing so fast, many of the schools are on two and three shifts. It works out well for parents who are on swing or night shift to have their children on a similar schedule. I suspect our Youth Fun Park is busy twenty-four hours a day. It's quite a scene. If you stay long, do drop by and enjoy it.''
''I'll keep that in mind,'' Kris said, her back suddenly crawling. So this is how the bird feels.
''I believe we are late for the ball.'' Sandfire smiled.
''Then let me return to Tom, and I will return you to your lady,'' Kris said, intentionally using the singular.
Sandfire handed Kris off to Tom without a missed step. ''Do I know you, young man?'' he asked the man he'd kidnapped.
''I don't think we've been formally introduced,'' Tom said, not missing a beat… or choking on the words. ''I'm Lieutenant Tom Lien, Wardhaven Navy.'' He did not offer his hand.
''I'm Calvin Sandfire, entrepreneur of some success. If you ever need a job, look me up.''
''I doubt I'll ever have such a need,'' Tom said, taking Kris's arm and leading her toward the broad staircase that would take them to the garden of dancing couples.
''Oh, I almost forgot,'' Sandfire said after them. ''We've had an infestation of nanos of undetermined ability and origin. Our security nanos are, of course, doing their best to control them, but you might want to avoid saying anything you don't want to see splashed over some newsie tomorrow. You know how they are.''
''Thank you,'' Kris said with well-oiled grace. ''We've had the same problem in my suite. I'm told by my security people,'' she said with a shallow bow in Jack's direction, ''that they've had to destroy a major plague of the little beasties. I can only assume there is no limit to what some news channels will do to get a few embarrassing pictures of a Princess?''
''Disgusting behavior,'' Sandfire agreed as he and his women headed away from the ball. ''The price we pay for democracy.''
''Hating that man is easy,'' Tom said as he led Kris down the thickly carpeted marble staircase.
''No talk of classified items,'' Kris said through her smile.
''Well, he has to know I hate his guts,'' Tom answered without disturbing his smile.
''Tom has a point,'' Jack said from behind them.
''Yes, he does, but let's keep it cool and light tonight,'' Kris said. At the foot of the stairs stood a man in knee britches and a cloth-of-gold waistcoat. He held a richly carved wood staff topped by a silver ball. As Kris reached the last step, he pounded his staff on the floor for attention.
''May I present Her Royal Highness, Princess Kristine of Wardhaven, and her escort.''
''Show time, crew. Let's make sure the paying customers get their money's worth,'' Kris ordered glibly.
The next moment, Kris was drowning in society. She used her best survival skills to keep a smile on her face and her hand attached to her arm. That, as usual, proved to be more difficult than it should have, some men viewing any handshake weaker than a bear claw as somehow beneath their masculinity.
Then there were those who felt familiar enough to kiss, peck, or slobber all over her cheek. NELLY, NOTE TO ABBY: FIND A FACE CREAM THAT'S SLIGHTLY BITTER. MAYBE DERIVED FROM POISON IVY.
IF YOU SAY SO, KRIS.
I SAY SO.
One of her socially empowered assailants let drop that they had been waiting for her arrival since she boarded her elevator. ''What delayed you?''
Kris dodged the cross-examination with a smile and a turn to face another open mouth. That brought her into the inane conversations. ''Are you enjoying your visit?'' ''Have you had a chance to visit our hunting reserves on North Continent?'' ''You really must take in our beaches along South Coast. Some of them don't even require bathing suits,'' came with either a leer or titter not always depending on the sex of the speaker. Kris managed safe replies to all, danced with several young men who seemed reasonably likely to stay off her feet. She guessed wrong a few times. What was missing from the bubble around her was any mention of politics or the quarantine. Kris breasted the flow of talk, feeling much like a salmon swimming upstream. Her one prayer was that if she ever found relief, spawning would not be required.
Quite suddenly, when she doubted there was another ''Hello,'' ''So glad to see you,'' or ''What a lovely evening'' in her, she did stumble into a quiet pool. As the lull descended, Kris found herself in the company of a single couple. They were, thanks to some gracious god, either at a loss for words or of that rare human subspecies that faced silence without fear.
Kris allowed her smile to wilt. ''I never thought this Princess thing could be such hard work,'' she half laughed to the thin, balding man in a white dinner jacket.
The woman beside him, blond and in a short blue party dress, chuckled along with her. ''I doubt my mother would agree it held a candle to when she soldiered alongside your Grampa Trouble.''
''When did she know Grampa?'' Kris's eyes lit up. Here was a real conversation.
''She was a Private, drafted during the Unity War.''
''Ouch,'' Kris said. ''I've been told I was lucky he lived long enough to have kids. Sounds like we share the same luck.''
''That was what her mother often told her,'' the man said, giving his wife the kind of smile a man does when he knows just how lucky he is.