''It was about four hours later I tried to book a ship out of here. I'm still trying,'' Kris said.
''And they don't have the net fixed,'' he said, shaking his head. ''My old man would have kittens and heads if that happened on Greenfeld.'' Kris knew the kittens were figurative. The heads were likely to be literal, at least in Grampa Trouble's opinion.
For social purposes, Kris laughed. ''Fixing that net problem would have fixed a lot of my troubles. I wanted to order in some Ebola vaccine and get this quarantine lifted. Hey, that pharm plant of yours, it have anything good for Ebola?''
''Didn't I check that out, first thing,'' Hank said, rolling his eyes at the void above them, which included the stars and the rest of the universe. ''They tell me Ebola is a bitch, takes a unique feed product and processing. Only three or four plants do that. Hey, didn't your grampa goodie-goodie say he was going to stockpile the stuff on every planet?''
''He did,'' Kris defended Grandfather Al. ''Somebody stole our stock a bit before the outbreak.''
''Lots of interesting coincidences here,'' Hank said. ''But I must tell you, that is a dazzling dress you're wearing tonight.''
Kris beamed and did a pirouette. Nearly backless, this dress was slinky with a slit up the right side. ''Ought to be fun to dance in.''
''Certainly better than the green things you were wearing last time I saw you. Green and wet and everyone hungry. By the way, how did that stuff I donated work out?''
Kris froze her smile in place, tried to school every muscle in her body to act just so. Would Hank actually ask if he knew the answer? She swallowed to get her voice just right. ''Most of it came in very handy. We really needed those trucks.''
''And the boats?'' he asked, not a tick or quiver in his too beautifully handsome face.
''Had some problems,'' Kris said, lowering her eyes to study him through the lashes. ''There was a glitch in the smart metal. Third time you changed their design, they fell apart.''
''Good Lord, I never heard about that. I hope that didn't happen when you needed them.''
What do I do now? Tell him the truth and let the chips fall, or tell a social lie and have fun tonight? His tuxedo fit him perfectly. What more could a woman ask for in a night out than his elbow to lean on.
''I was on a raging river in a particularly narrow canyon with the water rising when I found out,'' Kris said.
''Oh Lord. That's terrible, Kris. I'm sorry.'' And for a moment, that overly refined face looked like he meant it. Then Kris could almost see something click in behind his eyes, and her father warning her, ''Never say anything we can be sued for.''
''That sounds more exciting than what I'm doing,'' he said in a well-schooled voice. A smile came out that didn't quite reach his eyes. ''Looks like you're still having all the fun.''
He reached for the sash of the Wounded Lion and slowly ran it through his fingers. Was it an accident that one of his well-manicured nails also ran its way down between her breasts? ''Earth must have liked whatever you did at that get-together in the Paris system,'' he said as Kris failed to suppress a shiver.
Maybe someday she'd tell him the truth, but not now, not in front of everyone. ''You know how it is, being a kid from the right family. Some old fools decide to put a crown on my great-grandfather's head, and a guy in the housewares department back on Earth sends a fancy for the new Princess's wardrobe.''
''Yes. Dad is rather proud our money dates back to when the Pope still had an Army. I imagine if I looked through the back of my closet, I might find a few doodads as well,'' he said, but he no longer eyed Kris as a dance partner. No, it was more like the way you studied a cobra.
What must I look like to him?
''Pardon me,'' Jack said beside her. ''We are blocking the car exits, and I think Mr. Sandfire is casting glances this way like he's looking for Henry but doesn't want to admit it.''
Sure enough, Kris's main candidate for nemesis on this planet and a bevy of eye candy were circling in the distance, not enough to force eye contact, but not likely to be missed.
Hank started to frown but quickly suppressed it and morphed his face into a smile and a nod in Sandfire's direction. ''He'll tie me up half the night with people who just want to be able to say they shook my hand,'' he told Kris through his smile.
''I have people I need to see, too,'' Kris admitted. ''I'm surprised Ambassador Middenmite hasn't already nailed me.''
''Duty calls,'' Hank said, turning to Kris, taking her right hand, and bowing to kiss it. What his thumb was doing on the palm of her hand was enough to make any girl go weak in the knees. Buck up, Lieutenant, you've got business, remember.
''Save a few dances for me,'' Hank said, glancing up while still in midbow, still with thumb playing with her hand, her knees, and all parts in between.
''Even if I have to kill a few social climbers to keep the slots open.''
''Good. See you in an hour or so,'' he said as he turned.
''You having fun?'' Jack asked.
Kris shrugged, which in this dress set off enough shimmering to make her a hazard to navigation. ''Girl's got a right to spend a little time with a possible like soul.'' Clearly, Tommy's dance card was full of Penny.
Clearing his throat like some ancient duenna, Jack said, ''I've spotted several of your political allies. You might want to edge to the left here.''
With only a tiny helping of self-pity, Kris turned to duty. She waded through a small throng of social greetings before she and Senator Krief occupied the same quiet eddy in the flow of well-dressed and gorgeous people. The Senator cut through Kris's greetings with whispered glee.
''The President outmaneuvered himself, or at least the idiots telling him when and where to throw parties did. When I told Senator Earlic what happened to Nara, I didn't even have to hint that my daughter was set up for something and his daughter was gotten out of the way by the President's barbecue. He may be Conservative, but he's not blind, and this is only the latest in strange coincidences. You top that with the sudden call in the Congress for a vote on war with Hamilton, and you've got a lot of people wondering if we aren't being led around by our noses.''
''Think you can defeat the vote?'' Kris asked.
''It doesn't have a chance. My guess is their whip didn't do a nose count today. Bad move for them, very bad move.''
''And the pictures you got today?''
''I'm not quite sure what I have, but I talked to someone who is. He says they show enough naval-size lasers to outfit a fleet twice the size of what we have parked in the yard below us. Makes you wonder why someone is spending money on so many more guns than we need,'' she said, slowing to a thoughtful pause.
''What's the size of Hamilton's merchant fleet?'' Kris asked.
DO YOU WANT ME TO ANSWER? Nelly said.
NO.
''I don't know for sure,'' the Senator said, ''but I understand it's larger than ours. Much larger.'' Her eyebrow rose in alarm. ''A whole lot larger than ours.''
''I think my computer can answer that. Nelly, do you have Hamilton's approximate tonnage and bottoms?''
''The Hamilton Merchant Marine is just a shade less than triple Turantic's in total standard tonnage. Their ships are, on average, slightly larger than Turantic, so the number of ships are about two and a half times Turantic's number. THERE, KRIS, DID I DO IT RIGHT FOR A HUMAN, NOT PRECISE BUT IN APPROXIMATE TERMS SHE CAN USE?
PERFECT, NELLY. INCLUDE AN ''ATTA GIRL'' IN YOUR REPORT TO TRU.
ONLY ONE!
FOR NOW. NOW, QUIET.
The Senator edged herself over to a table and settled into a chair. Kris did the same, her guards closing in to keep the space hers. Kay shook her head slowly. ''Hamilton doesn't have so much as a patrol boat in orbit, not the last time I checked. Damn that communications blackout.''
''When do they say they'll have it fixed?'' Kris asked.