''But someone's always wanting to use us.'' Kris sighed.
''At least you get this Princess stuff.'' Hank flashed her an evil grin. ''Makes it easy to save you. Me, I'm just another businessman's brat.''
''Trade you,'' Kris shot back. ''You can have it, crown and all.''
''I'd want a few less diamonds,'' Hank said, glancing up at her present jewelry. ''I don't think all that glitter would look good on a man.''
''Hey, you or I make a fashion statement, everyone listens,'' Kris assured him. ''But these are on loan for tonight. Didn't want to wear a crown out in public what with all the political currents washing around.'' And I traded most of my crown for some pictures I thought might end this whole problem. Hope nobody misses that hat trick.
The door opened, and the guards set up a perimeter before letting them out. Getting organized again took time: Abby and two of the grays missed the second car, and everyone waited until they arrived on a third. ''I've seen better organized riots.'' Abby sniffed as she joined them.
''No doubt you organized them,'' Jack said, a second ahead of Kris.
Hank noticed the interplay and laughed. ''I predict tonight will be very enjoyable.''
''Have you done your usual exhaustive search of the available eateries to find the best… and probably most expensive?''
''But of course, since I'm paying.''
''Hey, I called you up for the date. I pay,'' Kris growled, but she dropped it quickly. Not all the lines it would show on her face were laugh lines.
''But I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy. I would never let a lady pay for her supper.''
''Yes, but my trust fund is bigger than your trust fund.''
''You checked with your broker lately?'' That brought a laugh to both. ''I hate being out of communications,'' Hank finished.
''I really hate it. I'm in the second week of a one-week leave. My Captain's going to keelhaul me when I get back.''
''I can't picture anyone wanting to sign your pink slip.''
''Oh, I could name several Generals and at least one Admiral that would be delighted to be quit of me.''
''That would have to be a career-ending move for them.''
''It may sound that way to you, but there are several members of my father's opposition who would dearly love to see my family in that kind of media circus.''
The restaurant was out of the way. The lighting was dim enough that Jack pulled out his low-vision glasses as he took a seat at a table with Tom and Abby between the door and the table Kris and Hank were led to by a hostess in a shimmering yellow sarong that may or may not have been translucent in good light. Hank seemed to find the view enticing.
''You plan to dance with the girl you brought or the help?'' Kris asked, keeping a smile on her face.
''I never know with you Longknifes if I'll be leaving with you or be run off the planet. Figured I better keep an eye out for fallback options.''
''Well let me get a good look at the waiter, and I may turn you loose.''
''Who would take us?'' Hank said, suddenly serious as he leaned forward so his words did not carry easily to the security details occupying tables three deep around them.
''We could buy this planet and everyone on it. You'd probably have change left over to upgrade that pet computer of yours. We could buy anyone, but could we get anyone here to have and to hold us?''
''Maybe we have to earn that,'' Kris said.
''How do we earn anything when we've inherited everything?''
''You sound like you've been giving this problem of ours,'' Kris said, knowing what she was saying could come out sounding so empty, ''a lot of thought.''
''You in counseling, too?''
''Navy frowns on its officers being emotionally unstable.''
''Just like my old man. Let's say that I may have managed to find a friend or two that he doesn't know as much about as he thinks.'' Kris eyed the twitch of Hank's hand, the blink of his eyes. Sincerity wasn't there so much as hope.
''Your father coming on strong?''
''I think he's starting to feel old. All the rejuvenation we have these days, and men still seem to have their own menopause around fifty.''
''Your grandfather's still alive.''
''And Great-grandfather probably would be if he hadn't had that accident,'' Hank said. Kris had read Grampa Al's business intelligence report on that ''accident.'' The final conclusion was fifty-fifty, a stockholder's revolt or Hank's father.
Interesting family.
But Hank didn't sound any more in love with his family than Kris was with hers. Was there any chance she could bring him into the mess she was in?
A waiter appeared at Hank's elbow. The young man was in a light blue sarong of his own. Shimmers and flesh played hide-and-seek with her eyes in the dim candlelight. Good pecs, good abs. Maybe even better than Jack's. Kris enjoyed the view while Hank ordered in a language that defied interpretation. Nelly?
IT MIGHT BE BALINESE, OR SOMETHING RELATED TO SOUTHEAST ASIA ON OLD EARTH, BUT IT ISN'T CLASSICAL. IT'S CHANGED IN SPACE.
What hadn't? Kris watched the fellow weave his way among the guards, then rose.
''You follow him, and I'll go hunting for the hostess,'' Hank said pointedly.
''I think that sign says the ladies' room is that way,'' Kris said, pointing. ''While I've spent most of the afternoon in the bathroom, my maid doesn't believe in wasting time on old-fashioned uses of the place. I promise you, I'll be much better company if I'm several liters lighter.''
''Say that five times and fast.'' Hank was his laughing self again. ''But I swear, you stay gone too long, and I'll be in the back office with the hostess.''
''I'll keep that in mind,'' Kris said as Abby attached herself to Kris's elbow.
''If I knew you were going to say bad things about me, I'd have demanded a higher wage.''
''I thought the wages of your sins were already sky high.'' Now Jack was at Kris's other elbow, and a gray fog was stumbling from their seats to get in her way. ''Fellows, you get between me and that door, and you get to clean up the mess,'' Kris threatened, and the gray opened before her like the Red Sea did for Moses.
NELLY, WE STILL HAVE DEFENSE NANOS WITH US?
WE HAVE NOT LOST A ONE FROM AMONG YOUR DIAMONDS.
RELEASE THEM AS SOON AS WE GET INSIDE THE DOOR. LET ME KNOW HOW MUCH COMPANY WE HAVE. READY
READY, Nelly answered as Abby pushed the door open. Jack stopped in the doorway, which persuaded any doubting grays that Kris deserved some privacy.
SURVEILLANCE?
TWO CAMERAS SIGHTED DOWN THE SINKS TO SHOW YOU ENTERING AND LEAVING THE STALLS, NOTHING OVER THE STALLS. FIVE FLYING NANOS.
TAKE THEM OVER, NELLY. TRY NOT TO KILL THEM.
WORKING ON THEM.
Abby checked the four stalls and found them empty. She stood back for a moment eyeing them dubiously, then muttered, ''That looks like the cleanest.'' She pulled a bottle from her bag and sprayed down the place. Without a word, she stepped aside to allow Kris to enter.
The drill was to act pathologically terrified of germs. Hell-for-brimstone fighters could be quivering jelly where tiny bugs were concerned. It gave Kris an excuse to immediately flush the toilet, then flush it again. HOW WE DOING, NELLY?
ONE MORE.
DO YOU KNOW WHERE WE ARE? Kris thought as she settled down.
I HAVE LOCATED THIS RESTAURANT ON THE SCHEMATIC. THE FLOW BETWEEN HERE AND THE POTENTIALLY RICH METHANE TRAP SHOULD BE ABOUT TEN MINUTES. I CAN PROGRAM THE EXPLOSIVES.
Drat, that might cut dinner short and certainly would mess with dancing. Then, of course, the security details might not react to a little trouble in the sewage treatment plant. Right, my luck is bound to change before I'm an ancient spinster of thirty. Kris laughed to herself.