''Honey, this only makes it easy to get at your explosives.''
''What is it with you and booby bombs?''
''Young woman, how can you expect Hollywood to make a spectacle of your life if you don't have lots of explosions?''
''And boobs.''
''As someone nature failed to properly endow, I make it my mission in life to correct such shortcomings. Now strip, Miss Princess. Full body stocking is suggested with this getup.''
Kris stripped but didn't stop arguing. It kept her mind off of what she was getting into. ''How can I wear full armor with this and still get at those booby bombs of yours?''
''They have sticky backs to go on the outside of the suit.''
''Why didn't you do that with the first batch tonight?''
''Because I had no idea how close you'd let that Hank Peterwald get.''
''It was dinner, Abby. Dinner and dancing, maybe. Turned out not to even be dinner.''
''Ah, the confidence of youth. You honestly believe you know exactly what you'll do from moment to moment, don't you?''
''Of course,'' Kris said, down to nothing and starting to pull on the body stocking. Like everything made of Super Spider Silk, it had no give; Abby talced Kris; the pain was almost bearable.
''Well, Baby Cakes, someday you're going to find that passion or hormones or just the raging fates can blow your plans away. When it does, remember Mamma Abby warned you. Oh, and don't forget to enjoy it.''
''Aren't we here because of the raging fates?'' Kris said.
''No, honey child, we are here because you still harbor the illusion you can snap your fingers and make anything happen.''
''Am I that bad?'' Kris said, feeling the pressure of what she'd gotten these people into closing in on her. Suddenly it was hard to breathe.
Abby glanced up from where she was working the suit up Kris's narrow hips, sighed, and let the hint of a smile cross her lower lip. ''In case you haven't noticed, there's a whole lot of stuff going on around here. You're part of it. I, may the gods and goddesses have mercy on my misspent youth, am part of it. Even that poor Hank kid has his part. I believe you're trying to make it better for a whole lot of people who have a part in this, but no control over it. You, however, young woman, have the illusion that you can control it, and having that illusion, may very well gain control.''
Kris shook her head and made a sour face at her maid. ''Well, then, who do you think has control here? Sandfire?''
''Sandfire walks in the illusion of control, just as you do. Just as your Captain did on the Typhoon. But you grabbed the imagination of the rest of the crew so powerfully they were dragged right into your illusion. Look what happened. I can't wait to see whose illusion is the most powerful here.''
Kris frowned as she worked her arms into the suit. Abby had just shown she knew a whole of a lot more about Kris's life than she should. Another thing to grill this woman on later. Right now, Abby had piqued Kris's curiosity. ''If Sandfire and I only have the illusion of control, then who is running this lash-up? Tell me, oh suddenly wise and ancient monk of the mountain.''
Abby actually laughed, a chuckle that shook her body from belly to hairline. ''And what makes you so sure someone is in control? You put a single person in a room, and maybe they control themselves. Maybe, assuming they don't get in an argument with their father or mother and let someone not there control them. You put two, three, a dozen, a million people into a room, onto a planet, and Great Hera herself can't tell you who's running things. Does your dad run Wardhaven?''
''Heavens no. Wardhaven's a democracy. Father's only—''
''Got you there. Let's see how this dress falls.'' And Abby brought it, and Kris lifted her arms and let it settle around her. The waist was tight. The skirt swished, which Kris was finding delightful, and the bodice was a scandal. Or would have been if Kris filled it out. Abby did with two bombs that jiggled nicely for any male type suffering from testosterone poisoning.
''No bra?''
''Why spoil the view? Distracting a male eye could be half the battle tonight. Now, let's load you up.'' Kris's ten kilos of dumb metal went into a strap that rode high on her rump. The short, flounced skirt covered it nicely. Abby produced a laser.
''Where'd that come from?''
''That nice Jack brought it through security. You were planning on using the metal to drill, but why don't we avoid turning that hunk of not-so-smart metal into one thing, then another.''
''Agreed,'' and Kris developed a pouch of a tummy.
''You're filling out nicely,'' Abby said. ''You really should put on some weight. All bones and angles can't help but scare the guys away.''
''And I always thought it was being able to buy and sell them from my petty change purse,'' Kris drawled.
''Can't really tell until you try it, can you?''
''Why don't we get out of this mess, then discuss my diet.''
''Good idea,'' Abby said, settling Kris's Navy tiara on her piled-up hair, then running a wire down to Nelly at Kris's waist. ''I've included the antennas in the tiara,'' the maid said.
''Too bad I don't have the fancy one tonight.''
''I'll have backup crowns for you next time we go adventuring,'' Abby said, turning back to Kris with four small cylinders in hand. ''Here are more nice booms. There're pockets for them just under the waist of your skirt. These are nice whizbangs, guaranteed to make anyone near them lose all interest in chasing you for a whole minute, maybe two.''
Kris pocketed the four, noting their green strips. A close look at her skirt showed a dozen pockets. Abby presented four more. ''These are sleepy bombs. Let us know when you use them, unless you want us to sleep along with the bad guys. Sorry, no masks, a slight oversight on my part.''
''Has to be the first. I've got four empty pockets.''
''These are deadly. Fragmentation bombs. Use them when you want a whole lot of people to quit bothering you.'' Kris handled them respectfully and made special note of where she put them and their red strips. Finally Abby handed Kris a small automatic and three clips. ''Use them sparingly. That's all you have.''
Kris checked the works. One clip of sleepy darts was already loaded. She clicked in a lethal load next to it. Switch the safety off, and it was sleepy darts. Move the switch another click, it was lethal. Kris left it at sleepy darts for a start.
It would not stay that way. Tonight she would kill someone—or be killed. Kris let the thought roll around in her head. Her stomach went sour; her heart took on a chill. She'd never been in a him-or-me situation before. Sandfire wanted her dead in the worst way. She liked breathing. Someday she might even want a family. If I do things right tonight, the option stays open. Blow it, let Sandfire win, and I die.
Kris holstered the small automatic on her right thigh, adjusted the fall of her skirt, and stood tall. ''Let's go.''
''Let me clean up a few things. I'll be right with you.''
Kris opened the door of her suite. Outside, Tom was still in formal dress uniform. With a grin, he made two service automatics appear. Beside him, Penny was in like drill, white dress pants in place of the long skirt otherwise required. The cut of her tunic was loose enough to hide exactly where she produced a machine pistol from. Jack simply stood beside them, looking his usual friendly, deadly self.
''Are we ready?'' Kris asked.
''Looks like it,'' ''Ready as we'll ever be,'' was followed by Jack's simple ''Yes.''
''What do our guards look like out there?''
''I told the Sergeant we were in for the night. He dismissed half of them.''
''We've evacuated the top of this thing. Nelly, order the nanos in the yard to link up and short out transformers.''