''Nope.'' Kris grinned back. ''We JOs pretty much waste all our time on engineering, battle tactics, and similar trivia,'' she said, examining the gold medallion. The highest award Earth could give. Wow. And when was the last time it was mailed out in a brown wrapper? Damn it, I worked just as hard to earn this bauble as anyone who got it hung on them in a rose garden. Will everything I do good be swept under the rug because I'm one of those Longknifes? But Lordy, if I screw up…
''What did you do to earn this?'' Abby asked.
''If I told you, then Jack truly would have to shoot you,'' Kris deadpanned. To Kris's surprise, Jack nodded.
Abby frowned briefly at the put-off, but picked up the blue sash and took it to a cream dress hanging against one wall of the dressing room. Unlike the monstrosities Mother chose, this one was of a conservative cut: strapless, pulled tight at the waist before flowing out smoothly to floor length. While the ''in'' fashion might range from shapeless sacks to damn near naked, this was always appropriate. ''You can wear the sash over the shoulder,'' Abby said, ''and pin it here, under the opposite arm so that it flows smoothly across you. I think that would be best,'' the Earth woman told Kris. The men nodded agreement.
Kris sighed. Like a large blue arrow, it would point straight at the empty space in the dress where most women had breasts. ''I will be wearing my uniform tonight.''
Abby frowned at the corner that held the items of Navy issue: battle dress, khakis, whites, and the standard formal evening dress of a junior female officer. She pulled the formal from the lineup and held it next to the cream dress. One was appropriate for a fairy Princess. The other was just flat dowdy.
The uniform's white, floor-length skirt was cut from the same design as a millennia of gunnysacks. Kris had chosen the blue wool blouse that had the tight choker neck, thereby avoiding any hint of décolletage. Miniatures of her few medals were already in place. Abby looked back and forth between Kris and the standard dress uniform. ''The colors are not your best,'' she said as she chewed on her lower lip.
''The colors are established Navy wide,'' Kris answered back.
Abby laid the Wounded Lion's blue sash across the blouse. The light, watermarked blue of the sash and the dark blue of the blouse could only be said to fit because a thousand years of valor and service said they did. Abby shook her head, opened her mouth.
Kris cut her off. ''That is what I am wearing tonight.''
Abby turned to Harvey and Jack. ''Do all military uniforms seek to make a woman look so…''
''Unappealing?'' Jack offered.
''Yes.''
''It seems that way,'' Harvey agreed. ''Women are there to do a job, not flirt,'' the old trooper growled.
''But the men look so dashing in their uniforms.'' Abby said.
''A historical anachronism left from days past,'' Kris spat. ''We women, however, have all the advantages of the modern era.''
''Or error,'' Jack put in with one of his patented grins.
''Supper is ready,'' Nelly spoke up, still in a low-tech voice, startling Kris. ''Harvey, Lotty wants you downstairs to pick up a tray. Will you men be eating in the kitchen?''
''Looks that way,'' Jack said, and the men left Kris and her new mistress of the wardrobe to dress. Having won on the most important point of debate that afternoon, Kris let Abby do as she pleased. Pampered, made over, and perfumed, her short, blond hair wound around her head in a confection that Kris never would have attempted, she was dressed in less than an hour. Nelly was back around Kris's shoulders, a second reason to wear the uniform, before she and Abby crossed swords again. Abby returned with the diamond and gold tiara Mother had bought at some overpriced rummage sale. ''Perfect for a Princess,'' Mother had gushed.
As Kris did then, she said, ''I'm not wearing that.''
Abby started to say something, looked at Kris, and seemed to think better of it. ''What will you be wearing?''
''Right beside that in my jewelry box was a simple silver circlet, standard issue for any woman junior officer in formal dinner attire.''
''Not that!''
''Yes that.''
Abby glanced at the tiara, then eyed the circlet. ''A Princess should wear a tiara.''
''That is a tiara. Says so right in the dress regulations. Tiara, formal, junior officers, female.''
''Do senior officers wear something nicer?'' Abby said, trading the diamond concoction for the Navy issue.
''Yep. They get nicer and nicer until Admirals are wearing something pretty fancy.''
''And are very old,'' Abby said with a sour frown on her face.
''Horribly old,'' Kris agreed.
Tiaraed and sashed, Kris made her way carefully down the stairs in heels twice as high as she normally wore… which also were prescribed in regulations. Maybe Abby had a point. Whoever designed this outfit sure hadn't put her physical comfort or appearance at a very high priority. Was the uniform regulations development bureau the last place in the Navy where a woman hater was allowed free rein? Jack, now in a tux, stood at the bottom of the stairs.
''You going to catch me when I fall?''
''Looks like it.''
''You could come up here and help me stay on these heels.''
''And get spiked by one? Sorry, not in my job description.''
''Seems like your job description is getting kind of short.''
''Yes, isn't it,'' Jack said, stepping aside as Kris left the stairs behind her. Harvey brought a monster limo to the front drive. Abby helped Kris arrange her skirt in the backseat.
Harvey got the limo on autopilot, then turned to take in Kris. ''That sash does brighten up a dull outfit.'' he drawled. ''By the way, can a Wardhaven officer wear an Earth order?''
''Oh my gosh!'' Kris was learning a Princess did not use the S word in public and should practice not using it in private. She reached to unpin the sash.
''I checked.'' Harvey grinned. ''Earth, being an ally of Wardhaven… in some small thanks to whatever you did or didn't do at the Paris system… their orders are authorized.''
''Harvey, you could have told me that in the first place!''
''Yes, but then we'd have missed that look on your face.''
''What look?''
''Oh, part shock, part dismay, part ‘Oh my God, I've screwed up again!' It's very becoming on you.''
''I did not think I'd screwed up again.'' Kris settled for appealing only one of the three charges from her oldest friend.
The ball failed to match the excitement of it's preparation. Kris passed the usual chatter with the usual suspects. Didn't these people have day jobs to tire them out? Her older brother Honovi was at Father's right hand, like a good junior member of Parliament, understudying the master. Since there was no immediate political need to paper over their feelings about her career choice, Kris and the Prime Minister ignored each other.
Mother could not be ignored.
''What do you think of Abby?'' was the woman's opening gambit.
Kris took a step back and opened her arms to show off her uniform. ''I only fired her twice as she was getting me ready.''
''You can't fire her. I'm paying for her. I had hoped she would at least put you in something presentable.
''That would require firing her three times in one night.''
''And I was so looking forward to her dressing you in something that would remove my daughter from the top of the fashion police's ten-worst-dressed list.'' Mother sighed.
''Have your fashion policia send me the citation, Mother. I'll file it among my dust bunnies.'' Kris moved along as Mother launched into a diatribe to the woman on her right.
Grampa Ray made the required appearance and was mobbed by both favor seekers and eligible matrons looking to end his long years of widowerhood. Nothing like the chance to be Queen of eighty planets to gather every social climber within light-years. A few were presently married but clearly willing to trade up. King Ray made his way through the bejeweled crowd as a jungle scout might pass through a trove of bothersome flies. But he noticed who he wanted, and that included Kris. He raised an eyebrow at the sash and medallion.