When Kris first put on the dress whites' high-necked choker, she'd figured it for a torture device. Count on Mother to come up with a worse one. Kris, with nothing for the bustier to force up, was quite content behind her starched whites. Unfortunately, the whites did not bug out Tommy's eyes like the bustiers did.
Mother held court on the far south corner of the ballroom with most of the social women, parliamentary wives and the likes. Father, for his own reasons, circled through most of the men of parliament and business in the northern corner. Big brother Honovi, still in his first term in parliament, was right at Father's elbow. He was learning the family trade from the best; Kris wished him well.
The east corner was anchored by a fleet of admirals and generals. Captains and majors formed an outlying picket line that seemed to shelter the big brass from all but the most insistent civilians. Kris considered taking refuge in their ranks, but at the heart of it was another cluster of family, her Great-grandfathers Longknife and Trouble. She had no idea how to handle meeting them for the first time in ten or fifteen years. Does an ensign throw her arms around an old general and give him a hug, or stand stiff at attention and throw out a brisk ''Good afternoon, sir.'' General McMorrison, Chief of the Wardhaven Staff, stood elbow to elbow with General Ho, the Chairman of Earth's General Staff. Around them was an unusually large contingent of other planetary staff chairmen. Somehow Kris doubted she had the security clearances for their small talk.
Resigning herself to the inevitable, Kris turned for the prime minister's contingent to see what official duties were assigned her. Before Kris reached Father, Honovi detached himself from the prime minister's elbow and moved to intercept her. Following in his wake was a new fellow who, judging from dress and crew cut, had to be a security agent. Kris smiled greetings to both. The agent actually nodded in her direction. Honovi launched immediately into the business at hand.
''Little sister, you really have the old man bent out of shape. It's worse than when you ran off to the Navy.''
''I do seem to have that effect.'' They exchanged a mutual shrug they'd mastered long ago for the inevitable.
''Well, I've got him calmed down for the day. What do you say we don't risk you two having a bit of a chat?''
''I could just circulate and smile and say a few nice words.''
''Very few, very nice words,'' Honovi emphasized with that irksome way that he had of making like he'd won Kris over to what she'd already surrendered to.
Kris came to an exaggerated attention. ''Yes, sir, no questions asked, sir.''
''Somehow, I doubt even the Navy can get that out of my little sister.'' Honovi smiled. ''And, Sis, I do appreciate what you did for my campaign. Even Father says, in his calmer moments, that you pulled my chestnuts out of the fire.''
Kris leaned over and gave her big brother, who was now a good two centimeters shorter than her, a peck on the cheek. ''Keep up the good work, Brother. Make Father happy.''
''I will. Now shoo. The more Longknifes circulating, the more hands get shook.'' He quoted Father's perennial demand, then glanced at each of the corners of the room not under family domination. ''Say something nice to that officer clique over there or to the veterans. You and I both know Father could use all the help he can get on his right wing, and what with your medal and all, it can't but help.''
It was nice to know how risking her-life was valued by her Father. ''On my way,'' Kris said dutifully, turning away.
''Is that the way it is?'' Tommy asked once Honovi was gone.
''You mean politics first, nothing else even a close second?''
''I guess.''
''Isn't it business first in your family?''
''Yes, but we have fun, too.''
''Tommy,'' Kris said, glancing around, keeping her smile firmly pasted on her face, ''this is a very politically rich target environment. It's times like this that my family does its business.''
''Think Harvey could run me home?''
''Just smile and listen, and nothing can go wrong,'' Kris said, tossing Tommy the minimum survival advice her father had offered when she was six. Opposite the active military was a collection of old veterans marked by their medals proudly worn on the lapels and prim necklines of civilian clothes. Since they included no family Kris could recognize, she headed for them, but her progress was slow.
''Kris, I hardly recognized you in that white,'' one of Mother's socialite friends called loudly. ''Girl, it is so not your color.'' Kris sighed and paused as a matron and her daughter sailed down on her and Tommy. The mother simply bulged the latest fashion in all the wrong places. Her daughter's bulges were enough to make Tommy's eyes bulge out worse…and she had either rouged her breasts or was showing a few more millimeters than even Kris's mother displayed.
''I was hoping you would organize our summer fashion show the way you did last year,'' the mother gushed. ''You do have such a way with schedules and checklists and things.''
''Mother,'' her daughter said, rolling her eyes at the ceiling, ''even you can see she has other things to organize. Or are they letting you do much of anything?'' she said, looking Kris up and down. ''You are starting at the bottom, aren't you, a pennant or flag or whatever your rank is.''
''Ensign,'' Kris provided. Behind her, a more interesting conversation was going on.
''There'll be no limit on the profit potential, son,'' assured a high-pitched voice, ''once we throw out that bunch of scared old ladies in petticoats back on Earth that have kept a lid on our expansion. They're bleeding us white, making us settle every barely habitable planet in their expansion zone before they'll let us take another baby step outward. It's embarrassing that the damn treaty strangling growth is named after Wardhaven.''
''Well, I know that sweetie McMorrison,'' the matron went on. ''Maybe if I put in a good word for you, he could loan you for this year's fashion show.''
Kris muttered something like ''Good luck,'' and turned away as they did the same. She found herself face-to-face with a rotund businessman who went as red as his tie when he realized his last remark had been made in the presence of the great-granddaughter of the man who, as president of the Society of Humanity at the close of the Iteeche War, made the treaty limiting human expansion his last achievement before retirement.
Kris smiled, offered her hand and, as he took it reflexively, she said without missing a beat, ''Don't you think expanding the human growth boundary four times in the last sixty years showed a lot of courage on the part of those who fought the Iteeche?''
He sputtered something, and Kris passed on.
''How do you do that?''
''Do what?''
''Keep track of all the conversations and switch from one person to the next like some kind of computer,'' he said.
''Well, for one thing, I don't forget my name every time a pair of bouncing boobs comes at me.''
''It must be great having your own nice pair to look at every time you take a shower.'' Tommy grinned shamelessly.
''Wouldn't know, myself.''
''I'd be glad to offer an opinion,'' Tommy said solicitously, then swallowed a laugh. ''Can you imagine the look on Thorpe's face when he gets orders to TDY you to cover a fashion show?''
''Don't even go there,'' Kris said, trying not to cringe visibly. All she'd done to be just a regular ensign would vanish if General McMorrison gave in to that biddy.
''Kris, what are you doing in the Navy? I thought you were headed into politics,'' came from Kris's left. She paused to give a young woman, who was actually dressed, time to catch up with her. It wasn't enough time, however, for Kris to dredge up her name. Kris smiled and offered a hand.
''I bet you don't remember me,'' the woman started. ''I'm Yuki Fantano, from up north in Tuson. You spent a week putting our campaign headquarters in shape for your dad's last reelection.''
''Of course, Yuki,'' Kris lied. ''How are things up north?''