''Hot as the dickens, and this early in the year, no less. I still can't get over how quickly you took that chaos and turned it into a cracking good show.''
''Well, I have a bit of experience in that sort of thing.''
''I bet you do.'' Yuki grinned.
''And I didn't know any of you, so I just started sweeping things up, and you were all kind enough to go along with me.''
''When is Billy Longknife finally going to admit we have to have import duties to protect our industries from the cheap crap Earth spews out for its bulging slums?'' Kris heard behind her. A quick glance showed two older men in concentrated talk. ''And look at all these women, gussied up like Brenda Longknife. They look like Earth whores. Maybe now Billy will support travel restrictions. Christ on a crutch, in a few minutes we're going to pin a medal on that Longknife girl for saving one of our kids from a bunch of scum from the Seven Bitches. A good passport system would have kept those crooks where they belonged.''
''If a Longknife did it,'' his friend assured the speaker, ''it couldn't have been too hard. After all, the kidnappers were just two-bit thugs. All the inner worlds ever teach their kids in school is how to steal old ladies' purses.''
Yuki blanched.
Kris shrugged, smiled, and went on her way.
''Why didn't you say something there?'' Tommy asked.
''Ever try to teach a pig to sing?'' she answered.
''I guess that would be a waste of time. So tell me, how did you turn the Tuson office on its ear so fast you impressed Yuki?''
''Just about anything is easy, Tom, if you don't care how successful you are or if the people you're switching around are ‘so honored' to have you. I learned that the second time I got dumped in the middle of nowhere with orders to make a bunch of strangers work together and help get Father votes.'' And joined the Navy so they couldn't keep sending me off to wherever their bacon needed saving. The military stays out of politics so, now, Ensign Kristine Longknife will, too. ''Of course,'' she finished, ''whatever you do, smile while you're doing it.''
''Smile, huh?''
''Yes, and keep smiling. I know these two.''
''Earth business is robbing me blind because of that ridiculous short patent life,'' Dr. U'ting, research professor of nanobiology griped. ''Just about the time we get one of my ideas into production out here, those thieves on Earth declare my patent expired and start cranking stuff out for themselves. The Rim is doing all the research, and they're not paying us a wooden Earth Dickle for it. I say cut them loose and let them rot.''
''We need a central patent law, Larry, and the Rim has been trying to lengthen patent durations,'' Dr. Meade, Kris's old Political Science professor, pointed out.
''And the last time the Senate passed it, that Earth slave of a president vetoed the bill. Hell, Grant, when was the last time the Rim elected a president? Longknife wasn't it. Oh, maybe one or two since, but so long as the president is a popular election, Earth and her Seven Witches will fill that slot, and we can't get a law through. As far as I'm concerned, we're better off on our own. Each planet for itself. We issue our own patents, we lock up our own files. Let those thieves try duplicating my work without my own patent application to rummage through.''
''They are the largest market,'' Doc Meade pointed out, taking a sip from his drink.
''And they have the largest fleet,'' Kris said, joining the conversation on cue. ''Back in the Iteeche War, it was that fleet that saved us. That and Earth's billions to crew them.''
''Hello Kris, I see you've done well,'' Doc Meade beamed.
''Just did my job,'' Kris answered.
''Who cares about ancient history,'' the other growled.
''The Iteeche Empire has gone back to sleep, and nobody's seen any sign of another alien species.''
''Thanks to the Treaty of Wardhaven, we really haven't done much hunting for aliens,'' Doc Meade pointed out.
''It's a big galaxy, and we've only touched its surface.''
''You're sounding like some Earthie with his head stuck in the sand.''
Kris nodded to Doc Meade and moved on, leaving him to the familiar argument. She was in a contest to shake as many hands as possible. A bar wasn't far ahead. Kris paused just long enough to get a tonic water; Tom finally got a beer.
Close on her right were the vets she had been working her way toward. They were easily recognized by the medals they wore on their lapels: veterans of the Iteeche War. These older women were probably the only ones in the room who had stayed with the coats, blouses, and flowing pants of that older era. Then again, Kris could think of no way to pin their battle ribbons to a bustier. The thought of Mother putting the golden sun blossom of the Order of Earth, or the Military Medal anywhere on her getup made Kris smile.
Several of the veterans returned her smile and Kris easily gravitated toward them. As the prime minister's daughter, she had spent little time with these folks. As a serving ensign, they welcomed her. They did not, however, let her arrival interrupt the inner circle's ongoing topic.
''What these kids need is a good war.''
''Too soft, too soft by a straight shot, I tell you.''
''A good war would give them some grit. Solid grit.''
''Look at them, all got up like a bunch of hussies.''
''Bunch of blind followers.''
''A good war would teach them how to stand on their own two feet.''
''And look who's leading them. That damn Longknife and his scandals. Bastard never served a day in uniform in his life.''
''A couple of hours with a good DI, and that man would know which direction to lead.''
''My DI would have given him a bit of backbone.''
''More than a bit,'' got dry chuckles all around.
A few of the insiders of the circle noted Kris' s presence; it was kind of hard to not notice her whites against the garish colors circulating around the room. Gentle nudges were usually followed by glances her way, but there was no slowdown in grumbling about her father. Tommy seemed ready to withdraw, but Kris just let it roll. Once you've faced an Iteeche warrior, a minor thing like a politician's daughter could hardly make you change your mind, let alone your favorite topic.
It was nothing new to Kris; she'd heard it all before. Even some senior officers, Captain Thorpe included, felt kids today were only out to make their first million, and damn the cost to the community. Duty and honor were lost on this generation and the politicians leading them. In some corners there was even a darker twist. The wrong people were running things. A good war would show the world who really deserved to be top dog.
Eye contact and a smile exchanged with everyone, Kris turned away. ''You know, I can understand why these old vets are the way they are,'' she told Tommy. ''It's a lot harder to understand why someone under a hundred would sound like them.''
''Could it be that you're kind of close to the folks that have it good?'' Tommy asked and answered.
''You saying I'm part of the problem?''
''No, just maybe too close to one side to see the other.''
''You in favor of charging out into the unknown?''
''Hey, Kris, I'm from Santa Maria. We are out in that unknown. But even there, some folks see it one way, others the other.''
''But we all have to live in the same galaxy. And somehow we have to do it all together. Any suggestions?''
''If I had any, wouldn't I have told your old da the first time I saw him?''
Kris studied the room. Mother and her henhouse was to her right. The military was ahead of her. Kris started across the room to see what she could do there.
And ran into Commodore Sampson and… ''Kristine Longknife, I bet you don't remember me.'' A slightly gray, middle-aged man, impeccably dressed said, holding out a beefy hand. Behind him, three, no, four security types that made the men around Father look actually anemic took her measurements, then went back to scanning the crowd. Now there were four people who weren't assuming no blood would be spilled here today.