Kris waited while her glass was filled, then performed the mandatory sampling, praised it extravagantly, then set it next to her water glass and promised herself not to touch it again. After last night, she wasn't going down that road twice.
''Doesn't sound like there've been a lot of permanent fixtures in your life.'' Kris said to move the topic away from wine.
Hank thought on that one. ''No,'' he finally grinned. ''Haven't you heard, the only permanent thing in life is change.''
''Read it somewhere.'' Kris agreed wryly. ''I could usually count on a few things. Harvey was always there to take me to soccer games and cheer me on. His wife was always ready with a treat in the kitchen. And there were always aunts and uncles, some actually blood relatives. Didn't you have family?''
''Uncle Steven died in a racing accident when I was a kid. Aunt Eve had one of her many love affairs go sour in a rather major way. If she hadn't insisted on traipsing off to the most out-of-the-way places, she'd still be with us. By the way, the trunk of that rig outside has a full emergency medical station in it. The driver isn't certified for brain surgery, but I bet he'd love to give it a try.''
Kris put her elbows on the table, rested her chin on her two hands, and batted her eyelashes dramatically. ''Listening to you makes my childhood seem rather, well, delightful, on review.''
''Oh, come now, it couldn't have been all that great. Nobody has a good childhood. It says so in all the books.''
And so the lunch went, each of them cheerfully trying to better the worst the other claimed for their upbringing. It was a game Kris had never had a chance to play; it is hard to get a fair hearing when even those closest to you are envious. At university, Kris had quickly learned that even those she let down her guard around could not believe a Longknife ever had reason to complain.
The meal went surprisingly quickly, and when Kris excused herself to the little girls' room, she was startled to find that two hours had passed. Washing her hands, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her nose hadn't gotten any smaller, and what the weather was doing to her skin would have had her mother galloping for the nearest spa. Her close-cropped hair wasn't quite as bad as that on some scarecrows. Still, Hank was clearly warming to her. He was one man who wouldn't be after her money if Auntie Tru's financial statements could be trusted. Of course, Auntie Tru was sure he, or at least his family, wanted her dead.
Kris tossed the used paper in the basket, eyed the lotions, sprays, and other personal necessities offered for use beside the sink, gave up on a quick remake of the ensign into some kind of glamour girl, and returned to the table. Hank was talking into the commlink merged into his suit's cuffs. ''Drop the next three as quickly as you can,'' he said, then stood to greet Kris. ''If you take time for dessert, I think you will find some very nice presents waiting for you at the port.''
''What would you suggest?'' Their server had already brought over a cart, covered with chocolate, fruit, and baked confections to make the soul water as much as the mouth. A sniff told Kris these were not plastic stand-ins but truly savory offerings. The imp bit her, as Harvey's wife would say. ''Thank you, just park the cart here. Come back in an hour to pick up the crumbs,'' she grinned.
''You heard the lady,'' Hank said, waving the young man away.
''No, no, no,'' Kris said. ''I'm already too stuffed to be worth much on the job this afternoon. Do you have any sorbet?''
''Raspberry, strawberry, or citrus medley,'' the server said.
''Citrus medley,'' Kris said.
''Same for me,'' Hank finished, though he looked longingly at the cart as it was rolled away.
''Just because I'm passing doesn't mean a growing boy like you has to,'' Kris pointed out.
''Discipline, Dad says. ‘Discipline yourself, because nobody else will, or can.' '' Hank quoted. ''I suspect you have already discovered that when rebelling against successful parents, one must be selective. Not all of what they handed us was bunk.''
''Ah, yes,'' Kris answered sincerely, ''but separating all that manure from the pony can be the challenge of a lifetime.''
''Is that why you're in the Navy?''
''Is that why you're on Olympia?''
''I'm here to see for myself what needed doing.''
''Yes, but why are you doing it in the first place? Your father can't be too happy that you're taking this detour on your way to that start-up,'' Kris said, turning all the generalities they'd tossed about over lunch into a very specific Why are you here? that would make Auntie Tru proud.
''Yes, but the straight route would be pleasing Dad a bit too much. I have to get a little of what I want.''
''But why do you want this?''
''Ah, now that would be telling a bit much for a first date, don't you think?''
Maybe, but then again, it would be nice to know what was really going on behind that dancing smile, those hooded eyes. But before Kris could come up with further probes, her commlink went off. ''Ensign Longknife,'' she snapped.
''There's been a rocket attack at the warehouse.''
Kris's stomach went into free fall, and that fine steak started demanding revisitation rights to her mouth. ''Casualties?''
''Don't know yet,'' Tom shot back.
''I'll be right there,'' Kris said, standing and about knocking over the waiter bringing their sorbet. Hank rose just as quickly and went through the formalities of covering the check. His gunmen assured that the way to the car was clear, even as Hank signed off on a bill that made even Kris gulp. Outside, it was hardly raining, but there was no one else on the street, no one on the roofs, no one peering out any window.
The locals had learned to hide when things went boom in broad daylight.
Five minutes later, Kris was back at her warehouse compound. A gaping hole showed in the south side of her nightly watchtower. Smoke came from her own office area.
''I'm going to have to leave you here,'' Hank said. ''There is only so much stretch in my dad's orders before these two get me in a hammerlock.''
''I know what you mean. You had no way of knowing the hornets' nest your lunch date had stirred up.''
''Watch the next three drop ships. I really wanted to be here when you opened them. They'll have trucks and those boats I told you about.''
''Wanted to see what I look like excited, maybe steal a kiss?''
''The thought had occurred to me.''
She gave him a peck. ''Now you know what it's like having a sister. Now I've got to run. See you next time I see you.''
He laughed, maybe a bit startled by the kiss. ''Yes, I definitely will see you again.'' And then he was gone.
Kris didn't look back; it was time to be Navy again. Where were the casualties? Where were the attackers? How safe was this place? She tapped her commlink. ''Ensign Longknife in the warehouse compound. Any report on casualties?''
''We've collected all three of the wounded at Warehouse 2.''
That was where Kris's office was. ''All present or accounted for. We got lucky. No one killed,'' Tom reported.
That was good to hear. Kris double-timed it for the wounded. Ester Saddik was wrapping a bandage around one civilian's arm. Spens, Kris's accountant, was lying down, his uniform torn and bloody. A medic was going over him.
''Ouch,'' Spens said as a bloody section of shirt got lifted.
''Can't be too bad if you can still complain,'' the corpsman chided.
''Bad enough. Damn it, why didn't Dad ever have a day like this at the office?''
''Probably ‘cause Dad never pissed off the bad guys like we did yesterday,'' Kris suggested.
''Nah, Dad always ran with the bad guys, respectable ones, not like the ones we took on yesterday, but just as nasty. Ensign, glad to see you back.''
''Sorry I wasn't here for all the fun.'' Kris said, kicking herself for a two-hour lunch.