''Hire a security team to escort the new ones out, be sure the old ones come back. I'll have Sam give Nelly the number of a reputable one.''
''What I can't understand is, why?'' Kris allowed herself to muse out loud on this attack for the first time. ''I mean, trying to kill me while rescuing that little girl on Sequim, that would have gotten half the Rim worlds up in arms against Earth. But me drowning while on an emergency medical run? What political purpose would that serve?''
Tru just shook her head. ''Sometimes I wonder what you Longknifes use for blood. Honey, your dad, your Grampa Trouble, your Grampa Ray are up to their receding hairlines trying to hold on to at least a part of the Society. You add grief to the load they're carrying, and they are bound to start making mistakes they wouldn't otherwise.''
Kris listened to Tru, tried to picture her father broken up over her passing. The picture didn't fit. Then she thought of all the changes in the family after Eddy's death. It had cost Mother and Father. Would her death cost them as much?
Maybe.
''I'll think about that,'' she told Tru. ''What's happening here? Are we going to war?''
Tru blinked at the sudden change in topic. She took a moment to rub her eyes with both fists. For the first time in Kris's life, she realized that her old auntie was old. Very old, probably over a hundred, and those years hadn't been gentle. ''I hope not,'' Tru finally whispered. ''It would do few any good.''
''Who thinks it would do them some good?''
''Old farts who've fought one war and forgotten what it's like. Fresh-faced heroes that are tired of doing a great job of nothing and have no idea what the real face of war is like.'' Kris winced, remembering her hero wanna-be. But he was just a kid…and now would never grow up to learn different.
Tru eyed Kris, seemed to measure the wince against some godlike scale, and shared with her a tired smile.
''You've grown up since I last saw you.''
''Aged,'' Kris offered in its stead.
Tru nodded. ''Then, of course, there's the nutcases who want to be emperor of humanity, for reasons comprehendible only to shrinks. Included among them are your friend Hank's pappy and grandpappy. They're forming up their own alliance anchored on Greenfeld, fifty planets strong. Earth has forty or so that will hang with her. Your father has sixty to a hundred leaning toward whatever Wardhaven does. Other folks are looking around…trying to figure out who they should join, better join, or have to join.''
''Have to?'' Kris asked.
''Peterwald's Greenfeld Group has the mortgage on lots of worlds and is squeezing them damn hard. His planet has a good collection of warships. They were the first to haul ships out of the Society fleet. Folks are looking at geography differently. Short trade routes might be fast invasion routes. Take that disaster you call Olympia. Forty-seven planets within one jump of there. Nearly one hundred and fifty within two. A quarter of human space could be defended by a fleet stationed there…or invaded. Why do you think Wardhaven was so quick to take an interest when it got in trouble?''
''Milk of human kindness?'' Tommy offered.
''Right. Want to guess who bought up all those farms that suddenly came up for sale? Peterwald and associates.''
''I was wondering about that. You saved me a search,'' Kris said. ''Anything else new there?''
''Maybe. Seems one of Smythe-Peterwald's ships paid a visit to Olympia two years back. According to the automated control station in Olympia orbit, it left a week later. There's no record of that ship showing up anywhere for a solid year. Olympia has an asteroid belt. How long do you think it would take to usher one onto a collision course with Olympia? What kind of a volcanic explosion was it that wrecked Olympia's budding economy?''
''You can check it out,'' Kris said. ''There's mud in with the liquid metal. See if it's got asteroid dust in it. If that's not enough, I've got a small can of the stuff in my duffel.''
''Young woman, you are paranoid.'' Tru beamed.
''I contracted it from the people around me.'' Kris got to her feet. ''Nelly, order a cab. I want to go see Grampa Alex.''
Tru shook her head. ''He's a harder man to see than the prime minister.''
''I suspect so, but I need some answers, and old silent Al is the only one that can even guess at them. Jack, you ready to protect me from high-paid private security guards?''
He made a face. ''Overpaid, in my book.''
''Kris, can I walk home from here?'' Tommy squeaked. ''Remember, I don't like guns. I don't like power lunches. I'm just a simple country boy from Santa Maria.''
''Come on, Ensign, let's march,'' Kris started, then froze in place, remembering Colonel Hancock's little talk in the truck. ''Tom, if you really want to sit this one out, it's okay by me.''
Tom reached for her forehead, felt it. ''You sick, woman?''
''No, but I'm remembering what Colonel Hancock said. Sometimes I think too quickly about what I want and too slowly about what others need.''
''Good God,'' Tru drew herself up to her full height, turned her head to first stare at Kris with her right eye, then her left like some monstrous bird of prey. ''Are you growing up, woman? You're actually starting to sound mature. Be careful about that. You can never follow in your father's footsteps if you start considering other people's needs. Come to think of it, I'm not sure any of your ancestors suffered from that affliction. Some of them did have the saving grace of putting their necks out a few millimeters more than the ones they were pushing.''
Kris shrugged off the theatrics. ''Maybe I acquired a little humility with all the mud on Olympia.''
''No.'' Tru shook her head dourly. ''More like wisdom. A horrible weight to bear for one of your disadvantaged upbringing. However—'' Tru grinned, all teeth, ''since you're headed off to meet your old grampa, I don't think you've acquired too much of it to dampen your fun. Now, excuse me, I've got a couple of holes to fill in on a very big jigsaw puzzle.''
''The cab is at the door,'' Nelly reported.
''Well, Jack, you and me.''
''And me,'' Tommy added.
''I thought you wanted out.''
''Hey, a guy's got the right to at least say what's smart, even if he doesn't have the smarts to do what's smart. Okay?''
So, a half hour later they paid off the cabby at the door of the Longknife Towers. They'd had to pass through three checkpoints to get that far. Their IDs had gotten them past the first two, but only Kris's not insignificant holdings of Nuu Enterprises preferred stock had gotten them past the last.
The tower was really two skyscrapers linked at the bottom by food courts and other services for those who lived and worked there. Kris had heard that her grandfather had not been out of this building for ten years. She knew that was bum data; Grandpa regularly inspected his plants in orbit. Still, he moved at odd hours and kept his whereabouts as hard to follow as any spy. Kris had previously put that down to eccentricity and old age. Of late, she suspected the eccentricity might be responsible for that old age.
Under an information sign was a guard station with camera monitors and a half-dozen men in matching green blazers. One rose with a smile and a ''May I help you,'' as Kris led the men through the automatic door.
Kris ignored both the smile and offered help and quick marched for the bank of elevators. Several were open; Kris picked the far one. Marching in, she took station in the middle of it, leaving Jack and Tommy to arrange themselves to each side and behind her. ''Floor two-four-two,'' she ordered.
''Thank you, ma'am,'' the elevator answered.
The guard was now running to get to the closing elevator. The doors quit closing.
''Your order has been overridden,'' Nelly said.
''Override the override,'' Kris ordered. The doors finished closing a second before a rather startled guard would have lost an arm. Kris turned to check out how her men were taking matters. Tommy's eyes were not quite as large as when he was introduced to the pipes up close and personal. Jack seemed nonplussed as he removed his badge and ID from the pocket of his running shorts and palmed it for ready use. Good.