The Typhoon was bleeding sewage into the reactors before she fell in formation with the old cruiser. No sooner was a fuel line passed than Tom was tapping Kris's elbow. ''We got a coded message coming in.''
Kris ran the number groups through the decoder. It didn't seem all that secret to her. She tapped her commlink. ''The Typhoon, Hurricane, and Scirocco are ordered to rendezvous with the battleship Magnificent still in orbit around Paris 8. All personnel suspected of being involved in the attack conspiracy will be transferred to the Magnificent and returned to Wardhaven under guard. All other officers are ordered to the Magnificent for debriefing and TDY to Wardhaven as material witnesses. The corvettes will draw new officers on temporary assignment to get them back to High Cambria.''
That left the crew in a happy mood. Tommy eyed Kris when she didn't join in the smiles. ''Anything in there about you?''
''Yes. Ensign Kris Longknife is detached from the Typhoon, with orders to report to Wardhaven,''
''Detached?''
Kris knew they couldn't very well make her captain of the Typhoon, but to yank her off of it like this? She tried to look at the bright side. ''At least I'm not under guard.''
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Kris paused at the top of the stairs. It was early morning; the sun shone through the crystal chandelier in the foyer of Nuu House sending tiny rainbows dancing on the spiral of black and white tiles below. On early mornings like this, a much younger Kris and Eddy had tried to catch the rainbows, hoping for the promised pot of gold. Was she any closer now to finding the end of her rainbow? A deep sigh drew in the smell of memories and morning, breakfast and wood…and the inevitable hint of electronics. Such was a grown woman's world.
The Magnificent had docked late last night; Kris and Tom were two of the few who left her. As expected, Harvey was waiting for Kris at the elevator exit. Surprisingly, two messages had quickly come in to Nelly.
''So you made it back alive.—Al,'' was Grandfather's cryptic response, which also included Kris among the few people allowed to call him Al. The note from Mother had simply said, ''We are expecting you for supper tomorrow.'' So, at least the family was not distancing itself from their mutineer.
As on a long ago morning, Grampa Trouble was downstairs. Today, Kris stood stiff in starched undress whites; Grampa Trouble wore civilian clothes. He stood with his back to Kris, talking with Grampa Ray. His voice low, his hands flew wildly as he remonstrated with the former president. Ray shook his head. He'd been shaking it since Kris first spotted him; he kept right on shaking it. Then he noticed her.
His eyes took on a sparkle, and his mouth morphed from frown to smile in the second he took to look up. Trouble paused his argument in mid-hand wave, turned to see what Ray was beaming at, and did his own version of proud great-grandfather. ''Have we told you lately what a fine young woman you've turned out to be, Ensign?'' Trouble smiled proudly.
Kris started down the stairs, feeling the scratch of the starched uniform on the back of her legs. ''What got you two up so early?'' she asked in a soft voice that filled the vast space.
''Meetings!'' Ray spat. ''You?''
''Another session with my inquisitor. He asks me the same questions. I give him the same answers. He likes oh eight hundred meetings.''
''I survived that inquisition a few times,'' Ray assured her. ''You will, too.''
Kris nodded; she'd faced rifle fire and heavy lasers. Why worry about a little talk with an intelligence weenie? Or supper with Mother and Father, for that matter. Somehow tonight didn't hold nearly the terror it once had.
''What are you two doing for lunch?''
They exchanged a look. ''I am not going to lunch with that bunch,'' Ray snorted.
''Before Kris shipped off last time,'' Trouble said, ''she wanted to ask us a few questions.''
''Questions?'' Ray raised an eyebrow.
''One of my skippers, not Thorpe, said that if I intended to be another one of those damn Longknifes that I better get a solid handle on just what damn Longknifes really did and how they survived doing it. How come an autopsy showed a bomb went off in someone's face, but the bomber walked away?''
''Oh,'' Ray said, glancing at Trouble, who only raised an eyebrow in reply. Ray shook his head ruefully. ''Should have known you'd be asking that one. Okay, Kris, tell you what, if you survive your little morning talk, and if I don't get lynched by the mob old Trouble here has matched me up with, we'll meet around ten-thirty for an early lunch.''
''Ten-thirty!'' Trouble protested. ''That bunch of longwinded yappers and yammerers will just be getting started.''
Ray gave Trouble a wide-mouthed, full-toothed grin. ''Who do you want to spend time with, them or her?''
Trouble snorted. ''Her.''
The three of them turned for the door. Outside, Harvey had brought Kris's car around, but a huge black limo was ahead of him. A marine in Savannah greens held the door open for the two senior officers. Grampa Ray boarded the land dreadnought as if it were carrying him to a funeral…his own.
Kris headed for her car. Harvey was behind the wheel; Jack rode shotgun. Neither made a move to open her door. With one of Grampa Trouble's trademark shrugs, Kris opened her own door and slid into the backseat. She waved a hand at the monster ahead of them. ''What's a gal got to do to get service like that?''
''Save the world a couple of dozen times,'' Jack grinned. ''Until then, exercise is good for you.''
Kris licked her finger, then drew three lines in the air. ''Three down. How many to go?''
''Too many,'' Harvey grumbled and put the car in gear. ''You know, an old grandfather like me could get used to a world that was nice and quiet. Maybe even boring. It's kind of pleasant for an old fart to have the kids come home every night.''
Kris frowned a question at Jack. ''His youngest grandson has a date with a recruiter for a swearing in this afternoon,'' Kris's Secret Service agent explained. ''After whatever it was at Paris system, Wardhaven is expanding the Army and Navy.''
Kris opened her mouth to say something to her old friend, then closed it. He'd cheered her when she joined up, but your adopted kid was one thing; the baby of your own flesh was another. She searched for words…and discarded I'm sorry, I'm glad for you, and I hope he'll be a great soldier. I hope he'll come home after two very boring years almost made it of out her mouth. ''I'm sure you raised him right,'' Kris finally said.
''Yeah. Maybe too damn right.'' The driver checked his board, then turned to face Kris straight on. ''Is all this messing around going to be worth it to us who just want to do our jobs and come home at night to enjoy our kids and grandkids?''
''I don't know what you heard about the Paris situation,'' Kris started slowly.
''Not much,'' Jack interrupted. ''The media feed was cut off rather suddenly,'' he said, leaving Kris to suspect her agent knew a bit more than her driver. Once upon a time, she thought Harvey knew everything. The times were changing, leaving Kris sadder for it.
''Yeah,'' Harvey said. ''We went a whole day without news. Longest news blackout ever. Then the cameras come back on, and the generals and admirals are smiling and spacers are guzzling beer. So why is your pa asking parliament to double the defense appropriation and my baby to give up a good job to be a spacer?''