''Abby showed me a better place for it. Don't want to be dancing with a guy and him patting my hold-out gun.''
''Especially Hank,'' Penny said.
''Please let me know before you start shooting.''
''I will, Jack. I know it's embarrassing when I get the best of the bad guys and you get left with the second string,'' she said through a smile.
''It's not fair to say things like that when we're coming up on our target and I have to smile,'' he growled through his smile.
''I'm sure you'll get even,'' Kris said.
They took the escalator down to the landing. Penny crossed the brow first, saluting the Officer of the Deck, then the flag painted on the left wall of the quarterdeck. Jack followed, doing the same. Kris, playing regal to the hilt, and not being in uniform, crossed the gangplank, and presented her hand to the OOD to kiss. Apparently, this was not covered in the young lieutenant's brief, but, what with Kris's hand almost smacking him in the mouth, he got the idea that maybe he should kiss it.
Shamelessly, Kris used that effort, once begun, to get him into chasing her hand lower until he was half bowing. Nice to know that Greenfeld sailors are educable, Kris thought through a most Noble smile.
''Your commodore offered us the benefit of his barge for a ride down to the party. Are you going to show us the way?''
''That is my honor and duty,'' said a calm, low voice. Kris turned to find herself facing an older Naval officer in formal blues, four strips on his sleeve. His trim mustache was gray, as were enough of the hairs at his temple to give him a most distinguished appearance. Kris offered her hand, he bowed very professionally and kissed it. ''I am Captain Merv Slovo, of the Incredible. Commodore Smythe-Peterwald's flagship.''
''Is Hank styling himself that formally these days,'' Kris asked, airy as any debutante.
''His father is the President of over ninety planets. Some formality does seem apropos.''
Kris did not argue the planet count and introduced Penny. The woman followed Kris's lead; rather than saluting her senior, she offered her hand. Captain Slovo did it honor, but his bow brought his eyes level with the young lieutenant's medals, and Kris noticed that the captain's nostrils flared as he read the service record of the woman before him.
This was something Kris found very intriguing about the Navy Way. She'd learned early to have Nelly subscribe to Who's Who on Wardhaven, and then expanded it to Who's Who in All Human Space. Politicians, scientists, civilians in general, could be found quickly, and their stories revealed for the thoughtful application of a young girl politician-in-training.
The Navy Way was different. It was all out there on the chest to observe and mark. And, if appropriate, be warned by.
Take Captain Slovo. The Good Conduct Medal with four oak-leaf clusters on it was in his long row of miniature medals. It was proof not only of his good and faithful service but told Kris that he had completed twenty years active duty but had not been retired. His other medals included a Meritorious Service Award for his performance, likely in a staff billet. There was also a Distinguished Service Award, probably for a previous command. He sported an unusual ribbon for a Greenfeld sailor. Most of their ships stayed close to port; he wore the space-dark ribbon with the four white stars that identified one who'd made a four-month cruise. Oh, and his sharpshooter medal said he was highly qualified with five individual or crew-served weapons.
Kris double-checked that row of medals against the latest update Nelly had found on net. No, he had not been involved in any of the officially recognized Defense Campaigns that Peterwald had declared following some of his more heavy-handed acquisitions. Unless Captain Slovo was holding back on Kris, he was not a veteran of the more egregious blood and thunder bits of Greenfeld gunboat diplomacy.
While Kris was evaluating the man in front of Penny, he was doing the same to Kris's subordinate. Penny had the usual ''Beer Swilling and Party Games medal'' that had been awarded to all who attended the formal and final hauling down of the flag of the Society of Humanity at the Paris system. She also wore the Turantic Medical Expedition and the generic Naval Expeditionary Medal for the assistance she and others had provided Hikila during its recent terrorist outbreak. What was unusual, at least for the Turantic Medal, was that it also showed a V for valor. While others had just gone to Turantic to deliver medical supplies and reestablish communications, Penny had earned hers the hard way—in a fight.
Proudly in last place was the Wardhaven Defense Medal. There was no V authorized for that medal. No one earned it who wasn't on the line—fighting for their life.
At the other end of Penny's medals, in pride of place, was the Meritorious Service Award. She'd probably earned that for her inquisition of Kris's shipmates on the Typhoon, something that still irked Kris. But Tommy had asked her not to hold it against Penny. ''She was only doing her job.'' And falling in love with Tommy… and Tommy with her.
So Kris forgave her that. Still, it burned Kris. All the scrapes she'd pulled herself and Wardhaven out of and all she got were the basic ribbons for being there. Being the Prime Minister's daughter and the King's great-granddaughter was not turning out to be all that the fairy tales promised.
Captain Slovo finished his assessment of Penny and turned to Jack. They exchanged salutes. Jack's ''tourist'' credentials were the same as Penny's, though his started at Turantic. The two men's eyes got that hard look around the edges that two men often get when they're making the determination as to who the Alpha male is in this dog run… and not at all sure how to call it.
They broke eye contact so close to the same time that only Nelly could have determined the winner.
''May I offer you an arm,'' the captain said to Kris. ''The commodore's barge is this way.'' All so civil. All so proper. Kris took the offered arm and let him lead her. Jack and Penny trailed them. Despite all the ancient trappings of warriors and killers, tonight we party. Who knows what we'll do to each other tomorrow. But tonight, we drink, and dance, and ignore the obvious. Like hell we do, Kris reminded herself.
Captain Slovo led her through his ship with clear pride of ownership. In an elevator taking them down, he turned to Kris. ''Is that the Earth Order of the Wounded Lion you are wearing?''
''It is,'' Kris agreed.
''Little girls don't often find them in a box of cracker jacks?''
''I'm not aware that any little girl ever has.''
''No,'' he said, ''No, they have not. So, there must be quite a story behind it. There always is, I'm told.''
''Yes,'' Kris agreed, but gave no story.
The pause grew long. ''You're not going to tell me.''
''Certainly you've been briefed on me.''
The captain adjusted the tight collar of his shirt as the elevator came to a halt. ''Actually, I have no brief on you at all. We left Greenfeld space a month ago and have been paying calls on Confederacy planets since. Four, five, one loses count,'' he fibbed. And Kris found herself suppressing a frown. Why are you telling me this? Was he trying merely to pass the time, or was this his excuse for the blundering around the station? Or was he letting her know that he and his commodore were having to make this up as they went along? Hmm.
Kris reviewed the whole of his statement and chose to respond to his first remark. ''Well, your commodore has surely shared his experiences of me with you,'' Kris said as they walked across the shuttle bay. Around her, files of sailors and Marines in dress uniforms were loading aboard liberty launches, but the area around the barge was clear of activity.
''He has said a few words, nothing of major import.'' The captain's serious face suddenly took on a puzzled smile. ''He is rather definite that you and your associates are not to be allowed near the bridge of any of our ships or the controls of any of our craft. No explanation. Leaves me wondering.''