Kris was not announced; Chance was too egalitarian for that. Still, heads turned in a spreading wave as word raced through the hall. The campaigner in Kris put attendance at about two thousand. The blue dress uniforms of a hundred Greenfeld officers were bunched protectively in six clumps Kris suspected represented ships. Whether or not there was safety in numbers, there surely was comfort.
While she and Jack came down the steps to the main floor, Kris spotted a large congregation of locals in full dinner dress around Hank and his captains. The locals' heads joined the general turn toward her. Hank ignored her.
No doubt, he did not appreciate the drop in attention. Into the silence he said, ''Greenfeld will have no truck with royalty and the tax burden it adds.'' It might have been better argued by someone who didn't so obviously hold his present position by birth. Maybe Kris should have worn her Navy uniform to better show the balance between hard won and easily given.
No, the reaction she was getting as a princess, from Hank, from that little girl, and from about everyone in this hall was well worth the extra weight of the tiara on her head and the delightful pleasure of satin swishing around her legs. Yes, tonight was definitely worth putting on stockings.
As per Father's early-taught instructions, Kris tried to circulate quickly, passing from one group to another with only a few words spoken or a quick smile. The men in black tuxes or white dinner jackets, the women in dresses as colorful and light as Kris's wouldn't let her. Many had fathers or grandmothers, younger brothers, kid sisters, or older sons and daughters of their own working on Kris's station or the Patton. Everyone on Chance seemed to be related or know someone working in Station Security or the Museum or something topside. Kris thanked them for the assist and that seemed enough of a toll for her to be passed on to the next small knot.
Shortly, one of the young ladies in formal tails and white bow tie appeared at Kris's elbow with a glass of soda water and a suggestion that dinner was ready to be served if ''Her Majesty would kindly take the seat prepared for her.'' Kris saved the girl from a mortal case of embarrassment by not pointing out that only King Ray merited the ''Majesty''… she was just a ''Highness''.
The room followed her move to their chairs. Hank was slow at getting the word, or maybe he intended for his six officers to be the last ones standing. Kris did note that they were eating at tables as far from hers as physically possible without knocking out a wall. Kris also noted that Ron personally escorted Hank to his table. Kris's unbidden question as to who might be Ron's date for tonight was answered as his mother took the seat next to him. Poor Ron. Then again… lucky Kris. Or was Marta in cahoots with her son on seeing that he had nothing on his mind but Hank? Or maybe Hank and Kris?
It would be so nice if I could read that woman's mind, Kris thought… and turned to her dinner partners and prepared for the usual table banter that passed for warfare by other means.
To Kris's great surprise, she was not immediately asked what Grampa Ray was up to or for the latest rumors about the ongoing Constitutional Convention still talking to itself on Pitts Hope.
No, the man next to Kris was the owner of a machine shop and foundry. ''You're employing some of my best workers, don't you know, Your Highness.''
''Then I much appreciate your loan,'' Kris said.
''I may need them back real soon. A consortium of us is bidding to build a Kawanashi plant to fabricate the larger sections for fusion reactors. We lost a similar bid with GE just a few months ago. They chose Turantic for their new Rim plant.''
''Seems Turantic was considered a better bet than us, or safer,'' another man around the table added with a scowl.
Kris nodded, but declined to point out that Turantic had just joined Grampa Ray's United Sentients and was now recovering from a rather lengthy financial slump.
''Anyway,'' the first man went on, ''the Rim is growing and we need fusion reactors. Chance has a highly trained and competitive workforce. We're a growing population, over a hundred million now,'' he said, and smiled lovingly at his wife.
She patted the swelling roundness of her stomach. ''A hundred million and one next month,'' she told the table, and received happy, encouraging noises in return.
''Then we want to make sure that your…'' Kris paused.
''Daughter,'' she provided.
''Has the same chances that her mother and father had.''
Several men nodded and glanced across the ballroom to where Hank was talking loud enough to be heard above the soft roar of the room. Dinner talk continued in that local vein, them telling her why she should love Chance, her occasionally highlighting the present question before them. There was only one break from that when the woman to Jack's left spoke.
She'd been silent the entire dinner, not talking to her partner or to Jack. Her own dessert untouched when most were finished, she turned to Kris and said simply, ''Why are you here?''
The question was so out of step with the rest of the evening that Kris faltered for a moment and said the first thing that came into her head. ''I was invited to dinner.''
''Not here tonight,'' the woman said, tapping the table. Her hand shot up to point a finger at the ceiling. ''Here, on Chance. Out on the Rim. Despite what Ted says, we aren't that big a market, yet. Why send a Longknife? And that's before we go into what you did on Turantic and Wardhaven's recent battle and all that other stuff. What war are you supposed to start?''
''Ginjer, that is out of line. May I apologize for my wife,'' the man next to her said, half rising from his seat and placing a hand on his wife's elbow to move her in the same direction.
''No, no,'' Kris said with a dry chuckle. ''She has probably just asked the question on half the minds in this room. Wouldn't you like to hear my answer?'' Ginjer's husband seemed torn between excusing himself or settling back into his seat. The other men around the table looked uniformly embarrassed.
The pregnant mother rubbed the top of her extra curve very protectively and said, ''Yes, I would like to know what war you are here to start.''
''Alice!''
''So would you, Theodore. Shut up and let the woman tell us something. We can decide later how close it is to the truth.''
Now Kris did laugh, ''Candor is something I encounter so rarely, it's a joy to run into it twice on the same night,'' Kris offered in explanation for her mirth. She reached for her napkin, patted her mouth, then mused out loud.
''Why am I here? What war will I start?'' Kris frowned. ''You know that I have only two officers, a chief and my maid with me. Kind of slim pickings for starting a good-size war.''
''Weren't most of them with you on Turantic?'' Theodore, who still grated at that planet's winning of the GE plant showed that he did, indeed, know a bit about what went on there.
''I went to Turantic to break a friend loose from a guy who kidnapped him. And then I found myself running for my life. The rest just kind of happened. I went to Hikila to hold the hand of one of Grampa Ray's old war buddies who was dying. Somebody kidnapped several hundred people, started killing them. By now you've probably figured out I don't like kidnappers. Some of you may know why.'' Around the table there were nods.
''Wardhaven? Well, like Chance is your home, Wardhaven is mine and I fought to defend it. So did a lot of other folks who had other plans that particular week.'' Kris knew her face was hard, but she didn't know how to talk about that battle in a soft way. She shivered at the memory of faces she'd never see again.
''You want to know why I'm here?'' Kris said, turning a face as open and honest as she knew how to wear toward Ginjer. ''I'm here because I've gotten in a lot of people's hair and they want me as far away from their hairdo as they can get me. This may come as a surprise to you folks born and raised here, but in the Wardhaven Navy, Chance duty is not a plum assignment.''