Kris looked up the street. A fight was just being broken up by the armbands. Here and there men, hardly more than boys, emptied their stomachs into gutters, bushes, whatever. Not a view to make you proud of your fighting men.
The next beergarten, the Happy Bavarian, held the senior petty officers. That only men manned the taps showed they were only marginally better behaved than the seamen on the street.
Gassy was headed their way, a bespeckled man in a rumpled suit at his elbow. ''Thought you might want to meet Pinky here.''
''Harvey Pinkerton,'' the man said. ''I own the only remote-controlled observer system in Last Chance.''
''You of the Pinkerton Security Family?'' Jack asked.
''Doubt it. Family story is that great-great however-many was shuffled off Earth in lieu of prison. I don't work for Gassy if there's just some enterprising young fellow involved in an exchange of property,'' the guy said with a grin at Gassy, who seemed to be studiously looking elsewhere. ''Mostly I track wandering husband's, wives, teenagers. Not that Ron wants you to know his wonderful Chance has those oh so normal human problems.''
''Pinky, show her what Gasçon told me about,'' Ron said dryly.
Pinky handed Kris the oversize reader he carried. It showed an aerial view of the Oktoberfest. He tapped it and it zoomed down. ''Gassy told me there's some ringers circulating among these fun-loving sailor boys. Wondered if I could spot them.''
''They're just sailors like the rest. But a bit older.''
''There's two of them now. They usually travel in pairs.''
Kris eyed the screen. White uniformed sailors filled most of the enlarged picture. But two were in gray sailor suits.
''Something go wrong in their wash?'' Jack asked.
''Spider silk doesn't look at all like cotton when you catch it in the right light spectrum.''
''Spider silk,'' Kris said with a growing frown. ''Somebody's not willing to take chances with the rest of the poor dumb sheep they're setting up for a fall.''
''Looks that way,'' Gassy said. ''Anyway, we've isolated ten pair of off-white sailors and we'll take them out of circulation come eleven thirty. Well give them a ride to the airport in our very own paddy wagons and see that they are on the first liberty launches down the runway.'' He flicked his eyebrows up twice. ''The smelliest ones.''
''Kris, I think we better get gone.''
''Jack, I agree. Ron, I want to thank you for showing a girl a great time,‘'' Kris said, giving the mayor a kiss on the cheek.
''I thought you said I showed you a great time,'' Jack said in wounded male pride.
''You did, but this is the best time I've had that didn't involve wrecking a space station.''
Ron gave Kris a hug and a kiss of his own, and it wasn't on the cheek. ''Someday I really want to read about your love life.''
''Oh, now you've got tar on your formal duds. What are you going to tell your mom?''
‘''That things like that happen if she's ever to get those grandkids she keeps talking about. You two take care. Steve, don't you wrap your father's best rig around a tree or anything.''
''Tough job that fellow has,'' Jack said as they left.
''About as tough as yours, I imagine.''
''He keeps track of a city. All I have to handle is you.''
Kris shrugged. ''As I said. About even.''
The ride up the station was a problem. The passengers sniffed the air around Kris. One pointed out, ''After you toss a caber you're supposed to change clothes and take a bath before mixing in proper company.'' But the vote was twenty-three to twenty-two to let their princess share their ride. This really was Chance, where everyone knew everything. And someone had told Abby. She greeted Kris at the door of her quarters with a scowl.
''Do I space that dress with you in it?''
To help Abby decide, Kris started unzipping out of it. Jack had decided that Kris's safety tonight just might require him to unfasten the top hook and work the zipper down to where Kris could reach it. ''What I do to keep you alive.''
Out of the dress, Kris handed it to Abby. ''I guess you might as well space it.''
Abby made a grab for Kris's hand. ''And look at these. You broke two, no three, nails and how are we ever going to get that tar out from under your fingernails.''
''I'm sure you'll enjoy doing it and it will involve hurting me a whole bunch,'' Kris said. She slipped into a shipsuit and ducked over to the Command Center. Penny was there with Steve.
''The chief get away?''
''Yep,'' Penny said. ''Beni went off with a couple of thirsty types from the Resolute to keep him company.''
''May keep him out of trouble. Anything happen up here?''
''Not a thing. All ships quiet as a church,'' Penny said. The board showed Hank's Incredible, as well as Fury, Dominant, Fearless, Surprise, Eager. Traditional names, but in this collection, Kris wondered if they were hinting at anything.
''Wonder which ships belong to which captains?'' Kris said.
''We should have had a reply to my priority search request. Don't know what's taking them so long.''
''Abby didn't space you?'' Steve grinned.
''I think I may be escaping a well-deserved fate.''
''Throwing the caber in a silk party dress,'' Penny said.
''My skirt wasn't any longer than the kilt on old Douglas.''
That didn't stop the heads from wagging. But it did let Kris get a good eight hours' sleep.
Chapter 13
''You know they caught you on camera last night?'' was the first thing Kris heard in the Command Center next morning.
''I hope they got my right side. The left usually breaks the camera,'' Kris drawled.
Chief Ramirez headed the watch this morning. She nodded toward a monitor that was carrying an early news show. Yep, there she was, raising the caber over her head, the top of her strapless gown seeming to offer a most embarrassing shot any second now. Kris held her breath as the gown failed to keep its promise. The news didn't cut away until the crowd cheered as she did her curtsey. ''And later, she did toss the caber,'' the anchorwoman said. ''That's not your normal princess, but then she's a Longknife, and this is Chance. Good going gal.''
''That how most people are taking it?'' Kris asked, pouring coffee and waiting to see if PR damage control must precede chow.
''Yep,'' the old chief said. ''I'm headed for breakfast at the waffle shop. Nothing's happening here. You want to come along?''
''Things that quiet?''
The chief's grin actually sparkled. ''The fun was earlier. They docked their own liberty boats, didn't go through the shuttle bay, so we didn't get to see the wreckage. Can't tell you how glad I am of that. Gassy let us watch the dirtside half of the disaster. Thank God smellies never caught on.''
They arrived as the waffle shop opened. Kris entered to applause and did a redux of her curtsey. Just as she ordered a bran muffin and juice, sailors started pouring up the stairs from the two piers she had a line of sight on and forming into ranks.
''We being invaded?'' someone asked.
''I thought they did that yesterday,'' another one said. ''Can't they come up with anything but reruns today?''
Nelly, are those sailors armed?
No weapons in view. Which didn't really answer the question.
Kris and the chief excused themselves from their waiter and stepped outside, then slowlike, moseyed upstation for a better look. ''Nelly, anything change?''
''Still no weapons visible.''
''What's on their feet?'' Chief Ramirez asked.
''Athletic shoes,'' Nelly reported.
''PT this early after last night,'' the chief said with an evil grin. ''Somebody up there is after my own heart, vicious to the core.'' Someone barked an order and calisthenics commenced. Soon, sailors were falling out of ranks, some heaving their guts.