WHO ARE THE REST AROUND HER?
Nelly started to identify several men and women, then paused. THE WOMAN IN THE WHITE GOWN IS NOT TRANSMITTING.
Kris glanced at the woman, but at just that moment, she disappeared behind a tall man in formal black. Social graces usually required people in public meetings to broadcast their minimum bio. It was similar to the IFF that warcraft had used for centuries. And often the topic of battle jokes. It was not unforgivable for someone to ''throttle their squawker.'' Some people were shy, others just preferred their privacy. Still, in an evening intended for meet and greet, going quiet was…interesting.
Ms. Broadmore offered Kris her hand. ''So glad you could come. I understand they have this and that to keep you busy at the embassy during the day. I'm so happy you could make it.''
''This isn't my first social event,'' Kris pointed out.
''Yes, I heard you had to leave Marta's little get-together early yesterday. Don't you just hate events thrown at a rented hall. It's so easy for them to go to pieces at the slightest happenstance.''
Kris allowed a slight nod. Apparently Ms. Broadmore didn't know what had happened last night or didn't care. Several muscular young men in easy orbit of her looked like they would apply all the caring their patron did not.
Ms. Broadmore introduced Kris to others that stood eagerly about. Since their names and offered bios matched what Nelly knew, Kris left it to her computer to remind her if and when she needed them.
It was the redhead in the white gown that kept snagging Kris's attention. Never center stage, she was always there in the corner of Kris's eye. She would turn or move a hand at just the right moment to draw Kris attention away from whomever she was talking to. It was…bothersome.
Finally, Ms. Broadmore took two quick steps and reached for the hand of the unidentified woman. ''And have you met my other special guest of the evening. You must know her. Your family and hers are a pair, are you not? But I understand that you have been a bit of a cosmopolitan, and she's been given a sheltered upbringing. This is her first trip into civilized space.''
Ms. Broadmore inserted a theatrical pause, and Kris could feel every collar or lapel camera in range clicking away. Kris gritted her teeth and hoped this would not go on much longer.
Apparently their hostess had had fun enough, with a predatory smile she finished. ''Kristine Longknife, have you met Victoria Smythe-Peterwald?''
10
Kris had known intense moments in battles to cause it, that heightening of awareness that let you take everything in but no time seemed to pass. How often had Kris joked about her social life being like a battle?
Now she had battle awareness right in the middle of the ballroom floor.
Victoria Smythe-Peterwald looked so much like her brother. The same flashing blue eyes, perfect skin, rigid set of jaw. The white dress was skimpy up top, barely covering a set of boobs Kris would kill for. Original equipment or after-sale add-ons? No way to tell. Vicky was supposed to be totally natural, no genetic engineering, due to a slip up in her birth.
Hank was a totally engineered product, implanted in the womb. Vicky was a natural blowby that should have never made it to birth…but here she was.
Those cold blue eyes were full of raw determination. No, this woman would not be easily dismissed.
The gown looked painted on. It flowed over more curves than the law should allow. Men were going to be easily distracted around this woman. Pity them, Kris decided. At the floor, a flair of faux fur covered her feet. Maybe they were too big?
Even as Kris took in the outer display of the woman, she also checked the backup. Three alert men and a woman looked to be clearly in Victoria's orbit.
At least we're even there. While Vicky's weren't Marines, Kris suspected they'd make up in pure viciousness what they lacked in honor and field craft.
Outside the bubble of Kris and Vicky, beyond their guards, the room fell quiet, grew expectant. So we're Ms. Broadmore's floor show. Let's not keep the paying customers waiting.
Kris extended her hand. ''I am glad to make your acquaintance'' seemed like a good, neutral start.
Vicky took Kris's hand in a surprisingly strong grip. Like some men, she then tried to twist it, put her hand on top, Kris's on bottom. Kris was not about to send submissive signals. Her hand stayed where she had it, thumb up, little finger down. Kris could feel her knuckles going white. Vicky's dainty pale hand went pink.
It was Victoria who broke the shake.
Vicky spat, ''You killed my brother.'' So much for chitchat.
''I really don't think I did,'' Kris said, as matter-of-factly as she could. ''His brand-new cruiser was blasting away at my ship. I admit I returned the favor as well as my eighty-year-old command could. It was his choice to start shooting.''
''What, and leave you with all that alien technology you'd stumbled upon? Let you Longknifes make a fortune and cut the rest of us out?'' Vicky could teach a cobra how to spit.
''I told Hank before he started shooting that he was rattling off a pipe dream. No way my family could hog all that. Or would want to. Look at what is going on as we speak. Half the universities in human space have staff in those two systems. Most every major and a whole lot of minor corporations are trying to figure out what they have. ‘Trying,' being the operative word. Last I heard, they don't know squat. You heard differently?''
''That doesn't change the fact. You shot up a Greenfeld ship and my brother died.''
How much of the woman's anger was that Kris had ''shot up a Greenfeld ship,'' and how much was because her ''brother died''? And I thought my family had interesting dynamics.
Kris shook her head. ''He should have lived through that battle.'' Then she added, ''I did.''
''Count your days, Longknife. Count your days.''
Even as Kris snapped back the first thing that came to her mouth, she knew it was a mistake. ''They'll be long and happy if you don't send anyone better than the ones you hired last night.''
Oops, that lovely pale skin, milk white to begin with, was now showing red from—was that a nipple peeking out—to her cheeks. So, Vicky, you have a temper to go with that red hair. Better learn to control it, girl.
''That was none of my doing. Some junior employee's idea of a welcoming present for his boss's daughter. He's no longer in our employ. He's paid for his mistake.''
Kris tried to gauge whether that last comment referred to losing his job or something worse. Kris wouldn't bet the poor fellow was still breathing. Now don't get all sympathetic for the guy who tried to kill you last night, a small voice in the back of Kris's head warned her.
But in my line of work, you got to love the ones that miss, the imp in Kris shot back to her more cautious self.
''I suspect I'll be seeing you around,'' Kris said, as offhandedly as she could manage and turned her back on the second deadliest woman in the room.
In the end, Vicky could spit her venom all she wanted. It was Kris who had been there, done that, and buried way too many of both the good and the bad.
''That was educational,'' Jack whispered at her side.
''I hope Ms. Broadmore enjoyed the show,'' Kris whispered back. ''Nelly, we will not be accepting any more of Ms. Broadmore's invitations. The ambassador can hang himself before I'll make another trip to this snake pit.''
But Kris could not—would not—cut and run. And the senior representative of Nuu Enterprises on Eden was right there, with his wife, ready to glom on to Kris's elbow. They exchanged chat about the weather…it was going to get hotter as spring turned into summer. That was comforting news. He also deftly guided her around several business associates whom he said she might find interesting.