Sometime during that spiel, Penny had come in. She took her spot at the table. Police Lieutenant Martinez took a chair along the wall.
Kris found herself standing alone in a terrible silence. A quick glance around the table showed a clear majority. No, a vast majority for the captain's proposal.
Kris would have to avoid putting it to a vote.
She chose to break the tension with a laugh. All she managed was a tiny one, but it was a laugh, and it drew quizzical looks from her audience.
''Sorry, but you see every time I get into one of these deadly messes, everybody wants me to go away. Get out of the line of fire. Captain, you planning on coming along with me?''
''No ma'am.''
''You going to load the whole Marine company on the Panda with me?''
''Definitely not.''
''So, dangerous as it may be, you're going to do your job?''
''Yes, ma'am.''
No surprise to Kris, none of the Marine techs or support staff in the Tac Center seemed at all bothered by that. A couple of them sported wolfish grins at the prospects.
''So, what is my job?'' Kris asked.
''Buy paper clips and other odds and ends,'' Abby drawled.
''Yeah, right,'' Kris drawled right back.
Kris paused for a moment to let that work its way through thick skulls, like Jack's and DeVar's. ''King Ray sent me here for a reason. That reason had nothing to do with paper clips. But as is Ray Longknife's bad habit, he didn't tell me what the real reason was, did he, Penny?''
''He never does,'' the intel officer said.
''He never does,'' Kris reinforced for the slow thinkers at the table. ''He has a Longknife-size problem so he sends a Longknife out to solve it, but old Ray never does bother to let me know anything.''
''One revolution, one Longknife,'' Gramma Ruth said dryly. ''Even odds.''
''That, my friends, is one of the bad things I'm discovering about being a Longknife. Doesn't make it into the history books, but it's a fact, big as any in the books. Any of you doubt it?''
No one said a word.
''Okay, so let's see. Anyone here really think King Ray sent me here to grab the first ship out at the first peep of trouble?''
The people around the table glanced at one another. Kris locked eyes with Captain DeVar. The Marine blinked first.
''I felt obliged to offer that out, Your Highness.''
''Understandable,'' Kris said. ''Gramma Ruth, you want to be on that boat?''
''Oh, my, no. I'm not quite as spry as I used to be, but I think the old girl has a few more good days in her.''
''Have you kept your reserve commission on the shelf?''
''No way, honey. It's active,'' the old gal said with a proud grin. ''At my age, they don't seem to think it matters whether it's active or inactive. You'd think that my dear Terrence would have shown them the error of their ways.''
''Commander?'' Kris asked.
''At your service,'' the Iteeche vet said with a slight bow.
''So that's settled,'' Kris said, eyeing DeVar.
He replied with a grin and a nod.
''Okay, it's agreed who will be doing something to someone. Before we go on to how we will be doing it, let's follow the captain's well-ordered process and examine if we should be doing anything at all,'' Kris said.
That got puzzled looks around the table.
''Clearly that wasn't the most logical thing I've ever said, so let's take a second try. I can develop a cold. We could slash the tires on the ambassador's limo. Simply put, there is no reason to involve Wardhaven in what is about to go down on Eden.
''Yes, I believe a Peterwald is at the bottom of this, but my proof hangs on Vicky showing up at the right time. This Grant von Schrader has managed to do whatever it is he's doing without any visible ties back to Henry Peterwald.
''So, Police Lieutenant Martinez,'' Kris said, turning to the local man. ''Are you briefed on what we think is going down?''
''Penny told me. And call me Juan.''
''Thank you, Juan. Do you have any objections to someone massacring these politicians you aren't permitted to vote for?''
The man stayed in his seat, quiet for a long minute, then he stood. ''They tell us we are second-class citizens. We cannot vote. We cannot run for elected office,'' he said, raising his right hand and looking searchingly at the palm.
''Yet''—now his left hand came up—''I am a police officer, sworn to protect this government I cannot elect. I, and my father before me, found this kind of funny.
''But we didn't laugh. The ones we did laugh at were those who had the vote and sat out elections. Now there be fools.''
He let his hands fall to his sides. ''My grandfather used to say that you are only powerless if you say you are. If you accept that you are.''
Juan pursed his lips, then went on. ''They say that people like me cannot run for office or vote for anyone. Yet we often decide who will be on the ballot.''
Kris raised an eyebrow at that. Juan grinned.
''I know a big man. Big, empty man. He sees himself in the senate someday. But there are five of us cops who have busted him for driving drunk. Five times the fool got behind the wheel and endangered those on the road. If he tries to run, I will talk quietly to one of the small media outlets that cater to me and my people. They will publish a story. A story that will be too hot not to be picked up by the mainstreams. And that man's expectations of high political office will vanish like the wind.
''They are right. I cannot run or elect my government. But I can keep someone out of the government. There is power in that.
''Are the men someone has condemned to death mine? Maybe not, but at least they are not theirs. So, Princess Kristine, in the name of all of us who have no voice, may I ask you to shout for us, even at the risk of your life.''
Juan paused, then an evil smile swept his face. ''And who knows? Maybe this time there will be enough reports. Enough reporters with balls, to tell what actually happens. Maybe some reporter standing around will get the story straight.'' He paused. ''But nothing must risk the security of what you do.''
''Security must be kept,'' Kris growled. ''Surprise is all we have going for us.''
''So, Princess, what will you have me do? Stay here where I can only listen to you, or let me go to find enough honest cops to back you up when you need it?''
''Juan, what do you have in mind?''
The man laughed at the joy of the question. ''First, there is that warehouse full of arms. The cops guarding it could hardly hold it against a determined assault.''
''That is something Gramma Ruth worries about,'' Kris said.
''Then let me get a few of my friends there. Maybe arm themselves from what they are protecting. That should turn an easily plucked pomegranate into a prickly cactus.
''And if I can get enough men rotated through that warehouse, I may have something like a SWAT team. I've read about them in the literature. It would be nice to have one. We cops do not like that the security hacks have all the automatic weapons and we walk beats with just a revolver or nightstick. I can show this government many eager young men ready to fight for it. And who deserve something better from it.''
''Captain,'' Kris said, ''you mind releasing the lieutenant?''
''Unity of command is something we're supposed to strive for, but it looks to me like if we keep Juan here, he might not be able to round up a command. Good luck, Lieutenant. Hopefully, we'll see you when we need you.''
''Penny told me that we may not be able to count on our communications when time comes.''
''Somebody does seem to have a very good jammer,'' Kris said.
''Then my caballeros may have to ride for the sound of the guns.'' The lieutenant tossed the captain a salute and left.
''Gramma, were things this bad fighting the Iteeche? I know the history books make it—''
''You know where you can stuff the history books,'' Ruth interrupted. ''Kris, I'm afraid it never gets better. Only worse.''
Kris walked over to the map of the National Gallery of the Arts. ''So, how do we defend this thing?''