Admiral Sandy Santiago at Chance had orders waiting for Kris by the time the Wasp docked. Neither Kris nor the admiral felt any rush to comply, so they spent a pleasant morning bringing each other up-to-date on the recent happenings in their lives. Kris found several interesting things in Sandy's report on the comings and goings of her command, Naval District 41, out here on the Rim.
The efforts to crack the newly discovered alien worlds were not going well. No surprise there.
In a similar vein, just about any ship that could hold air were being chartered and sent out to try to duplicate Kris's success at finding new worlds. Other alien worlds. Anything.
That also was no surprise. Before Grampa Ray's Treaty of Wardhaven there had been a similar explosion of discovery.
And humanity stumbled on the Iteeche and had almost been made extinct.
That was something to think about, but Kris begged off of lunch with Sandy and instead dropped down to Last Chance to see a certain Ron Torn.
He invited Kris to dinner at his favorite steakhouse and introduced her to Amelia Blang, the daughter of the new ambassador from the Helvetican Confederacy.
Their wedding was in a week. Could Kris manage to attend?
Kris was pretty sure her heart did not skip a beat. Or at least not too many. And she did remember to breathe.
After only a moment's reflection, Kris found that she must beg off. She had immediate orders that would have her moving on before then.
The next day, the Wasp boosted for Jump Point Alpha at 1.5 g's.
Another good boyfriend lost. At least, on the positive side, this time Kris would not have to add another bridesmaid's dress to her collection.
61
The Wasp made a comfortable 1 g as it covered the distance between Jump Point Beta and High Wardhaven. The entire time, the awaited message scheduling a meeting between Kris et al and General McMorrison and whoever showed up sober never came.
So Kris started planning how she wanted the meeting to go.
''Abby, we've got to get you in uniform,'' Kris said at breakfast.
''Why forever should we?'' Abby said.
''Oh, Auntie, I think you'd look great in uniform,'' Cara said. ''Can I have one, too? Everyone else has one.''
''The captain doesn't,'' Abby pointed out.
''Yes, but he's special.''
Having a twelve-year-old girl at the breakfast table…or dinner table…or just on board was a whole new experience for Kris. Course, at twelve, Kris had spent most of her time drunk. Thank heavens Cara did not have any vices like that.
Still, the girl was twelve.
''Now about that uniform,'' Kris said, trying to wrestle the conversation back where she wanted it…and feeling very much like one of those bull riders she'd seen on South Continent.
''I don't have a uniform,'' Abby pointed out with a sharp edge.
''I could sew you one,'' Nelly tossed out, ever helpful.
''You can sew?'' came from several around the table.
''We have lasers aboard to cut out the cloth if someone will lay it out on a table for me. I can guide the sewing machine if someone works with me.''
''Me, me,'' Cara squealed, raising her hand. ''I've always wanted to sew and we could sew me some clothes. Something like pirates wear.''
''You are evil,'' Abby muttered, scowling daggers Kris's way. And left to find the cloth Nelly claimed the Wasp had in storage.
The Wasp docked with still no word from Main Navy.
Kris decided two could play that game. She assembled her usual suspects. Jack and Abby in khakis, Penny and Kris in undress whites.
Gramma Ruth avoided even being asked by muttering that she'd better go hunt up that rascal Trouble.
They took the beanstalk down, hailed a cab at the station, and made their way unannounced to General McMorrison's office.
''He's expecting you,'' the secretary said without looking up. ''Go right in.''
Which begged the question of exactly who was gaming who.
Kris took three steps into Mac's office, and brought her little parade to a halt: Jack on her right, Penny and Abby on her left.
General Mac was at his desk, making a show of reading something. King Ray in civvies was sitting in the general's visitor's chair, turned around to face not Mac but the arrivals. A huge grin was spreading across his face.
On the other end of Mac's desk, Admiral Crossenshield, Chief of Wardhaven Military Intelligence was digging out his wallet and passing a bill of unidentified value to the king.
''Abby, you're in uniform,'' King Ray beamed.
''A bit faster than one admiral expected,'' Kris said, betting she knew the bet the admiral was paying off.
''Never underestimate my great-granddaughter,'' the king said like any proud grampa.
''The day is coming when you'll wish she wasn't so smart,'' Crossie said, sounding rather cross.
''Yes, like today,'' Kris growled.
''You handled Eden just like I figured you would,'' King Ray said.
''Is that why you didn't give me some help? Like maybe tell me what I was headed into. Give me a chance to think through my options. Maybe get a few less people killed?''
''Is that what's bothering you? For what it's worth, the butcher bill on the Eden op is one of the lowest ever in a major political upheaval.'' The king sounded like he'd done a check of his library, or more likely, of his soul, before he came to this meeting.
''Maybe it is from where you sat,'' Kris snapped. ''But you weren't stuck searching through a darkened, blown-out room to find enough arms and legs to fill a body bag.''
''Is that what's bothering you, kitten?''
''Don't kitten me. I've had it with the way you use people. I quit. Mac, you got a resignation for me to sign?''
The general shuffled through his papers. For the first time in all these counseling sessions, he came up empty. ''No.''
''Well, get one typed up. I will not continue to work this way.''
''Hold it, hold it.'' Now it was Grampa Ray's turn to backpedal. ''It can't be all that bad.''
''You send me out on missions telling me one thing and expecting another. Maybe it was fun at first. Me, a kid, working for the legendary Ray Longknife, but the new wore off in a hurry. I'm burying too many good people for things that might have gone different if I'd known what I was walking into. What I was walking them into. No, Grampa, the good old days are over between us.''
The legendary Ray pursed his lips in thought, then nodded. ''Okay, young woman, what do you want from me?''
Kris was surprised to see the matter coming to a head this fast. But then, Grampa Ray was not known for avoiding conflict.
As a matter of fact, neither was she.
Kris signaled her team to take seats on the couches in front of Mac's desk, and took the chair at the end that left her farthest away from the three she'd come to think of as the dirty trinity.
Everyone seated, if not comfortable, Kris lost no time. ''I want to chose my next job.''
''I still can't find you ship duty like you want,'' Mac pointed out.
''I think I've found my own ship.''
Crossenshield put a hand over his mouth, but it did not hide his smile.
''Yes, Crossie, I want the Wasp, crew and all. I also want the Marine company presently on it.''
''For what?'' Ray asked softly.
''To be the law out past the Rim.''
The trinity exchanged glances. Ray passed the money back to his intel officer.
''You've talked to Sandy?'' Ray said.
''I know that we've got problems beyond the Rim. It's gold rush days and there ain't no law in sight.''
''That's a problem that hasn't gone unnoticed,'' Ray admitted.
''And I want to take the Wasp's guns out there. With my Marines I'd be in a perfect place to kick butts and take names. But not just Marines. I want a legally recognized judge with a broad writ. And researchers. There's a whole lot of unknown out there. Between some scientists and Marines, we should be in a position to tackle just about anything.''