''Nothing, Father. Remember,'' Kris pointed at her shoulder tabs. ''I'm Navy. We stay out of politics.''
''Like hell they do. These charges leveled against you—''
''Will be handled quickly and promptly.''
''No they won't, Sis.''
''Why not?'' Her brother had Kris's undivided attention. Well, almost. From the open door to the Rose Parlor on Kris's left she was catching snatches of conversation. The word wedding kept coming up. Mother was doing most of the talking, but Kris thought she heard Tommy or Penny's voice occasionally trying to get a syllable in edgewise.
''You have a message,'' her brother said, ''from the Navy Judge Advocate General listing the charges and telling you that your initial hearing has been delayed two weeks.''
''What!'' Tired, hungry, mad, Kris barely suppressed a shout. But then she didn't know who to shout at: her brother for opening her mail or the Navy for slowing down her tribulations.
Or Mother insisting Penny must have eight bridesmaids. ''Nothing less will do. It simply will not do,'' Mother said with a theatrical flair that would grate chalk off a board.
''I'm sorry,'' Honovi said. ''The letter came to the house, and I felt I'd better open it.''
''You see,'' Father said, talking over his son, ''they're playing you into the election news cycle. They'll hang you out there, day after day, attacking me through you. There's nothing for you to do but resign from the Navy and come work for us.''
''No!'' And this time Kris did shout. She used the voice her DIs had taught her at OCS. Her ''no'' carried through the house, reverberating off walls that still echoed with years of history.
Then Kris took the two extra steps that put her in the door of the Rose Parlor and repeated, ''No.''
''Mother, you are not taking over Penny and Tom's wedding.'' She spun back to face her father. ''And Father, I am not one of your political hangers-on that you can order about. I've got my own career, and I will do what I have to do to keep it.''
Having made her position clear, Kris listened for a very long minute while Mother and Father told her how wrong she was. Kris had little argument with her father. No doubt, this was probably the most important election since Wardhaven freed itself from the yoke of the Unity thugs eighty years ago with the help of Grampa Ray's assassination of President Urm.
Oh yes, that lie again.
However, she failed to see that she had any role in this massive political theater of his. As for Mother, even when she attempted to tie a major spring wedding ''in the garden where King Ray and Rita wed'' to the election as worth a hundred thousand votes, Kris still refused to budge. Then Mother played what she thought was her trump.
''How can you expect me to stand idle while there are preparations to be made for a wedding in my own home.''
''Your. Home.'' Kris spat. Kris had had Nuu House to herself since she moved out of the Prime Minister's official residency to go to college. Father had immediately converted her bedroom to office space for two new deputy under assistants for something or other. Mother hadn't seemed to notice at all.
''Yes, Sis. We kind of had to leave the residency in a hurry last night. The Pandoris insisted on moving in this morning. We didn't bother your suites, but we did move back in.''
The idea of living under the same roof with Mother, Father, and God bless her poor brother and his new wife was not something Kris needed to think about.
''I'm moving out.''
''You can't,'' Father and Mother said together.
''Where to?'' Abby, Kris's maid of four months, asked. Kris hadn't noticed the tall, severely dressed woman at the foot of the stairs. Jack, who might take a bullet for her but wouldn't get between her and her father, had gravitated over to stand beside her.
''I can and I will move out. I am a grown woman and a commissioned Naval officer. I can afford my own apartment.''
Father just snorted at the idea. Mother raised her nose in the air. ''Where would you find anything appropriate to your station on such short notice?''
Wrong question, Kris thought.
Kris had gotten an education when she recently rescued Tom from kidnappers on Turantic. It wasn't Tommy's fault; he'd been taken as bait to trap Kris. But busting him loose had involved a walk down the seamier underside of Turantic, leaving Kris with questions about whether Wardhaven had some places just as ugly … just as empty of hope. Home, she did a search. It was easy; she just looked for the places where Father never sent her to campaign.
Yes, Wardhaven had its slums, and a diligent search by Nelly through ownership records, and records of who owned those who owned the ones who owned the ones who… Anyway, several layers of deniability up from the poor sods who collected the rent, Kris found Grampa Al and her own trust fund getting wealthy on way too many of them. She fired off a letter, with plenty of attachments, to Grampa Al, asking him to look into this. And got no reply.
What better time than now to do something about it.
''I'm sure there are several vacant apartments in Edgertown that I could rent today.''
''Edgertown,'' Mother huffed.
''Why would you rent something there?'' Father asked, his eyebrows coming together like two woolly caterpillars, unsure whether to fight or mate.
''Because we own them, Father. Or rather, your father owns them, through the necessary intermediaries to avoid embarrassing questions.''
''Kris, this is not a good time to think about doing something like that,'' Brother said.
''Who's thinking? As soon as I can call a cab, I'm out of here.''
Jack stepped forward. ''I'll drive you, Kris.''
''Young man, I forbid it,'' said Father.
''Sir, I don't work for you. Even when you are Prime Minister, I'm under civil service rules.''
Kris would not bet her career that such rules would hold when the full cyclone of her father's anger stormed down on them.
''Besides,'' the vacationing agent said, ''your daughter seems quite intent on going apartment hunting on the wrong side of town. Wouldn't you want someone with my credentials''—here he opened his coat, giving everyone a flash of his service automatic—''seeing that she gets out okay?''
''We are not finished, young woman,'' her father stormed, but Kris had done a fast about-face and was headed for the door, Jack and Abby hurrying to catch up.
Outside, Kris took two quick steps and found that her knees were again filing for nonsupport. She collapsed on the stone steps she'd sat on after school so many years ago. Then, she'd used them as an excuse not to go in, not to face her mother and father. Now she sat there recovering from them. No difference.
''You hungry?'' Jack asked.
''Starved.''
''Let's get some decent food into you while I find a well-armored car that doesn't look the part.''
Kris glanced down at herself. Her shipsuit looked like she'd sweated through an attack on a battleship, slept through a bad night in a brig, and survived a family get-together of the worst kind. ''You don't mind being near me?''
''Wasn't planning on getting closer than ten feet, and that upwind,'' Jack said. ''Remember, I'm on vacation. Any bullets that have a date with you today, it's just you and them, kid.''
''Thanks for the reminder,'' Kris said and looked up at Abby. ''And why are you going with me?''
''You're headed into hoods like where I grew up, girl, and you gonna need someone who knows the way things hang. If you don't want to end up hanging upside down. You get my meaning?''
As usual where her maid was concerned, Kris was none too sure exactly what the woman's meaning was. That it usually worked out for the best was the sole reason Kris shrugged and said, ''Fine.''
''Which also explains why Momma Abby took a few moments when she heard you were coming home to put together a survival kit for her chick.'' With a flourish, Abby opened what for her was a purse totally out of character, huge … with multicolored stripes. A glance in showed Kris a powder blue sweater and brown slacks … and a body stocking.