''Armored?''
''Why wear one if it ain't, baby ducks.''
''Do you wear armored underwear?'' Jack asked.
''I do better than that, love. I lead a nice quiet life of desperation, one that no one would want to end violently.'' Her smile for Jack almost looked honest.
Jack's personal car got them to the Scriptorum, one of Kris's old college haunts. By the time they'd eaten and Abby had helped her do a quick cleanup and change, Jack had wrestled up a car.
Abby got wide-eyed as she took in the wreck. ''You're driving a beater into my hood. You're risking the princess here having to thumb her way out when this thing goes white belly up in the middle of the road.''
''Abby, you're not the only one who wears your camouflage well. Get in. By the way, Miss Nightengale, my latest request to redo the background check on you just came back from Earth.''
Jack took the driver's seat, Abby the backseat across from him, leaving Kris to open her own door. Kris was used to her princess status going less than far where these two were concerned. After all, she'd been promoted from Prime Minister's brat to princess less than a year ago, and it was more often a nuisance than a help. Well, it had helped a bit on Turantic.
But Abby's background. That tickled Kris's curiosity. ''What did it say?''
''Nothing. Perfect support for what she said about herself. Not even the tiniest hole in her résumé.''
''Well, I should expect so,'' Abby sniffed, arranging the fall of her severe gray skirt just so. Kris wondered how much heavy weaponry it hid today.
''Perfect match. Too perfect for even the guys doing the background search. They say they'll do more checking. I got the impression that you intrigue them. You want to be their hobby?''
''No,'' Abby huffed. ''I am what I am. Doesn't a poor working girl have the right to some privacy?''
''Yes,'' Jack said, ''once you tell me who you're working for.''
''Kris's mother hired me.''
''And I suspect she's firing you as we talk,'' Kris said. ''Mother was probably so looking forward to having me around to torture for the next six weeks. She will not be happy if you help me get out from under her thumb, knee, and elbow.''
''Well, honey, getting you dressed to go apartment shopping is a long way from seeing you sign on the dotted line. No offense, Your Princessship, but you aren't serious about moving into a slum, are you?''
''She's serious,'' Jack said. ''You want to have Nelly pass me some addresses for places to look at?''
''Nelly, do what Jack asked.''
''All of them. I'm not sure this bomb can handle the half of them.'' Kris took in her ride; it looked bad. The seat covers were slashed where they weren't worn through. She fingered a cut place in the leather. Nope, not cut. Painted on. She eyed the dashboard; under all that dust was solid-looking electronics.
''Nelly, interrogate the car's computer.''
''Interro… wow. Now that is one smart computer. Jack, where did you get this car?'' Nelly asked.
Which left Kris out of the loop and a bit annoyed that her pet computer was going straight from finding out what they were riding in to asking Jack all kinds of questions. Questions Kris would much rather be asking herself.
''Friend of mine, retired from the force, runs a jack-up service to up-gun, up-armor, up-tight the usual suspects. But he keeps a few ringers for special folks. Stakeouts, other stuff.''
''Nice to have decent wheels,'' Abby said, unimpressed. ''Baby cakes, you better tell Nelly to sort the vacant apartments by pairs. Your maid's gonna have to live next door to you.''
''She does not.''
''She does, too, Princess, for at least two reasons. One, I don't want to have to walk the streets after staying up late to undress you after you come back from some fine ball all gussied up. Two, you're going to need someone close by to pull your hind end out of the trouble you're going to get it into when you're lost and doing everything wrong in my side of town.''
''Jack,'' Kris said, for what she immediately realized was no good reason. Still, he ought to give her some support.
''Nelly, do a search for triple vacancies.''
''Triple!'' came from both women in the back.
''I do not need to be nursemaided. I've been shot at. I know how to shoot back,'' Kris snapped.
''Wrong attitude,'' Abby said. ''You expecting to be shot at, you gonna be shot at. You smile, make friends with the folks down the hall, on the floor below, then you got folks to help you out, young woman.''
''It looks like the folks down the hall and down the stairs are going to be folks I know. Jack, what are you trying to do? You don't have to be next door to me. You don't work for me.''
''I should say not,'' he snapped.
''In fact, Jack, you're not going to have a job for too much longer if Father doesn't win. Maybe even if he does.''
''So a cheap flat becomes kind of appealing,'' he said. ''Nelly, what have you got?''
''Well, here are some triple vacancies. I don't know that they are all that good of an idea, but they should do while you people sort out all these human issues. Kris, you will make sure that I am not stolen or damaged.'' Nelly sounded worried.
''Maybe, maybe not,'' Kris said. Nelly said nothing back.
The first place was a fourth-floor walk-up in need of cleaning, painting, plumbing repairs, and the services of several kinds of exterminators. The second place was worse. Jack parked in front of the third; it looked no better from the outside. He turned to Kris; she could read in his eyes, You ready to call it quits yet? She glanced at Abby. How long you gonna keep up this harebrained stunt? was all over the woman's face.
''Kris, you have a message from King Raymond,'' Nelly said as Jack's wrist computer buzzed softly. Kris raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.
Jack glanced at his wrist. ''I am requested and required to present myself to King Raymond at my earliest convenience.''
''This happen to you folks often?'' Abby asked. ''I mean, balls is something I can handle. Being yanked around on some fancy electronic chain, having to drop everything and go see the king. You do it every day?''
''Grampa Ray's just a huggy bear,'' Kris said, suspecting whatever her great-grandfather was up to at the moment probably had more in common with the annihilation of Iteeche fleets and policy for the human race than what dessert to serve at tomorrow's charity auction. First a leading General, then the President of the Society of Humanity during the worst of the Iteeche Wars, he'd hammered together the policies that had guided humanity for eighty years afterwards. There were shelves of books full of his exploits … his and Great-grampa Trouble's. Kris had grown up in the shadow of that distant, legendary man.
Only recently had she come to know the man of flesh and blood behind the legend. And she'd helped talk her great-grandfather into taking a crown. Talked him into trying to lasso together Wardhaven and a growing number of planets into an alliance when it seemed like the six hundred planets of human space were intent only on flying apart.
''Wonder what he could be wanting from a disgraced Naval officer who's been relieved of her command,'' Abby asked.
''You have such a wonderful way with words.'' Kris sighed.
''Well, do we look at this next place, or do I head for the palace?'' Jack asked.
''It's just a hotel,'' Kris pointed out.
''Honey,'' Abby sighed, ''if a king lives there, it's a palace, be it ever so hovel. Child, you have to get past this family thing and start seeing the world the way us poor folks do.''
''The palace, Sir John,'' Kris said.
''Jack,'' her driver corrected.
''Listen, if I can still be stuck being a princess after they've hijacked my ship and hauled me off to the brig, shouldn't any unemployed hired gun wandering around with me be at least a knight in shining armor? Remember, Jack, you gave up being an honest working man.''