''She has a certain logic, Jack,'' Abby agreed.
''Tilly's twerp factor is getting lower and lower on my baloney meter,'' Jack said, glancing at his watch. ''Maybe it's not too late for me to make my first shift.''
''Let's find out what Grampa Ray wants first. Never can tell, it might cover room and board.''
3
''Your Highness, you are expected,'' the security agent said as Kris presented herself at the door of Grampa Ray's penthouse suite. ''Jack, I thought you were on leave?'' he added as the agent's name apparently came up right after Kris's.
''So did I. You can never tell when you work around Longknifes, can you?''
''So true,'' the agent agreed.
''I'll just find a nice magazine to read,'' Abby said, heading for a chair in the waiting room.
''She's going in, too,'' Kris said. ''Abby Nightengale.''
''You are on the list,'' the agent said.
''Me?'' Abby said, bringing up a startled hand for a dramatic wave at her throat. ''A lowly body servant?''
''Disarming her may take a half hour,'' Jack drawled.
''You wrong me!'' Abby pouted.
''My orders aren't to disarm any of you,'' the agent said, with a touch more relief than Kris would have expected.
Jack's frown was solid professional disapproval.
''His Highness said that if he was willing to have her carry all that artillery around Princess Kris, it would be damn undignified of him to demand we frisk her for his old bones,'' the agent said in defense. ''Now, you are to go right in.''
''What artillery?'' the maid protested.
Jack seemed still undecided. ''Sound's like Grampa,'' Kris said. Behind her, the elevator opened to disgorge Penny and Tom.
''Good,'' the agent said. ''The party's complete.''
''I've never been so grateful to be beeped in my life,'' Penny said, breathless.
''And if it hadn't been Grampa Ray, Mother would have had you ignore it,'' Kris said to Penny.
Tom frowned. ''You know, I think she might have.''
''His Majesty is in his study. Your computers will show you the way,'' the agent said, taking his seat behind his desk.
Nelly told them to go right, go left, through that door. The suite had taken on more than the usual hotel furnishings. One room was shelves from floor to ceiling covered with replicas of the ships, armored suits, and ground vehicles of the Iteeche Wars, backed up with paintings of battle scenes. There were also pictures of staffs, both those who survived their battles and those who died to a man and woman trying to stem the tide. Kris wondered if Grampa normally kept a room like this in his home, or if he'd put this up to impress his visitors now that he was back in politics. Or to remind himself.
She'd have to decide whether to ask Grampa about that.
The final room Nelly directed them into was a workroom, with some bookshelves for real bound books, but mostly screens for net news reports or private news outlets. A large wooden desk was piled high with flimsies and readers. In front of it several couches and chairs formed a conversation circle around a table that might or might not be simply wood. Grampa Ray wore slacks and a short-sleeved shirt. He looked all of his hundred and twenty years, maybe more, as he eyed a reporter on one screen. The man was replaced by scenes from the Naval yard at the station orbiting above their head. The fleet was in port, but supply trucks were moving. A lot of ships were going someplace.
Grampa scowled, silenced the screen, and turned toward them. By the time he faced Kris, he was smiling and seemed fifty years younger. ''Thanks for dropping everything to make an old man happy,'' he said, waving them at the couches and coming around his desk to take a comfortable chair in their circle.
''Depends on what you want,'' Kris said, settling into the chair across from him. Penny and Tom got comfortable on a couch. Abby took the couch across from them. Jack chose to stand behind Kris, facing two of the three doors. He must hate that he couldn't keep an eye on all three.
No, Kris spotted a reflection of the third door in a blank screen. Jack had managed to get an eyeball on all three.
There were few things Kris would not happily give her Grampa. However, if he'd hauled her up here to talk to her about not causing Father trouble during this election, or not exposing Grampa Al for the slumlord he was, she and Grampa Ray were gonna have their first go at head butting.
''Most of the time, I forget how old I am. Then I get a message like this, and I remember,'' Grampa Ray said, his fingers tapping the one reader he'd brought with him from the desk.
''Back in the first Iteeche dustup, before we realized what a mess we were in, back when I was just a general fighting what I thought was a bunch of pirates, I had a detachment of special ops that were, well, too damn good for their own good.
''Hikila was a new planet. It didn't have a lot of troopers, but the Special Boats Squadron made up in imagination and cussedness what they lacked in numbers. They were good. And I used them. Used them up. It's amazing that any lived to send me an invitation to their bedside at this late date.'' He snorted.
''But Queen Ha'iku'lani is the kind of woman that fifty men will die for so she can die in bed. I wonder what she thinks now of that kind of real estate business,'' he said to himself.
Kris felt embarrassed to be let into such an intimate moment. She wanted to look away. Tom and Penny were. Abby was.
Kris couldn't. She was a Longknife. If she followed in the footsteps of her great-grandfather, a hundred years from now she'd be muttering such questions. Did she want to? Wouldn't now be a good time to head for the door?
The king shivered, glanced around as if just noticing the others, and gave them a wan smile. ''Sorry. If things were a bit quieter, I'd take a week off and go hold an old war buddy's hand, help her get ready to meet the ghosts waiting for us on the other side. Any decent world would make such a duty the highest priority for old farts like me.'' He flashed Kris a smile that was only sad around the edges.
''But someone I know and love talked me into putting back on the old battle harness, so just now, Wardhaven's got a caretaker government that doesn't know how to spell the word much less follow those limits. And I hear that Boynton has a fleet of undetermined origins headed their way with no declared intent. And the latest rumor I'm getting from this temporary Wardhaven government is that all or part of the fleet may sail for Boynton real soon now. It doesn't sound like a good time for me to take leave. What do you think, hon?''
Kris swallowed something that might have been a lump in her throat. She hadn't thought of things like this when she'd urged her Grampa to accept the kingship of now ninety planets. She'd seen the honor, somewhat ambiguous and indefinite, but an honor, nevertheless. And a way to help the people on ninety planets keep afloat amid the wreckage of the Society of Humanity. Maybe she hadn't looked at it from his angle as carefully as she should have. She certainly hadn't spotted the downside that it would stick her with this princess thing. She was learning that lots of things happened while she was making her plans.
''I guess you'll have to stay here,'' Kris said.
''Which means I need to send someone in my stead to help an old friend die,'' Grampa said, his eyes going out of focus. ''There will be more to it. Hikila has developed quite an economy in the last fifty years. It needs to come into United Sentients. They haven't voted yet. The coronation of their new queen would be a good time to make that call.''
Kris nodded. ''I'll do what I can to bring them in.''
''Hopefully without all the complications that sprang up on Turantic. I hear some insurance companies are going to court over who pays for repairs to the space station and elevator.''
Kris tried to grin. ''Oh, for the good old days, Grampa, when all you had to do was kick butt and take names. Now you have to file legal briefs and testify under oath for a week.''