As Kris led her two officers off to change into undress whites, Doc was heard to suggest to Beni that ''you really do need to apply to OCS.''
At the bottom of the space elevator, Harvey, the family retainer and chauffeur was waiting; he already knew his first stop. His oldest grandkid, a girl who claimed to be old enough to drive and waved a license ''with a horrible picture'' to prove it, was there with a track for the luggage.
''There will be a chief down here soon with twelve self-propelled steamer trunks,'' Kris told her. ''No need to be too easy to find, but don't let him get too panicked.''
Young granddaughter was delighted that she could be a pain to a grownup and it was an order. ''Just remember the point about not being too much of a pain,'' her grandfather reminded her.
Main Navy was just where Kris left it, a hulking monstrosity of concrete and glass. The lair of the Chairman of the Joint Staff was buried deep in it. Kris didn't know when she was expected, but the secretary just waved her in.
Jack pointed at the two chairs in the waiting room, signaled the women that they were theirs, then found a chunk of wall to hold up. Kris opened the door, ready to march in, again, as usual—and came to a dead stop.
Mac was behind his desk, but seated in his visitor's chair was King Raymond the First to most, Grampa to Kris. On Mac's other side was Admiral Crossenshield, the head of Wardhaven's black intelligence efforts. Kris eyed them for a moment… and they returned the favor. No one broke the silence until Kris shook her head ruefully, took a step back out of the office, and said, ''You three, in here with me.''
Kris wasn't sure whether the shock and dismay was worse in the general's office or in his waiting room, but under her best Longknife glare, Jack, Penny, and lastly, Abby made their way where she directed them.
Definitely, her team was double-whammied as they walked in the door and found the full extent of this meeting. Jack's nostrils flared. Penny looked panic-struck and ready to flee, but Abby was too close behind her to give the poor woman any running room. Abby took them in, and looked as determined not to disgrace herself as anyone facing a firing squad.
Then again, the consternation across the room was an interesting study as well. King Ray pursed his lips and nodded his head slowly. Mac looked ready to pull out what hair he had left, but kept his hands on the desk at this latest bit of mutiny from his worst subordinate. Only Crossenshield slowly allowed a smile to creep across his face. Why was Kris not surprised.
In the door, Kris's team bunched up, unsure where to go. Kris headed for the chair at the end of the coffee table that put her facing her king and commanders. Seating herself, she said, ''Jack,'' and waved him to the couch on her right, putting him between her and Crossenshield. Probably for the admiral's protection more than hers. She waved Penny and Abby to the couch on the other side, putting them between her and her great-grandfather. Penny got there first and took the end closer to Kris. Abby, her dark complexion strangely pale, looked around for anywhere else to sit. ''Abby,'' Kris said, and pointed. And the maid went where she was told.
The tableaux now set, Kris settled in to wait for whoever had called this meeting to speak up. She was prepared to wait until someone died of dehydration. Grampa Ray broke the long silence. ''Did you have to kill the Peterwald boy?''
Kris shot back her prepared answer. ''Hank was hell bent on shooting us up. Given a choice of him or me, I chose him. But he'd be alive today if someone hadn't jiggered his survival pod. Any idea who did?'' Kris said, locking eyes with Crossenshield.
''As you said. You've finally found someone more people wanted dead than you,'' he said, misquoting Kris.
''You'd have to have read Abby's report to know I said that.''
''Of course I've read her report. We pay enough for it.''
And if Crossenshield was one of the recipients of Abby's reports, that might tell Kris a lot about many things. ''I want a copy of what you got. Now!'' she demanded.
Crossenshield raised an eyebrow at the tenor of Kris's words, or maybe it was the usual reaction of an admiral to getting an order from a lieutenant. He eyed the king who nodded almost imperceptibly, then raised his wrist, and tapped a few keys on his personal unit.
''Jack, you got it?'' Kris snapped.
''Yes.''
''Check it against what Abby gave me.''
''Doing it,'' Jack said.
''I'm helping,'' Nelly added.
Abby sat primly, eyes on the ceiling, her face that of every innocent three-year-old caught with her hands in the cookie jar.
''No mention of aliens,'' Nelly said only a moment later.
''Aliens!'' came from those around the desk in perfect three part harmony. Kris ignored them and eyed Jack.
He finally glanced up from his unit. ''The words in Crossenshield's version have been randomly modified. The style is more stilted. It reads worse than Abby's original, but it's basically what she gave us.''
''I told you,'' Abby sniffed.
''Any chance I could get your originals from now on?'' Crossenshield asked Abby.
''What's this about aliens?'' Grampa Ray demanded.
''That's why Hank and I were having that fight,'' Kris said, and then filled them in on the new jump points Nelly had identified and what they found at the end of three of them.
''Holy Mother of God,'' Crossenshield whispered.
''I'll tell Alnaba to pack up the Santa Maria Institute and move it to a happier hunting ground,'' Grampa Ray concluded.
''You better tell her to move carefully,'' Jack said. ''That place is armed and dangerous and almost killed us—twice.''
''Maybe I could help you out there,'' Kris offered.
''Don't you think you've done quite enough to that section of the Rim,'' Grampa Ray muttered.
''I've got Nelly's chip. It helped us make this find.''
''Alnaba and Tru got tired of waiting for you to report on whatever you and Nelly were doing and installed a chip in Tru's computer. They can handle this very well themselves.''
No they can't!
Don't say a word, Nelly, Kris quickly thought, before her computer could jump in and start an argument. They'll find out soon enough that they need us.
They sure will, Nelly agreed.
Across from Kris, King Ray, Mac, and Crossenshield seemed to be negotiating in silence the fate of worlds. Mac finally shook his head. ''We better bring Chance into your United thing.''
King Ray nodded.
Kris slowly shook her head. ''Not a good idea. Chance doesn't much care for outsiders telling them what to do. Hank found that out the hard way. Can't we learn from his mistake?''
''We can't leave them out there adrift,'' Mac said.
''Who says they're alone? I figure them to cut a deal with the Helvetica Confederacy.''
''We can't afford to have the gateway to all this new alien technology in Peterwald hands. And after that shoot-out you and Hank had, Harry is going to pull out all the stops pressuring them…'' Mac said, frowning at the star map on the wall.
''I thought we didn't do things like that. Pressuring people,'' Kris said, raising an eyebrow to the King.
''Sometimes you have to make exceptions,'' Grampa Ray muttered, but his eyes stayed locked on hers.
''Will you consider trying something else?'' Kris asked.
''What else is there?'' Mac asked back.
''Use the assets you have. Naval District 41 isn't much but it's there and Chance recognizes our right to it. It's our ante into this game. What say you put a senior admiral in that billet. One who knows how to negotiate. Conciliate. And give him a decent force. Some ships to cooperate with the Helvetic fleet. Work together to secure their peace. Do we gain anything by working at cross purposes with the locals?''
Kris shrugged. ''The last time I checked all we wanted was what the people of Chance and the Confederacy want, for them to live in peace and prosper. Why don't we back them in that, rather than insist they do things our way?''