Deserter by Mike Shepherd Read Free Book Online

wardrobe.”
    “So you’re spending my money.”
    “You really should spend a bit on things that matter rather than frivolous things like your personal computer.”
    “Nelly saved my life today, and a boat full of shipmates. Nelly is nothing frivolous.”
    “Your mother’s words, not mine.”
    “If you want to survive around me, you’ll learn not to quote my mother.”
    “So I noticed. Now sit down; your hair needs washing.”
    “I washed it this morning.”
    “I daresay you got it wet. Have you ever heard of conditioner? You know, that stuff that smells good.” Kris found herself maneuvered into a chair beside an oversize washbasin. Before she could react, Abby had her hair sopping wet and was massaging in something that smelled like strawberries. Hair washing had never been so sensuous when Kris did it herself. By the time Abby was drying Kris’s hair, she was almost willing to admit this Earth woman might be worth whatever Mother was paying.
    Settled at the dressing table, Kris eyed her mail. The heavy box was from Grampa Al. Kris ignored it, strongly suspecting it held a first production sample of Uni-plex. The envelope was more intriguing. Its return address was Earth. “This must be for you,” she told Abby.
    “It’s addressed to Ensign Longknife,” Jack said from the door where he and Harvey were waiting expectantly.
    Kris pulled her robe tighter around herself and swiveled the chair to face them. “So what is it?”
    “We don’t know. Will you open it, woman?” Harvey snapped.
    So Kris did. But a look inside didn’t tell her that much. She poured the contents out on her dressing table, next to Nelly. The men came to peer over her shoulder.
    Harvey was the first to grasp what they saw. He let out a low whistle. “Is that what I think it is?”
    Abby picked up a heavy gold and jewel-encrusted pendant. “One of my employers,” she whispered, “was very proud of her ancestor who died in the Iteeche Wars. This hung in her living room beside a portrait of her great-grandmother. It’s the highest award Earth can give, the Order of the Wounded Lion.”
    “It’s awfully big for a medal,” Kris said, puzzled.
    “You don’t wear the Order like other medals, young woman,” Harvey reproved her. “This sunburst goes on your uniform breast pocket, or for really formal occasions, you wear the sash and use the medal to clasp the sash at the waist. Don’t they teach you junior officers anything these days?” He grinned.
    “Nope.” Kris grinned back. “We JOs pretty much waste all our time on engineering, battle tactics, and similar trivia,” she said, examining the gold medallion. The highest award Earth could give. Wow. And when was the last time it was mailed out in a brown wrapper? Damn it, I worked just as hard to earn this bauble as anyone who got it hung on them in a rose garden. Will everything I do good be swept under the rug because I’m one of those Longknifes? But Lordy, if I screw up . . .
    “What did you do to earn this?” Abby asked.
    “If I told you, then Jack truly would have to shoot you,” Kris deadpanned. To Kris’s surprise, Jack nodded.
    Abby frowned briefly at the put-off, but picked up the blue sash and took it to a cream dress hanging against one wall of the dressing room. Unlike the monstrosities Mother chose, this one was of a conservative cut: strapless, pulled tight at the waist before flowing out smoothly to floor length. While the “in” fashion might range from shapeless sacks to damn near naked, this was always appropriate. “You can wear the sash over the shoulder,” Abby said, “and pin it here, under the opposite arm so that it flows smoothly across you. I think that would be best,” the Earth woman told Kris. The men nodded agreement.
    Kris sighed. Like a large blue arrow, it would point straight at the empty space in the dress where most women had breasts. “I will be wearing my uniform tonight.”
    Abby frowned at the corner that held the items