Deserter by Mike Shepherd Read Free Book Online Page B

as Kris left the stairs behind her. Harvey brought a monster limo to the front drive. Abby helped Kris arrange her skirt in the backseat.
    Harvey got the limo on autopilot, then turned to take in Kris. “That sash does brighten up a dull outfit,” he drawled. “By the way, can a Wardhaven officer wear an Earth order?”
    “Oh my gosh!” Kris was learning a Princess did not use the S word in public and should practice not using it in private. She reached to unpin the sash.
    “I checked.” Harvey grinned. “Earth, being an ally of Wardhaven . . . in some small thanks to whatever you did or didn’t do at the Paris system . . . their orders are authorized.”
    “Harvey, you could have told me that in the first place!”
    “Yes, but then we’d have missed that look on your face.”
    “What look?”
    “Oh, part shock, part dismay, part ‘Oh my God, I’ve screwed up again!’ It’s very becoming on you.”
    “I did not think I’d screwed up again.” Kris settled for appealing only one of the three charges from her oldest friend.
     
The ball failed to match the excitement of its preparation. Kris passed the usual chatter with the usual suspects. Didn’t these people have day jobs to tire them out? Her older brother Honovi was at Father’s right hand, like a good junior member of Parliament, understudying the master. Since there was no immediate political need to paper over their feelings about her career choice, Kris and the Prime Minister ignored each other.
    Mother could not be ignored.
    “What do you think of Abby?” was the woman’s opening gambit.
    Kris took a step back and opened her arms to show off her uniform. “I only fired her twice as she was getting me ready.”
    “You can’t fire her. I’m paying for her. I had hoped she would at least put you in something presentable.”
    “That would require firing her three times in one night.”
    “And I was so looking forward to her dressing you in something that would remove my daughter from the top of the fashion police’s ten-worst-dressed list.” Mother sighed.
    “Have your fashion policia send me the citation, Mother. I’ll file it among my dust bunnies.” Kris moved along as Mother launched into a diatribe to the woman on her right.
    Grampa Ray made the required appearance and was mobbed by both favor seekers and eligible matrons looking to end his long years of widowerhood. Nothing like the chance to be Queen of eighty planets to gather every social climber within light-years. A few were presently married but clearly willing to trade up. King Ray made his way through the bejeweled crowd as a jungle scout might pass through a trove of bothersome flies. But he noticed who he wanted, and that included Kris. He raised an eyebrow at the sash and medallion.
    “Accessories make the outfit,” Kris said. Fashion gossips might ignore the Wounded Lion; people like Grampa knew better.
    “Earth is grateful you saved their bacon.” Grampa Ray grinned. “And their battle fleet,” he added with one of his tight, warm smiles that anyone would risk their life for.
    “There really wasn’t another option,” Kris said. Her eyes suddenly watery, she settled them on the deeply carpeted floor.
    “Been in that horrible position myself a few times,” King Raymond answered. “Lousy situations to be in. But the survivors make for nice company.” Kris was halfway home before she lost the glow from that moment.
    “Kris,” Nelly said, “I have a collect call. I think you should accept it.”
    “Who is it?” Kris quit taking collect calls early in her high school years. It was amazing the people who wanted to talk to a Longknife and expected her to pay for the privilege.
    “A Miss Pasley is calling from the starship Bellerophon .”
    “ Bellerophon ? Should I know that ship?”
    “It is a tramp, mixed cargo and passengers. Tommy took passage on it, you may recall.”
    Kris had forgotten. “I accept the charges.” A system voice told Kris she would