''What happens when two evenly matched countries go to war?''
Vicky seemed to puzzle over that one for a while, then glanced at her captain.
''When two nations of nearly equal strength resort to war to resolve their differences, it is usually a disaster for both,'' the Greenfeld officer said. ''The war is long, bitter, and indecisive. Neither side can win, but neither side will give up. Generations may perish in the fight. Nations' treasures may waste away, and nothing is proven. Is that what you are alluding to, Your Highness?''
''That is what the wiser heads in my father's high command tell me when I get angry at the deaths.''
''That is what the wiser heads in our command councils say,'' Captain Krätz said. ''So far, they have prevailed.''
''Why are you telling her this?'' Vicky asked her captain.
''You could just as easily ask her the same.''
Vicky turned to Kris, her eyes questioning.
Kris shrugged. ''Two plus two is four. A war between ninety planets and a hundred will be a bleeding ulcer. Neither of these facts can be made a state secret. Only a fool would try. I'm not asking your captain how many battleships are building on Greenfeld. He's not asking me about Wardhaven or Pitts Hope. He has his guess, I have mine. We probably aren't off by more than two or three. But none of that really is worth the time of day. Let me ask you something I'd really like to know,'' Kris said, turning to the captain.
''I have four armed security men to my back. I assume you will not ask me to commit treason within their hearing,'' he said through a broad smile.
''I will assume they have no better sense of humor than my Marine escorts do,'' Kris said. There were chuckles from both groups of guards.
Kris waited as the salad arrived, unfolded a napkin in defense of her disgusting evening dress, and picked up a fork. The others did likewise, but waited when Kris paused before spearing a bit of her Caesar salad.
''Why are you here?'' Kris asked Vicky.
''I was drafted and ordered to the
As Kris so often did, Vicky had given her an answer, but only the tip of one. Kris wondered if that was all of the answer Vicky really knew.
''Georg,'' Kris said, staking a regal right to a familiarity that a junior officer of her rank had no call on. ''How many Greenfeld naval officers have as great a love of daughters as you have?''
The captain had started to frown at the familiarity. After all, he was trying to break one trillionaire daughter to junior-officer status and needed Kris to help, not hinder. But now he smiled.
''I don't think there's a captain in the fleet who's resigned himself to enjoying, maybe I should say, surviving, feminine surroundings as much as I have.''
''Your oldest,'' Kris went on. ''She should have graduated from college by now. Did she join the Navy?''
Now it was the captain's turn to ruefully shake his head. ''Commissioned in the Nursing Corps on her graduation day.''
''Is she on the
''I would have gladly had her here, but there is a boy.''
''Isn't there always?'' Kris interjected.
''Sad to say, yes. He comes from a good family, and he is on a battleship. So she asked for orders to that battleship.''
''Do you trust him?''
The look Kris got from the captain was a puzzle she could not fathom. He almost smiled as he started again. ''I will let you in on a state secret, Longknife girl. In Greenfeld, a loyal wife, be she wealthy or poor, will take nine months to present her husband with a fit little baby. However, blushing brides, in their eagerness, almost always do it in six or seven months. Strange that, no.''
The security guards behind the captain relaxed into their seats. Kris had no doubt that had the captain begun to reveal a more technical detail, they would have dragged him away. But from the smirks on their faces, a few of them might well be married and already beneficiaries of that bridal miracle.
''And your daughter?''
''Has been courted for almost six months and is still on active duty.''
Kris's confused frown at that brought a dry ''Get pregnant, get discharged'' from Vicky.
''How medieval,'' Kris said.
''I mentioned that to my father,'' Vicky said, her voice desert dry. ''Let's say we agreed to disagree. Thank God I know where to get birth control.''
''Not on my ship you don't,'' her captain said.
The ensign wisely filled her mouth with her salad.
Kris stepped in to redirect the conversation. ''When I asked why you are here, Vicky, I didn't mean in the Navy. What I was really asking was why you aren't back on Greenfeld. You cost your father a lot when he sent you to Eden, and I doubt your stay in the Navy will be any less expensive.'' The way Captain Krätz rolled his eyes cut Kris's doubt by half. ''But what I really wonder, girl to girl, is why you aren't tending to your knitting quietly back home?''
