“Maybe that’s what it needs—just accepting the facts and not trying to go beyond them. They don’t have religion either. That’s another thing about us that fascinates them. Krossig says Hyadeans could never have come up with anything like that. But they see a lot of what we think is science as being not very different. We get wrapped up in our own inventions and then convince ourselves that what we see is really out there.”
Neville Baxter sauntered by, telling a joke to a petite blonde in blue who was clinging to his arm and looking appreciative. “. . . and God said, `It doesn’t cost anything. It’s free.’ So Moses said, `I’ll take ten!’ ” He nudged Cade in passing, as if to say, See, even fuddy-duddy, middle-age-spreading New Zealanders can make out okay too.
The group that included Norman Schnyder had got onto the subject of Terran industries folding because of cheap Hyadean imports, and the increasingly militant political opposition movement. “I’ve never understood why we need those markets,” one of the Hyadeans commented, maybe trying to be diplomatic.
“Oh, I’d have thought it’s obvious,” Schnyder said. “To earn currency here that can be reinvested in land. That’s where the big payoffs are going to be. Industrial trading is just the key to the door.”
“Isn’t that what the guerrilla war in South America is all about . . . ?” Anita Lloyd began, then faltered as she realized it wasn’t a good topic to bring up in polite Terran-Hyadean company. Cade rescued her by stepping closer and moving things along.
“You’re bound to have clashes when different kinds of people meet, and there’s change. But it always works out better for everyone in the long run. The hotheads will get hurt, but they bring it on themselves. There’s nothing you can do.” He smiled as Julia came over with a fresh drink for him, and slid an arm around her waist. “The woman I used to be married to was a hothead like that,” he told the group. “Not accepting change; thinking she could stop it. Well, she’s not here anymore, and all of us are. That should say something.” He wasn’t quite sure himself what it should say, he realized; but it sounded good.
Damien Philps, the arts and crafts dealer that Cade had mentioned to Schnyder earlier, was listening to Erya, the Hyadean educationist who was on her way back to Chryse, marveling at the powers of human creativity. Vrel and Dee were with them along with Wyvex, a colleague of Vrel’s from the mission, who was currently collecting information on Terran art forms to satisfy the interest being generated back home. He was tall, even for a Hyadean, and had dark rust hair with orange streaks, cropped fairly short to a central point. Hair styling was one of the few modes of personal expression that Hyadeans seemed to permit themselves—maybe as a consequence of the wide natural variations of colors and textures. Although attired in the unvarying Hyadean gray tunic, he had made the virtually unheard-of concession of adorning it with a badge sewn on the breast pocket, showing a colorful Navajo design, proclaiming his newfound specialty on Earth. Apparently, it had never occurred to Hyadeans to ornament clothing and other objects for no other reason than pure aesthetics. The practice had begun catching on lately on Chryse, putting research like Wyvex’s in great demand.
“Erya has discovered Terran classical composers,” Vrel told Cade. “She’s started learning the violin and wants to set up a music school on Chryse when she gets back. Do you know any teachers who’d be interested in emigrating?”
“I’m sure I could find a few,” Cade answered.
“Ode is causing a sensation there,” Erya said.
“So I heard.” Ode to Joy was an exported Warner movie about the life of Beethoven. Cade thought for a moment. “How soon will you be going back?” he asked Erya.
“I’ll be in LA for a week. Then flying down to Brazil a day before launch. Why?”
Cade’s eyes twinkled, as if he were stretching out something suspenseful. “How would you like one of the actual violins used in the movie as a present to take with you?” he asked. He knew someone in Hollywood who he figured could probably swing it.