Marie didn’t see herself as a subversive fighting against America. By all the principles she had been told about and grown up believing in, she was fighting for what America was once supposed to have stood for.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE MESSAGE ON CADE’S LAPTOP offered a flat introduction fee plus a 2.5 percent commission on net proceeds if Cade could put the sender’s brokering agency in touch with a Hyadean concern interested in buying Terran graphical programming services. There was a big demand for Terran software skills on Chryse and its associated worlds. Most programming there was performed by various kinds of AI, with results that were solid, reliable, acceptable . . . and utterly without trace of any insight or creative flare that went an iota beyond meeting the minimum specification. The efforts of Hyadean manual programmers fared about the same: in Mike Blair’s phrase, which was his favorite appellation for just about everything they did, “dull and plodding.” Terran programmers, by contrast, could come up with ways of doing things that Hyadean minds were incapable of mimicking. More often than not they worked for companies whose existence was threatened by Hyadean competition.
But it wasn’t a time to be thinking too much about things like that when Julia was sitting at the vanity in her underwear and a negligee, combing out her hair and attending to the feminine bedtime ritual of removing makeup and applying lotion and perfume. Cade stared at her for a while from the bed, watching the tossing waves of her red hair and the lithe, feline motions of her back. Sometimes, he reflected, it seemed as if life treated him too well.
He initiated shutdown, set the computer aside on the night stand, and stretched back comfortably to rest against the headboard, his hands clasped behind his head. Julia caught the movement in the mirror. “So, are you going to fix them up with the same contact that Vrel gave you last time?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Maybe better than that. I was thinking we could use Sigliari. It might lead to a whole bunch of direct lines in there.” Sigliari was a promoter from San Diego who had visited Chryse recently and was actively soliciting business there. Who knew what possibilities a lead like that into the home planet might open up?
“Sounds like a cool idea,” Julia agreed.
Cade shrugged. “Who knows? I might even work a trip there myself one of these days.”
“Even cooler. Does that mean I’m invited?”
“Just try staying behind. Can you see me having fun running wild and free with nothing but Hyadean women around? You’re essential baggage—also wanted on the voyage.”
“Women here don’t seem to have a problem with Hyadean guys,” Julia commented. “You’ve only got to look at Dee and Vrel.”
“Which only goes to show how less discerning women are,” Cade replied. He realized that didn’t sound very good. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Vrel. I mean, he’s a great friend. It’s just . . .” He threw out a hand helplessly. There was no gracious continuation. He had painted himself into a corner. Julia rose, came over to the bed, and disposed of the few garments she was still wearing. Cade let his gaze wander over her, and in moments all thoughts of his impasse had fled. She slid in beside him, entwining bodies, and drew close.
“Then think about a Terran woman for the time being,” she murmured.
They made love skillfully, satisfyingly, with the ease and confidence that come when time has bred a familiarity that goes beyond just good companionship and has banished uncertainties. The physical gratification that they shared at night was the ideal complement to the professional intimacy that they shared during the day. At times, Cade was tempted to bring up the possibility of marrying again; but then, he would ask himself, why risk messing with a good relationship?
Afterward, they lay contentedly, Julia resting her face on his shoulder, her finger tracing idle designs on his chest. “You make me feel like a woman,” she told him.
“What did you expect? Orangutan? Wildebeest? Sumatran two-horned rhinoceros?”
“Oh, don’t be so unromantic. You know what I mean.”