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Allen had a different perspective. “He was forcing allegiance on the American South,” he said. “He’s politically more Terrie than I care for.”

“Mars doesn’t keep slaves,” I reminded him.

“Don’t mind me,” he said. “I’ve always rooted for the underdogs.”

We then retreated along the reflecting pool and watched the sun go down.

“What would Lincoln think of red rabbits?” Allen asked.

“What would Lincoln think of the union now?” I countered.

Despite some maladjustments in my bichemistry — we were definitely overdoing it — I was giddy with the weather, the architecture all out in the open, the history.

We returned to the comb to have dinner with Bithras in the hotel’s main restaurant. The food was even better than it had been aboard Tuamotu. Much of it was fresh, not nano, and I searched for, and thought I found, the difference in flavor. “It tastes like dirt, I think,” I told Bithras and Allen over the white linen tablecloth and silver candlesticks.

“Musty,” Allen agreed. “Not too long since it was alive.”

Bithras coughed. “Enough,” he said.

Allen and I smiled at each other conspiratorially. “We shouldn’t act provincial,” Allen said.

“I’ll act the way I feel,” Bithras said, but he was not angry; simply stating a fact. “The wine is good, though.” He lifted his glass. “To red rabbits out of their element.”

We toasted ourselves.

On the way back to the suite, outside the lift, Bithras looped his arm through mine and pressed me close. Allen saw this and quickly did the same with my other arm. I felt for a moment as if I were being pressed between two overanxious dogs at stud; then I saw what Allen was up to.

Bithras drew his lips into a firm line and let go of my arm. Allen let go immediately after and I gave him a grateful glance.

Bithras behaved as if nothing had happened. And, indeed, nothing had happened. The evening had been too pleasant to believe otherwise.

“I’ve been here for twenty-seven years,” Miriam Jaffrey told us as she invited us into her apartment. “My husband went Eloi ten years ago, and I think, though I do not know for sure, that he is on Mars… So here I am, a Martian on Earth, and he’s a Terrie up there.” Bithras and Allen took seats at her invitation in the broad living room. The windows looked across the sprawl of old Virginia combs and even older skyscrapers. We were on the south side of the Capital Tower Comb, opposite from our hotel.

“I’m always snooping out red rabbits,” she said, sitting beside Bithras. They appeared to be about the same age. “It’s lovely to hear what’s changed and what’s the same. Not that I plan on going back… I’m too used to Earth now. I’m a Terrie, I’m afraid.”

“We’re enjoying ourselves immensely,” Allen said.

Miriam beamed. Her long black hair hung over square thin shoulders revealed by a flowing green cotton dress. “I’m most pleased you could take time out from your busy schedule.”

“Our pleasure,” Bithras said. He squirmed his butt into the couch, fighting the self-adjusting cushions. “Now, are we secure?”

“Very,” Miriam said,“ drawing herself up and suddenly quite serious.

“Good. We need to talk freely. Casseia, Allen: Miriam is not just a social gadfly, she is the best-informed Martian on Earth about things Washingtonian.“

Miriam batted her eyelashes modestly.

“She follows the tradition of a long line of hostesses in this capital, who meet and greet, and know all, and she has been invaluable to Majumdar BM in the past.”

“Thank you, Bithras,” she said.

Bithras produced his slate from a shirt pouch and placed it before her. “We brought a copy of Alice with us. She’s resting in our hotel room now.”

“She’s proof against the latest?” Miriam asked.

“We think she is. We refused an opportunity to let customs sweep her.”

“Good. She’s Terrie-made, of course, so she’s always a little suspect.”

“I trust Alice . She was examined by our finest and found true to her design.”

“All right,” said Miriam, but in a tone that betrayed she still had doubts. “Still, you should know that all thinkers are a little too sweet and innocent to understand Earth, at least those thinkers allowed to be exported — to emigrate.”

“Yes, that is so,” Bithras agreed. “She will only advise, however, not rule.”

I listened to all this in a state of shock. “You’re a spy?” I asked innocently.

“Stars, no!” Miriam laughed and slapped her thigh. She struck a pose, hand on knee, shoulder thrown back, tossing her hair. “Though I could be, don’t you think?”

“We’ll meet later today with representatives from Cailetet and Sandoval,” Bithras said.

“Cailetet’s been very skittish lately,” Miriam said. “Buying up notes and extensions from other BMs, minimizing their exposure in the open Triple Market.”

“I don’t expect to get any answers from them,” Bithras said, “but I show the flag, so to speak. We are willing to keep talking.”

Miriam said she thought that would be useful. “Though I warn you, I’ve never seen Cailetet so spooked.”

“I’d like to know more about these members of the space affairs committee.” Bithras handed her the slate. Names danced before her eyes, along with political icons and identifiers for family and social groups.

Miriam scrolled the list thoughtfully. “Good people. Sharp, above the bang.”

I surreptitiously looked up “above the bang” on my slate. It read: 1: CALM, UNFLAPPABLE; 2: UNIMPRESSED BY HIGH OFFICE.

“They’re dedicated and haven’t missed a trick since I’ve been here,” Miriam said. “Elected officials on Earth are a breed apart, as Bithras is doubtless aware.”

“Yes, we have been dealing with a few of our own. District governors…”

“The difference is that Earth’s elected officials are therapied,” Miriam said. “All except for John Mendoza, here. Senate minority leader. Mendoza is a Mormon. Terries didn’t put up a warm reception for Dauble, but Mendoza ’s party co-hosted a reception for her with Deseret Space. Deseret Space gave her shelter for a few weeks. Debriefed her about Mars, I imagine.”

“At least they have no designs on Mars,” Bithras said.

“No, but Mendoza will ask you why you aren’t willing to allocate more Martian-controlled Belt resource shares to Earth, and why you refuse to join the Sol Resource Management group. Deseret Space has formed some bridges with Green Idaho. Green Idaho is finally casting its eyes on space-related business. They’re both firming up state ties with GEWA, circumventing the U.S. ”

Bithras annotated the transcript of Miriam’s remarks, then looked up and said, “We need to know about Cuba , Hispaniola , New Mexico , and California .”

“All on your list,” Miriam said, brow creased, tapping the slate with a long fingernail. I noticed a vid playing on the fingernail and wondered what it was. “Let me tell you what I know. My library will feed you…”

We listened and shared slate data for the next two hours. When we finished, Bithras switched on his charm, and Miriam seemed receptive. I was relieved.

The meetings with Cailetet and Sandoval, held in our suite, were cordial and totally unproductive. The associate syndic for Cailetet Earth hinted they might not support our unification proposals, that Cailetet Mars might have agreed to the proposals without Triple-wide authority.

After, Bithras was agitated. Almost unconsciously, he stayed close to me, kept gently jostling me. Allen watched with some concern. I ignored it.

Apparently, Miriam was not enough for him. And the pressure was building.

I suffered a small lapse of bichemistry the next morning, alone in my room: nausea, chills, my body breaking through the brace of controls to adjust itself in the way it deemed best. That lasted only an hour, and I felt much better after. The gravity seemed less imposed, more natural.