"Were you bored at dinner last night?" he asked.

"Not at all."

The conversation had mostly been casual, the Prendarians polite. No one had asked any uncomfortable questions about her background. They'd been... nice. Nicer than any Prendarians she'd ever met. Prendarians she could actually like -- if only they weren't Prendarians.

Hell, they'd probably only been nice to her because she'd been with Gray. Despite the private doubts he'd confessed to her, he obviously wielded considerable power in his own right. The Prendarians had been all too willing to listen to his opinions.

"You charmed everyone, you know." He looked pleased.

She nearly choked. Charmed all those Prendarians? Not likely. "I barely said a word."

"You listened. They were flattered." He gave a little laugh. "Politicians are more accustomed to having people interrupt them."

She'd been too nervous to talk to them. "I didn't have much to say."

"But what you did say held merit. Even Hento declared you a woman of great sense."

Yeah, that had been a shocker. "He only said that to irritate Reema."

"No, Hento never gives false compliments. And Reema agreed with him."

Reema had agreed. She'd even sounded sincere. "She just wanted to be polite."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Gray spoke. "You seemed uncomfortable when we discussed the constitution."

No wonder he was such a successful negotiator. He could read people like books.

"I just couldn't think of anything to say. I don't follow politics." But since he'd given her an opening, she'd ask the question she'd been dying to ask. "Why are you so committed to this living wage plan of yours?" It didn't seem like a smart move, risking the whole constitution just to give Earthers a raise.

He froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Because everyone should earn enough wages to purchase common necessities. No one should be desperate for credits for food, shelter, or clothing."

But that didn't tell her why it mattered to him. If he cut that amendment, the constitution would pass with ease. She'd never point that out to him, but he had to know it already. Last night in the hovercraft, Reema and Hento had both told him as much. "Why not make those things available to people who are too poor to buy them?"

His smile seemed gentle. "Better to give them a means to pay. A proud person would not wish to be... a charity case."

A proud person like her. "One of the Prendarians -- Biitna -- said your plan would strain the economy too much."

He shrugged. "Not unduly. People need occupations. They also need to be paid enough to survive."

When had he stopped eating? His fork lay on the table, and his serious gaze was wholly focused on her. "I should think you, of all people, would understand why this is a vital provision to me."

He looked at her so calmly, as if he hadn't just admitted that he was risking everything, risking the whole constitution, because of her. Because of misguided feelings for her. She wanted to duck her head and hide. Damn it, why the hell was she feeling guilty? She didn't want the constitution to pass, and Gray was helping her succeed.

"What is your sanctioned occupation, Daria?"

Lie. No, she'd lied to him enough already. "I'm a software programmer."

He frowned. "Such an occupation should pay adequate wages."

She shrugged. "It paid better ten years ago. A lot of the old computer systems have been replaced with alien technology."

"Even so, you should be earning enough that --" He stopped abruptly.

"What?" Damn, she shouldn't have asked. Now he'd probe, and force her to lie.

He took a drink of water -- probably to think of a more diplomatic thing to say -- then set the glass down and gazed at her steadily, his expression neutral. "You should be earning enough that you do not need income from additional sources."

Uh-oh. She'd blown her cover. Was that suspicion in his voice? In his eyes? "I don't like programming."

His brows drew together in a frown, almost a scowl. "You prefer prostitution?"

He sounded sarcastic. Viciously sarcastic. But at least he still believed she was a whore. She couldn't think of a damned thing to say. Might as well use the fork in her hand to distract herself. She looked down at her plate and diligently ate another bite, avoiding his all-too-perceptive eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said gently.

That brought her gaze back up. "For what?"

"For speaking harshly. I do not think any less of you because you were forced to... increase your income."

God. An honorable man like him, apologizing to a woman he thought was a whore. And even though he thought she was a whore, he still cared about her. Just last night, he'd said...

He'd almost said...

Could a man like this really love her?

No. Not if he knew the truth.

He might not hate her for being a whore, but he'd certainly hate her for being in the resistance. And even though he had a few good qualities, he was still a collaborator. He still wanted to cement the Prendarian presence on Earth. If this constitution passed -- the constitution that meant so much to him -- the aliens would be here forever.

She couldn't let that happen. Even so, he didn't deserve to be used the way she was using him... and he didn't deserve to feel guilty for snapping at her. No, all the guilt belonged on her shoulders. "You have nothing to apologize for, Gray."

"Thank you."

He returned to eating, and so did she. If he wanted to talk, he could bring up the next topic. She wasn't about to set another trap like that last one. As soon as she finished eating, she'd run into the shower. And hope he didn't follow her.

If he did, she'd hope his mind wasn't on talking.

"Daria."

Uh-oh. She looked up, trying to keep her face relaxed. Unworried. "Yes?"

"If you have opinions about the living wage plan, I would like to know them."

It sucks. The whole constitution sucks. Take your Prendarian friends and go home. She tried to give a careless shrug. "Like I said, I don't know much about politics." Shit, that sounded defensive.

"But you know what matters to you personally. And what matters to you is probably of concern to many others."

She fumbled for words. "I can't think of anything. Really." Great, now she sounded like an idiot. Even whores had opinions. He must think her the most shallow woman on the planet.

"I'm surprised that you don't appear to support the living wage. I thought you would be pleased by the plan."

Oh, he was good at probing. And if he really wanted to know, she'd tell him. Give him some real information to think about. "Well, there's one problem with your living wage plan. It assumes that the sanctioned occupation system is going to continue."

He nodded. "Of course it will. The system guarantees employment for every person. Without it, people would have to struggle to find occupations. The plan has been in place for decades, and all agree that it works well."

All agree. Like he'd taken a planet-wide survey. "That's easy to say when you're not a victim of it."

He frowned. "A victim? The system provides an occupation based on individual talents. It costs much to administer. More than any other program. But it's worth the expense."

"An expensive failure."

He put down his fork and leaned forward, resting his elbows on either side of his plate. "Speak plainly. You make little sense."

Arrogant jerk. "If I make no sense, I'll just shut up."

He said nothing. Well, now she knew better than to try to explain anything to him. She took a bite of her cooling food.

"Daria." His voice was quiet, his eyes concerned. "I would like to understand your opinion. Please tell me your true thoughts about the program."

She dropped her fork to the table. "Fine. I think the whole program stinks."

He looked completely shocked. "You do?"

"Yes, I do. I hate it."

"Why?"

He sounded bewildered. As if he couldn't imagine anyone having a different opinion than his own. "Because it's cruel. When I was four years old, a bunch of aliens gave me a test and decided that I was destined to be a programmer. I never had any choice."

"What would you have chosen instead?"

She gestured impatiently with her hand. "God, I don't know. I never got to find out what other jobs existed."

"You received schooling. It's another benefit of the program. Many years of --"

"Yeah, I got schooling all right. Just enough schooling to do my sanctioned occupation. I wasn't taught anything but the basics of other subjects. And all because some damned alien looked at a test score from when I was practically a baby and labeled me a programmer."

Her breath came fast, her throat felt tight. She swallowed a hard lump and fell silent.

Damn, she'd said way too much. Revealed too much.

His face seemed grave. Serious. Finally he gave a short nod. "The system will be modified. Children will be periodically reviewed to ensure that they still have an aptitude -- and a desire -for their sanctioned occupation. We will give them... a choice." He paused. "Tell me your thoughts. Will this resolve the problem?"

He couldn't be serious. "Just like that? You'll change the whole system, just because it pisses me off?"

"Yes. If you are... pissed off, no doubt many others are as well. I didn't realize the system was flawed."

She shook her head, dazed. "But... how can you do this?"

He finished the last bite of his food. "I'll contact Hento. One of my assistants will write a new provision for the constitution before the meeting today."

"What if... what if the delegates don't like the change? They all seemed really happy to continue the program as is. It's the living wage they objected to." Why the hell was she bringing this up? If they objected, they'd be less likely to approve the constitution. That was exactly what she wanted.

But it didn't feel like what she wanted. Shit.

Gray raised an eyebrow, a supercilious look he might have learned from the Premier Leader herself. "If they disagree, I will persuade them to agree."

Must be nice to have that kind of confidence. But still... he'd listened to her. She'd told him her concerns, and he jumped to take action to fix things. For her. Even though these changes might sink the constitution.

God, he must really love her.

No. No, he must really think he loved her.

"Does anything else trouble you, Daria?"

Only the fact that you're trying to solidify the Prendarian control of Earth. Well, that was one thing she could never tell him. One thing he could never fix for her. She'd fix that herself, with Spider's help. "No. Honestly."

Gray stood, came to her side, and dropped a brief kiss on top of her head. "I must contact Hento now about the amendment."

She nodded without looking away from her plate. One glance at her eyes would show him she was on the verge of tears.

His thumb stroked over her cheekbone in a gentle caress. "Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me."

She didn't watch him leave. After a moment, she heard his voice from the other room, speaking to Hento over the command center. Giving him orders. Orders that could mean the death of the constitution that meant so much to him. And even if the changes to the sanctioned occupation plan didn't sink him, Spider would.

She should be happy.

Her chair scraped against the floor when she pushed back from the table. Maybe she could sneak into the shower while Gray spoke to Hento.

The shower would cover the noise of a good cry.

* * * * * When a Prendarian woman stood, her face angry, Daria held her breath. More opposition. This must be the fiftieth delegate to complain, and they'd only been debating the new provision for an hour. Even the few Earthers who'd spoken up seemed doubtful. From the edge of her vision, she saw Gray's fist clench behind the narrow podium. The woman scowled openly at Gray. "I add my voice to the dissent. We have no cause to tamper with a system that has served us well for three decades." "I understand your concerns, Janta," he began. Amazing, the way he could remember all those names. He hadn't forgotten a single one. Gray leaned forward and gripped the edge of his podium. So earnest. "But any system can be improved. The modification is small, but will dramatically improve the productivity of those with sanctioned occupations. And it will not unduly strain the treasury." Nice job, putting his response in terms of productivity. Terms that Prendarians could appreciate.

"But the new wage provision will strain the treasury," the woman insisted. "Earth must become self-sustaining. We can't rely on Prendarian support forever."

"The base wages will create only a nominal increase," Gray replied.

Daria tuned him out. She'd heard it all before. Seemed like Gray had been repeating the same arguments all morning, just using different words. Different words, a different tone of voice, whatever he thought would be persuasive. Throughout the long morning, he'd been quick on the draw, ready with just the right thing to say. Witty or insightful or blunt by turns, modifying his approach for each delegate. No doubt about it, Gray was good at his job. A masterful negotiator, regardless of any family connections he happened to have.

When he banged a small gavel on the podium, Daria jumped. Damn, her mind had completely wandered. Gray must have called for intermission. The delegates stood, many of them stretching, murmuring amongst themselves, clearly sharing their objections.

Gray didn't turn toward her, just stared out over the milling sea of delegates with a thoughtful smile on his face. The smile looked fake. He must be worried. After an hour of haranguing and arguing, even his considerable self-confidence must be shaken.

And no wonder. All of the delegates seemed pissed off. He'd be lucky to get fifty votes. It looked like her mission might succeed after all. Despite her confusion, her inexperience, she'd pulled it off.

Tank would be so happy.

And if the constitution didn't fail because of the new amendments, Spider would have some kind of backup plan. Some way to make sure the aliens didn't get their power sanctioned by Earthers.