Henry went to the door and left, as calm as if he'd been chatting quietly with an old friend.

Oh, God. She'd destroyed Gray after all -- without even wanting to.

* * * * * Gray rushed to his quarters with Daria in tow again. She'd been clearly distressed all afternoon. Worried about the constitution. Worried about him. A novel thing, to have a partner worry about him.

Another wondrous thing.

He could easily become used to these daily wonders. Although he disliked seeing Daria troubled.

As soon as they were in his quarters, he took her gently into his arms. "Don't worry. The majority of delegates accept the constitution."

She rubbed her cheek against his chest. "A lot of them don't like the new provisions, Gray."

The provisions that modified the sanctioned occupation system. The provisions to resolve issues she had mentioned to him. She must feel responsible for putting the constitution at risk. "The new provisions are fair and moral, Daria. Hento will contact many of the delegates this evening. We will persuade them."

"I hope so." Her voice sounded a bit... distant. "The constitution sets up a Prefect position, doesn't it?"

The only part of the constitution no one had contested. He drew back so he could see her face, but she didn't look up at him. "Yes, it does. The Prefect will preside over the new, unified legislature."

"And you want the job?"

He could read nothing from her downcast eyes. "I do. Very much."

She bit her lip, looking even more anxious than before. "What if you don't get elected?"

He touched her chin, but her gaze stayed low. "Daria... no matter what happens with the constitution, with the election for Prefect, I won't be leaving Earth."

She looked up then. "What?"

"If I don't become Prefect, I'll find something worthwhile to do. But I'll stay here on Earth.

In San Francisco. With you." He pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "And tomorrow, whether the constitution passes or fails, I have a gift for you."

"Gray, no."

"Daria, yes."

She pulled away, but gripped his forearms. "There's something I have to tell you."

Her breath shuddered, and her lip trembled. Gods, she looked near tears.

"Shh." He held her close and rubbed her back with long, soothing strokes. "You can tell me anything," he murmured against the top of her head. "I love you."

She pulled away then. Her tears spilled over, and she wiped at them with shaking hands. "No, you don't. You don't really know me."

Sanwar, would she never speak her feelings to him? Or even allow him to speak his own? "We discussed this last night. I know you well enough. You dishonor me to negate my truth."

"Stop. Just stop it," she said, her voice sharp. "I have something to tell you, damn it."

"As you will. Speak and be done with this."

She took a deep, unsteady breath. "I'm not who you think I am."

"You are not Daria Viktorovna Cohen?" The woman who goads me to distraction?

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course I am. That's my real name, I mean. But I'm not... I'm not a prostitute."

He should have known. No prostitute could retain Daria's blushing innocence. "Why would you have me believe that of you?"

"Because what I am... what I really am... is so much worse."

Worse? He gripped her arms. "What could possibly be worse?"

Tears flowed freely over her cheeks. "I'm... I'm in the resistance."

He knew the word, but once again, failed to understand her meaning. "The what?"

"The resistance," she repeated.

He shook his head, bewildered. "I don't understand."

"I'm a rebel! I'm fighting against the Prendarian presence on Earth."

Ish ab'tah. He stepped back, away from her. "You... Why?"

Her elbow came up, her arm wiping the tears on her sleeve. "Because I hated the Prendarians so much. Hated them for taking over my world."

The woman made no sense. "Taking over your world? By the gods, they saved your world."

She glared at him through wet, reddened eyes. "That's bullshit. Prendarian bullshit fed to us because they won the war."

He gripped her arms. "There was no war. Merely an invasion. And do you understand why? Because the Earthers had already destroyed themselves. A petty war over money, over resources, because you couldn't share what some of you had in abundance. The Prendarians saved this world from certain destruction."

She shook her head, her hair swinging with her fierce movements. "That's not true. None of it is true."

"I do not lie. Unlike you."

She glared at him. "You can't understand. A rich man like you... you don't know what it's like to grow up in an orphanage. Educated only so I could serve my alien masters."

"I can't understand? Did you not hear me speak to you last evening? My mother was killed when I was only four. I little remember her. They took me to Prendara when I was six years old and put me to work in the ab'tah fields, cutting quaanti grain for ten hours a day. I was a slave. A child slaving in the fields on a foreign world. And you dare to tell me that I can't understand your troubles?"

She said nothing, but her eyes were angry, her lips frowning.

"Yet despite hardship, I did not become a criminal. I did not plan to... to continue a war that ended long ago. I did not decide to terrorize innocent people."

Her chin lifted. "Go to hell."

"And now you seek excuses. You lied... Sanwar, you're a criminal! And you wish for me to excuse your crimes."

"I'm not looking for an excuse. I'm telling you now because..."

Yes, she was telling him. Telling him the truth at last. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Why?" He managed to keep his voice even, if not gentle.

"One of the delegates," she said, her voice strained. "Henry Reed Jamison. He wants to be elected Prefect."

"I can withstand a challenge for the position."

"God, is there no end to your arrogance? Will you listen for just one minute? He has a recording of me, Gray. A holo-recording of me admitting... everything."

At last her confession made sense. "And this is why you tell me. Because you have been discovered. Not because you wish to share yourself with me."

She shook his arm. "Listen to me! This is about you, damn it, not me. I'm telling you because he's going to use the recording to discredit you. To make you look like an idiot because you trusted me."

He was an idiot. To trust a woman on short acquaintance, simply because she blushed at his kisses... and laughed with him... and made him feel like a man instead of a means to a higher station.

Had everything been deceit? "You haven't told me why you allowed me to believe you were a prostitute."

She took a deep, shuddering breath. "My group wanted to stop the constitution. I was supposed to sleep with you and... and help them kidnap you."

No. By the gods, no. "You knew who I was." His voice came out choked, like a groan. "You knew the whole time. That first night..." When she'd been so sweet, so demure. Blushing in his arms like a virgin.

All an act. A deception. A lie.

She nodded. "I knew."

She'd never truly wanted him. Just like all the others. No, worse than the others. He'd been less than a position to her -- he'd been a means to obtain a criminal objective. And now she dared to rest her little hand on his forearm, looking up at him with pleading, innocent eyes.

Innocent? Hardly. In truth, she was nothing but a liar.

He pulled away from her and gave her his back. "Leave."

"But... Henry said..."

No more lies. No more deceit. If she stayed another moment, he might commit violence against her. "Leave!"

"I want to help, Gray."

As if he could ever trust her again. He walked to the command panel in the wall. "Help yourself. Leave me before I contact the Enforcers."

"Please, don't."

Her voice was soft, beguiling. Even after this betrayal, her voice moved him.

His hand clenched into a fist. If he turned to look at her, he might... "Leave now, and I'll grant you ten minutes before I contact the Enforcers. Stay, and I will see you confined."

The wait seemed endless. He heard nothing but his breath, the pounding of his heart.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice broken.

And then he heard the door open and close.

He turned. The room stood empty.

She'd left him.

Gray sank to the floor, leaned his elbows on his knees, and put his head in his hands.

Chapter Nine.

Daria could barely see through her tears. She stumbled through the corridor, turned left, and found herself in an odd room. A room with five walls, full of oblong tables and low chairs. Damn it, she'd taken a wrong turn. At least the room was empty.

Only ten minutes. Ten minutes to get away.She turned and headed back the way she'd come. When she tilted around a corner, she ran into a tall figure. She looked up through blurry eyes. Reema. Oh, no. "Daria? What troubles you?" She shook her head and tried to pass, but Reema held her arm in a tight grip. "Come with me. We will speak in my quarters." The door was only a few feet away, and Reema pulled her inside before she could resist. "Daria?" Hento's voice. Great, now she'd never escape. "What has occurred?" "Nothing." Oh, what a stupid thing to say. She was sobbing, nearly hysterical. "Gray..." Hento grasped her free arm. "Is he injured?" "No, he... he found out... He found out that I'm not what I seem." "I don't understand." "I'm..." Oh hell, she might as well tell them. Gray had probably already called the Enforcers. "I'm in the resistance." It took them a long moment to absorb that. "Against what do you resist?" Reema asked. "Against you." "Aaahhh." The long sound came from Hento. "I will go to Sarjah Gray." She heard the door swish open and closed behind her. Now Gray would know where she was. Trapped in his Primary's quarters. The Enforcers would be here in a moment.

"Please." She looked up into Reema's serious, beautiful face. "Please, let me go. He's going to call the Enforcers. I have to run."

"Do you have credits?"

What did that have to do with anything? Yes, she had credits. Thousands of credits, all of them from Gray. She nodded.

Reema crossed the room, opened a small drawer, and came back to Daria's side. "Here." Reema pressed a card into her hand. "This credit card is anonymous. You can use it without being traced."

She looked at the card in her hand, then at Reema. "But... Why are you helping me?"

Reema looked surprised. "Because you need assistance."

She made it sound so simple. "I don't deserve your... assistance."

Reema said nothing, merely went into the other room. Sounds of hard items clanging, like someone rummaging in kitchen cabinets, came from there. Daria followed her, curious.

Reema stood at a dresser-like piece of furniture next to the stove, stuffing a few small containers into a quad-strapped sack. She fastened the bag closed, then walked to Daria and handed it to her.

The bag weighed at least ten pounds. "What's in here?"

"Emergency rations, a thermo blanket, and a portable lamp."

Her eyes teared up again. She rubbed at her leaky eyes, making them sore. "Why are you helping me?" she asked again.

"Because I like you, Daria."

More tears. Damn. "You shouldn't. I'd do anything to get your people off of Earth."

"Anything? Would you kill?"