girls instantly looked her up and down with hostile eyes, working out if she was competition or not. They decided not. Denise was the same age group as their catches, with the kind of slim healthy build that could mean she was a fellow gill instructor, and her impatient expression clearly marked her down as a no-fun person.
'Hello?' one of the girls said, her voice rising an octave with mild derision. 'Were we friends in a former life?'
Any decent comeback escaped Denise. The girl's breasts were so large that for the first time Denise got an inkling of that most infuriating male reflex; she just couldn't help glancing at her cleavage. Surely she was too young to have undergone v-writing enlargement?
'Hi, Denise.' Ray got up and gave her a demure peck on the cheek. 'Girls, this is our housemate, Denise.'
They consulted each other silently, and said a resentful, 'Oh hi,' to Denise.
'We just need a quick chat with Denise,' Josep said. He gave his girl a quick pat on her bum. 'Won't be a minute, and then we'll see where we can go to eat out tonight.'
The girl licked some salt off the rim of her margarita glass. 'I'd like that.' She walked off with her friend, the pair of them whispering in sultry amusement. There were several coy glances thrown back at the boys.
'Working hard, I see,' Denise said. Every time she found them with new girls she told herself it didn't bother her. Every time, her disapproval just spilled out.
Ray grinned. 'Just following orders.'
Denise steeled herself and sat on one of the vacated stools. There was nobody near them, and a melodic guitar tune was playing through the tavern's sound system. Not that Memu Bay's police were surveilling them—or even knew about them, but basic precautions now would save a lot of trouble later on. 'We're clear today,' she said quietly. 'Prime didn't pick up any encrypted signals on the spacecom network.'
'They'll come,' Josep said.
His tone was understanding, more like the old Josep. He must have picked up on her frustration—he'd always been the more emotionally sensitive one. She flicked a modest grin of thanks at him. His face was broad, with high cheekbones and lovely wide brown eyes. A thick mop of floppy blond hair was held back from his forehead by a thin leather band—a gift from some girl ages ago. Raymond, by contrast, had round features and a narrow nose, his brown hair cut short. Other than that... She looked from one to the other. The only garment Raymond had on was a pair of old green shorts, while Josep's denim shirt was open down the front. Twin bodies. Did the girls they shared in bed ever comment on that? she wondered.
'I know.' She got a grip on her free-flying thoughts. 'Anything new from your side?'
'Actually yes,' Ray said. He indicated the girls. 'Sally lives in Durrell. She's at college there, a geology student.'
'Okay, that's promising.'
'And there's a possible contact we think should be checked out,' Josep said. 'His name's Gerard Parry. He started on my six-day diving proficiency course today. We got chatting. Turns out he's local. Works up at Teterton Synthetics, a distribution manager.'
A cluster of neural cells in Denise's brain had undergone a d-written modification for direct communication with the local datasphere, an enhancement that human v-writing couldn't yet match. The cluster linked her directly to the pearl ring on her index finger. Her Prime program produced a brief summary of Teterton, scrolling an indigo script across her vision that detailed a small chemical processing company that supplied local food producers with specialist vitamin and protein concoctions. 'Did he sound sympathetic?'
'That's for you to find out. But a contact there could be very useful. There's some compounds we still haven't acquired.'
'Okay, sounds good. How do I meet him?'
'We promised him a blind date. Tonight.'
'Oh God,' she groaned. There would barely be time to go home and change.
'He's a nice bloke,' Josep protested. 'I like him. Sensitive, caring, all that bull chicks go for.'
'Just as long as he's not like you,' Denise snapped back.
'Ouch.' He smiled. 'Well, here's your chance to find out Here he comes.'
'What!'
Ray stood up and waved happily. Denise turned to see the man approaching. In his thirties, overweight, with thinning hair. The restrained smile of a professional bachelor, desperate to hide how desperate he was. A broad black-glass PSA bracelet was worn on his right wrist Several girls around the tavern checked their directional displays, and hurriedly looked away.
Denise stood up to greet him, the heel of her right foot making solid contact on Josep's toes.
She didn't get home until well after eleven o'clock that night. By that time the weary anger had become a kind of numb indifference to life. All she wanted to do was go to bed and forget the entire evening.
Despite his appearance, Gerard Parry wasn't a bad man. He could hold a conversation, on local issues at least, and was willing to listen up to a point. He even had a few jokes, though he lacked the nonchalance to tell them properly. She could imagine him working hard to memorize them when he heard them around the office.
They had started off having a couple of drinks with Ray and Josep, much to the obvious disgust of the girls. Then dinner was mentioned, and Josep managed to split them up. Gerard took her to a fairly decent restaurant, which left her free to establish his political sympathies. That was when it all fell apart.
Denise never knew how much blame she should take for personal catastrophes like this. It was strange, considering how she almost unfailingly managed to befriend potential recruits who weren't single and male. She asked Gerard the questions she needed to, and tried to ask others, to show an interest in his personal life. But he figured out pretty early on that she wasn't interested in any kind of long-term relationship, or even a brief passionate affair. Men invariably figured that out about her at some time. Always, at the end of such evenings, it finished with her being told she was too intense, or cool, or aloof. Twice she'd been sneeringly accused of being a lesbian.
She didn't even mind the fact that she never made the connection. What she hated was that she could never tell them why. The fact that she'd committed herself to something more important than them, or her. It justified the way she was. But they'd never know. To all of them, she was just another wasted evening.
Gerard Parry got drunk very quickly, especially for a man of his bulk. His conversation turned into a bitter monologue; there were morbid complaints about how he missed out because girls never looked behind his size for the real him, and rhetorical questions about what did she and the rest of the female universe want from a bloke anyway. During his ramblings, he managed to spill half a glass of red wine over the table, which splashed across her skirt. She got up and didn't look back. The headwaiter called a cab for her.
She sat in the back of the AS-driven vehicle, refusing to cry as the lively town slid by beyond the windows. Inner strength was something that could never be installed, unlike her physical ability. That, she had to supply by herself.
The Prime program in her pearl had recorded the encrypted emissions from Gerard's PSA bracelet. A gross breech of etiquette; PSAs were supposed to be exchanged. As she reviewed the data she gained a degree of satisfaction knowing what a pig he was. It made her feel a hell of a lot more justified leaving him weeping
