other woman was watching her with concentration and poorly-disguised irritation. Sondra knew why. She had broken up a tête-à-tête between Trudy and Bey. From the look of it, a very private one. A casual guest did not sit at ease and barefoot, in a lounge robe carefully designed to show off her lush figure.
Sondra returned the detailed scrutiny. Trudy Melford wore the current look, but at an age older than was fashionable. Sondra guessed it at thirty, but assessed Trudy's actual age as a good deal older. Mid-forties, for a bet.
Why wear neither one age nor the other, neither true age nor the early twenties that was the general preference? Sondra looked again, and saw other anomalies. She had studied the current fashion in great detail. Like Bey, she could catalog the minor differences.
And unlike Bey, she was able to make another deduction. Before ever visiting Wolf Island she had studied every reference she could find to Behrooz Wolf. Not just his technical work, but the personal details. She knew the name, age, background, and physical appearance of every woman with whom Bey had enjoyed a significant relationship.
So, apparently, did someone else. Because Trudy Melford's deviations from the standard form were far from random. They had all been chosen with infinite care—even, Sondra now realized, the age—to make Trudy Melford's appearance a subtle composite of Bey's former female companions.
It was ironic. Sondra had considered doing the same thing herself, until she made a rough estimate of how much it would cost. Nothing that she would need was off-the-shelf. The necessary form modifications called for complete custom-fitting, using specially-written and delicately designed programs. Expensive programs. She had been forced to drop the idea.
Sondra was suddenly aware of her own drenched hair and soggy appearance. And so, from the snooty look on her face, was Trudy Melford.
Sondra felt the rising tension between them. "I've never seen a form quite like the one you're wearing." She tried to sound casual, and failed. "How much does it cost?"
"A negligible amount." Trudy raised her dark eyebrows and again surveyed Sondra's clothes. "But rather more, I'm afraid, than you would be able to afford."
The tone was friendly enough. But the claws were out of their sheaths.
"Oh, I wasn't thinking of using it myself." Sondra glanced toward the door through which Bey had vanished. "I gather that I'm perfect for some people, just the way I am."
"I'm sure that you are, my dear." Trudy smiled, showing even white teeth. "Perfect. For some people."
Sondra smiled back, seething.
Trudy nodded. The two women turned away from each other. Nothing more needed to be said. There had just been a declaration of war; a statement as clear as if it had been written, signed, sealed, and delivered through official ambassadorial channels.
CHAPTER 5
Bey had watched the whole interaction with a good deal of satisfaction.
He had left the room, but he had not gone far. During his fifty-plus years with the Office of Form Control he had lived at the center of a web of data collection whose gossamer threads extended right through the solar system. It was unthinkable that he would give up that addiction simply because he had retired; and it was natural that his house communications center would track what was happening anywhere on Wolf Island.
The exchange between the two women did not make him feel sorry for either of them. They had invaded his privacy and interrupted his work. Sondra had done it twice. Trudy had done it once only, but she had also inflicted on Bey the unspeakable Jarvis Dommer. They both deserved a little suffering.
He was surprised and pleased with Sondra. It required real nerve to take on the most powerful woman in the solar system, and she had done it rather successfully. True, her mouth was quivering and her hands were shaking, but that could be more the chill of her arrival than a loss of nerve.
More importantly, the
Sondra returned the detailed scrutiny. Trudy Melford wore the current look, but at an age older than was fashionable. Sondra guessed it at thirty, but assessed Trudy's actual age as a good deal older. Mid-forties, for a bet.
Why wear neither one age nor the other, neither true age nor the early twenties that was the general preference? Sondra looked again, and saw other anomalies. She had studied the current fashion in great detail. Like Bey, she could catalog the minor differences.
And unlike Bey, she was able to make another deduction. Before ever visiting Wolf Island she had studied every reference she could find to Behrooz Wolf. Not just his technical work, but the personal details. She knew the name, age, background, and physical appearance of every woman with whom Bey had enjoyed a significant relationship.
So, apparently, did someone else. Because Trudy Melford's deviations from the standard form were far from random. They had all been chosen with infinite care—even, Sondra now realized, the age—to make Trudy Melford's appearance a subtle composite of Bey's former female companions.
It was ironic. Sondra had considered doing the same thing herself, until she made a rough estimate of how much it would cost. Nothing that she would need was off-the-shelf. The necessary form modifications called for complete custom-fitting, using specially-written and delicately designed programs. Expensive programs. She had been forced to drop the idea.
Sondra was suddenly aware of her own drenched hair and soggy appearance. And so, from the snooty look on her face, was Trudy Melford.
Sondra felt the rising tension between them. "I've never seen a form quite like the one you're wearing." She tried to sound casual, and failed. "How much does it cost?"
"A negligible amount." Trudy raised her dark eyebrows and again surveyed Sondra's clothes. "But rather more, I'm afraid, than you would be able to afford."
The tone was friendly enough. But the claws were out of their sheaths.
"Oh, I wasn't thinking of using it myself." Sondra glanced toward the door through which Bey had vanished. "I gather that I'm perfect for some people, just the way I am."
"I'm sure that you are, my dear." Trudy smiled, showing even white teeth. "Perfect. For some people."
Sondra smiled back, seething.
Trudy nodded. The two women turned away from each other. Nothing more needed to be said. There had just been a declaration of war; a statement as clear as if it had been written, signed, sealed, and delivered through official ambassadorial channels.
CHAPTER 5
Bey had watched the whole interaction with a good deal of satisfaction.
He had left the room, but he had not gone far. During his fifty-plus years with the Office of Form Control he had lived at the center of a web of data collection whose gossamer threads extended right through the solar system. It was unthinkable that he would give up that addiction simply because he had retired; and it was natural that his house communications center would track what was happening anywhere on Wolf Island.
The exchange between the two women did not make him feel sorry for either of them. They had invaded his privacy and interrupted his work. Sondra had done it twice. Trudy had done it once only, but she had also inflicted on Bey the unspeakable Jarvis Dommer. They both deserved a little suffering.
He was surprised and pleased with Sondra. It required real nerve to take on the most powerful woman in the solar system, and she had done it rather successfully. True, her mouth was quivering and her hands were shaking, but that could be more the chill of her arrival than a loss of nerve.
More importantly, the
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