voco—they came out of FedGov Security files, of course. You wanted to upset me, to frighten me...."

Her voice trailed off, and it was as if she herself, somehow, had left the room. I felt a strange sense of helplessness and guilt. Words wouldn't come.

And it was a time when I needed words, the right words; needed them desperately; needed them now, this instant, if mankind were to survive.

Yet still we sat there, looking past each other in aching silence.

Then, quite suddenly, Celeste asked in a small voice, "Would you trade, Mark? Would you?"

"Would I trade—?"

"Yes. The things you want to know for ones I'd like to ask."

Tension crept across my forehead, stretching the skin tight. "What kind of things?"

"About—about you, mostly, Mark."

It was the second time she'd used my given name. Her voice held a vibrance that was strangely taut and urgent.

I said, "It's a bad bargain, Celeste. There's nothing to tell about me. Not that anyone would want to know."

"There is, Mark! For me, there is!" She moved swiftly, sliding across the space between us on her knees. Her hand pressed my arm. "Who is it you hate, Mark? What are you fighting, really?"

"Who do I hate—?" I stared. "Who do you think? Who do any of us hate, except the Kel?"

"But why, Mark? Why?"

I groped; pulled back a little. "You come from Bejak II, and you ask that? Give those monsters half a chance, and there'll be no human race!"

"That's your answer, then? You hate the Kel because of this fight, this war between the races?"

"Of course that's why. Isn't that enough?"

"I don't know, Mark. I really don't." Celeste buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with sudden tremors.

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