Celeste said, "Find a spot that fits you. That's the best way." Gingerly, I tested the footing, and discovered that the whole room was surfaced with a substance like a superior, foam-based carpet. Following the girl, I found a hollow at the base of a slab and slumped down. "Comfortable?" "Comfortable." I leaned back, studying my companion. "Are you?" "Am I comfortable, you mean?" "Yes." "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" "I don't know." I shrugged. "I just thought it might be a little difficult for a human--adapting to the Kel." "And I think you're trying to fish for information." The girl smiled at me. "You know, you're really a rather remarkable man, Agent Traynor." "Oh?" "You asked me why I brought you here--and that's the reason. You caught my curiosity when you talked to me on the voco. So much so I decided to come see you. And when I saw those others chasing you--well...." It was my turn to smile. "You're very convincing, Celeste. I might even believe you, if I hadn't known you back on Bejak." "Oh, yes. Bejak." For the fraction of a second, the clear eyes shadowed. "It would have been nice if you'd been on Bejak, Mr. Traynor. It really would. But you weren't. Those details--the things you said to me on the 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.