Another exchange of salutes. The officers left. "What did they want, Meikl?" she asked. "Just idle conversation. It's nearly time for the meeting with the elders. Let's go." They began walking along the ridge together in the late sunlight. The meeting was to attempt to explain to the elders of the Geoark that the men of the fleet were not free to depart from the occupied zone. The attempt would be fruitless, but ven Klaeden had ordered it. From the viewpoint of the high command, three hundred desertions out of nineteen thousand men over a period of six months was not an important loss of personnel. What _was_ important: the slow decay of discipline under the "no force" interdict. A policy of "no arrest" had been established for the ausland. If a man escaped from the occupied zone, Justice Section could send a detail to demand his return, but if he refused, no force would be used, because of the horrified reaction of the natives. If he were located, a killer was dispatched, armed with a tiny phial, a hollow needle, and a CO_{2} gun that could be concealed in the palm of the hand. The killer stalked the deserter until he caught him alone, fired from cover, and stole quietly away while the deserter plucked the needle out of his hide to stare at it in horror. He had a week in which to get back to the occupied zone to beg for immunization; if he did not, the spot would become alive with fungus, and the fungus would spread, and within months, he would die rather grimly. The real danger, Meikl knew, was not to the fleet but to the natives. The spacers were cultural poison, and each deserter was a source of infection moving into the native society, a focal point of restimulation for any recessive kult'laenger lines that still existed in a peaceful people after twenty thousand years. "I think Evon will be here," the girl said too casually as they entered the forest and turned into a path that led to the glade where the elders had assembled. He took her arm suddenly, and stopped in the pathway. "Letha--you have worked for me many months." "Yes--" "I love you, Letha." She smiled very slowly, and lifted her hands to his face. He kissed her quietly, hating himself. "You'll take me with you," she said. "No." It was impossible. "Then you'll stay." "It is ... _forbidden_ ... _verboten_...." There was no word in the tongue. "I can't understand.... If you love...." He swallowed hard. For the girl, "love" automatically settled everything, and consummation must follow. How could he explain. "Letha--in your culture, 'life' is the highest value." "How could it be otherwise? Love me, Meikl." He took a deep breath and straightened. "You understand 'drama', Letha. I have watched your people. Their lives are continuous conscious play-acting. Your lives are a dance, but you know you are dancing, and you dance as you will. Have you watched our people?" She nodded slowly. "You dance a different dance--act a different play."