Now he could have those things. What made him hang back? Why did he hesitate?
Why indeed, when refusal meant death without gain, without meaning?
Only then he thought of other things, and pain came in a rush to fill the emptiness.
For he thought of those who lived, and those who'd died, whether they lived or died for good or evil. Of Bor Legat and Ungo, Tas Karrel and Ylana, a thousand fallen crewmen.
Of Ceresta's teeming hives, and Pallas, and of the raider fleet.
Of freedom.
Perhaps there was still a place in this mad universe for a man who did not fear to die.
Again, he looked down into Sais' dark, lovely face. Again, her hair's fragrance rose like perfume in his nostrils.
But as he stared, somehow, the lines and contours kept shifting, changing, till it was as if he were gazing at one of the primitives' hideous, leering masks.
Bleakly, he pushed her away.