Her world needed no subterfuge to protect it. The bipeds had something better—they would be safe. Henig would make sure of that.
After a time the truck came to a stop. Henig opened the rear door and dropped to the road. He recognized the garage where he had killed the two aliens that afternoon. He knew where he was.
The Lieutenant leaned for a moment against the open truck door, adjusting to the new pain in his wound. In the front of the vehicle he saw the girl and her brother. A pale light from the dash fell on their faces. Henig saw the girl's eyes for the first time, and he realized suddenly that she was blind!
No wonder she had helped him, then. She hadn't known he was an alien. That accounted, too, for her quick understanding of his telecommunication; sightlessness had heightened her other perceptions.
The radio in the truck was on. The girl and her brother were listening to a newscast reporting the diplomatic maneuvers of something referred to as the cold war. Impatiently the blind female snapped off the broadcast.
Henig heard her say softly, "Have you ever wondered, Fred, what another race might think of us?"
"They'd call us fools, I suppose. We have the ability to build so much, but instead we're using our science to destroy ourselves."
"But you know, Fred, I don't think that would seem important to an outsider. Perhaps he wouldn't even be aware of the conflict. Simply because we're human beings, Fred, we have something far more significant. We have it because men and women have to live together, because—"
"Love?" Her brother laughed. "We take that for granted."
"It's a pity we can't see ourselves—just once—as strangers might. We would be able to understand our own greatness, then."