“But, Lors! She’s an alien! It’s like a farmer, falling in love with his stock! It’s crazy! You couldn’t live on this planet the rest of your life, and she couldn’t live with you!”
Lors shrugged.
“What about Jela,” Narvi demanded swiftly.
He didn’t answer him. Memories of the blond woman with the trim ankles, the slim waist and the large breasts floated back to him; memories of the many evenings they’d shared walking along the sand under the stars. He sat there fingering the thoughts as they rolled past, without feeling anything. He was aware, finally, that Narvi was speaking to him.
“... know how you feel, Lors, but forget it. You could never work anything out. Go on back to Jela and forget about this alien. It doesn’t matter how wonderful she is; probably nothing short of killing her husband would gain her for you.”
[p106]
Lors smiled thinly. “We can do that, too.” He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment “What did Imry do with Danson?”
“Nothing. He lives better than most spacers. Since we are minus prisons on starships, Imry installed him in your quarters, under guard, of course. Commander Zark hasn’t been able to figure out what to do with him, yet. That’s what he wants to talk to you about.”
“Have you a scout ship here?” Lors asked.
“Certainly. We use them to make reports. The Terrans would pick up the radio waves otherwise.”
“How about a uniform?”