"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?"