I stared at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, I nodded. "All right. Let's go."
"Mark—"
I said, "There's no other way, Celeste. I'm human; this is my race the Kel are out to kill. To me, that means I fight them. I fight them all the way, till I drop, no matter what."
Her eyes were wide as she stared at me. "But what will you do?" She gestured helplessly. "What can you?"
I shook my head. "I'm not sure. But Kruze is here on Rizal. I'll see him, talk to him. He's got power. He can order action."
"But Mark, can you reach him? After that fight—the way you broke away—"
"I'll reach him," I said. "I'll reach him. And he'll listen, too, even if it has to be at gunpoint."
I couldn't tell whether the wordless look she gave me was of despair, or resignation.
Down the dark aisles, then; and that in itself was a strange experience. For somehow, incredibly, and in spite of the surrounding, all-pervasive black, there was always just light enough for us to see our way. Yet where it came from, or how, remained a mystery to the end.
We reached the second room, the misshapen, distorted room in which Celeste and I had sat and talked. It was empty now, all traces of the living sculpture gone.