The real danger, Meikl knew, was not to the fleet but to the natives. The spacers were cultural poison, and each deserter was a source of infection moving into the native society, a focal point of restimulation for any recessive kult'laenger lines that still existed in a peaceful people after twenty thousand years.
"I think Evon will be here," the girl said too casually as they entered the forest and turned into a path that led to the glade where the elders had assembled.
He took her arm suddenly, and stopped in the pathway.
"Letha—you have worked for me many months."
"Yes—"
"I love you, Letha."
She smiled very slowly, and lifted her hands to his face. He kissed her quietly, hating himself.
"You'll take me with you," she said.
"No." It was impossible.
"Then you'll stay."