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earlier that day. “Drugs,” I
    said, speculatively. “The Greeshka must produce an organic pleasure drug. The Shkeen submit to it willingly and die happy. The joy is real, believe me. We felt it."
    Lyanna looked doubtful, though, and Gourlay shook his head adamantly. “No, Robb. Not so. We've experimented on the Greeshka, and..."
    He must have noticed my raised eyebrows. He stopped. “How did the Shkeen feel about that?” I asked.
    “Didn't tell them. They wouldn't have liked it, not at all. Greeshka's just an animal, but it's their God. Don't fool around with God, you know. We refrained for a long time, but when Gustaffson went over, old Stuart had to know. His orders. We didn't get anywhere, though. No extracts that might be a drug, no secretions, nothing. In fact, the Shkeen are the only native life that submits so easily. We caught a whiner, you see, and strapped it down, and let a Greeshka link up. Then, couple hours later, we yanked the straps. Damn whiner was furious, screeching and yelping, attacking the thing on its head. Nearly clawed its own skull to ribbons before it got it off."
    “Maybe only the Shkeen are susceptible?” I said. A feeble rescue attempt.
    “Not quite,” said Valcarenghi, with a small, thin smile. “There's us."
    * * * *
    Lya was strangely silent in the tube, almost withdrawn. I assumed she was thinking about the conversation. But the door to our suite had barely slid shut behind us when she turned toward me and wrapped her arms around me.
    I reached up and stroked her soft brown hair, slightly startled by the hug. “Hey,” I muttered, “what's wrong?"
    She gave me her vampire look, big-eyed and fragile. “Make love to me, Robb,” she said with a soft sudden urgency. “Please. Make love to me now."
    I smiled, but it was a puzzled smile, not my usual lecherous bedroom grin. Lya generally comes on impish and wicked when she's horny, but now she was all troubled and vulnerable. I didn't quite get it.
    But it wasn't a time for questions, and I didn't ask any. I just pulled her to me wordlessly and kissed her hard, and we walked together to the bedroom.
    And we made love, really made love, more than poor Normals can do. We joined our bodies as one, and I felt Lya stiffen as her mind reached out to mine. And as we moved together I was opening myself to her, drowning myself in the flood of love and need and fear that was pouring from her.
    Then, quickly as it had begun, it ended. Her pleasure washed over me in a raw red wave. And I joined her on the crest, and Lya clutched me tightly, her eyes shrunk up small as she drank it all in.
    Afterwards, we lay there in the darkness and let the stars of Shkea pour their radiance through the window. Lya huddled against me, her head on my chest, while I stroked her.
    “That was good,” I said in a drowsy-dreamy voice, smiling in the star-filled darkness.
    “Yes,” she replied. Her voice was soft and small, so small I barely heard it. “I love you, Robb,” she whispered.
    “Uh-huh,” I said. “And I love you."
    She pulled loose of my arm and rolled over, propping her head on a hand to stare at me and smile. “You do,” she said. “I read it. I know it. And you know how much I love you, too, don't you?"
    I nodded, smiling. “Sure."
    “We're lucky, you know. The Normals have only words. Poor little Normals. How can they tell , with just words? How can they know ? They're always apart from each other, trying to reach each other and failing. Even when they make love, even when they come, they're always apart. They must be very lonely."
    There was something ... disturbing ... in that. I looked at Lya, into her bright happy eyes, and thought about it. “Maybe,” I said, finally. “But it's not that bad for them. They don't know any other way. And they try, they love too. They bridge the gap sometimes."
    “Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence,” Lya quoted, her voice sad and tender. “We're luckier, aren't we? We