"Why are you so cold and mechanical in your Human relationships?"

Her irony could not be evaded.  She'd made him appear ridiculous in his own eyes.  He could feel warmth, yes . . . even love, for a Caleban but not for a Human female.  This unguarded feeling he held for Fannie Mae had never been directed at any of his marital companions.  Fannie Mae had aroused his anger, then reduced his anger to verbal breast-beating, and finally to silent hurt.  Still, the love remained.

Why?

Human females were bed partners.  They were bodies which used him and which he used.  That was out of the question with this Caleban.  She was a star burning with atomic fires, her seat of consciousness unimaginable to other sentients.  Yet, she could extract love from him.  He gave this love freely and she knew it.  There was no hiding an emotion from a Caleban when she sent her mental tendrils into your awareness.

She'd certainly known he would see the irony.  That had to be part of her motive in such an attack.  But Calebans seldom acted from a single motive - which was part of their charm and the essence of their most irritant exchanges with other sentient beings.

"McKie?"  Softly in his mind.

"Yes."  Angry.

"I show you now a fractional bit of my feeling toward your node."

Like a balloon being inflated by a swift surge of gas, he felt himself suffused by a projected sense of concern, of caring.  He was drowning in it . . . wanted to drown in it.  His entire body radiated this white-hot sense of protective attention.  For a whole minute after it was withdrawn, he still glowed with it.

A fractional bit?

"McKie?"  Concerned.

"Yes."  Awed.

"Have I hurt you?"

He felt alone, emptied.

"No."

"The full extent of my nodal involvement would destroy you.  Some Humans have suspected this about love."