"I don't want to see you hurt, Jupiter." Tabak grew more and
more confused under his level stare. "You don't know the Kagans.
They--they're promiscuous like animals. Lete would never understand
your morals. She couldn't--"
Jupiter slapped his leg, burst into laughter.
"Good heavens, I'm not in love with her. Why, I'll be leaving Yogol as
soon as I can get enough fuel. I couldn't take her with me anyway."
"Oh," said Tabak.
Jupiter's eyes suddenly widened.
"You were speaking Lingua Galactica!"
"Why not? I know it as well as you." They were back in the control
blister. She sank into an acceleration chair, smoothed the short black
sarong over her legs, raised her eyes to his. A small frown drew her
brows together.
"Jupiter, what is love?"
"What did you say?" he asked, not sure that he'd heard her aright.
"Love. There's no such emotion among Yogolians. Sexual attraction, but
not love. What is it, Jupiter?"
He gave her a startled, baffled look.
"It--it's a romantic invention," he said, "to dress up the biological
urge. It's something you feel for another person like hunger only not
so tangible."
She nodded to herself. "That's what I thought, but I wasn't sure. Is it
very strong, Jupiter?"
"It can be."
"What are the symptoms?"
He scratched his chin. "It hits different people different ways.
You--you--Oh, hell," he said, "I don't know. What ever made you ask?"
"I've got it," she said in a stricken voice.