He ventured into the security station to fill in his staff on what he’d learned, and Banichi was there, looking like death. “You, nadi,” he said to B… - C. J. Cherryh

One tribe moves out and one tribe stays. History broadens, and philosophy shifts, develops a rift, splits one population from the other . . . and a schism happens, minor or major. It’s the way humankind has always proliferated. We go over the next hill, live a few hundred years, change our languages to accommodate things we never saw before — and before we know it, our cousins think we have an accent. Or we think they have a strange attitude. And we don’t really understand our cousins any longer.

Multiple sets of golden eyes lit up in anticipation. Fried fish, in the style of Mospheiran street vendors, was his aishid’s favorite of the new flavors they’d discovered on the island.

But there was someone she knew who could speak with a special knowledge on the Cross-Lexcorp controversy. Someone she’d rather not deal with. Someone she’d as soon not see again as long as she lived. Her former fiancé. Lex. Lex Luthor. – Lois Lane