 Why does Gerri kiss Lane?
Raging , Trooper Lane hovered three thousand feet above Tammany Square. The cool cybrain surgically implanted in him was working on the problem. Just a little time off, so I shouldn't blow my top. The humming paragrav-paks embedded beneath his shoulder blades held him motionless above Newyork's three administrative towers. They don't teach them about their own city, that they'll be fighting for. Two black paragrav-boats whirred along the translucent underside of Newyork's anti-missile force-shield, the Shell. Lane somersaulted. Cybrain had taken charge of his motor nerves. A predatory excitement rippled through him as he sailed down through the air. Lane dropped lightly to the floor, inside the room, in battle-crouch. "Lashing police with his vibray," said the announcer, "Lane broke through the cordon surrounding Manhattan Armory. Tammany Hall has warned that this man is extremely dangerous. Citizens are cautioned to keep clear of him. Lane is an insane killer. A built-in electronic brain controls his reflexes—" "At ease with that jazz," said Lane, and a sheathed finger snapped out. Lane's mailed hand snapped open a pouch at his belt. The force-bomb "exploded"—swelled or inflated, really, but with the speed of a blast. It shaded the view from his window and re-entered the tower wall just below. Orange or green is the action. If you've never heard of diplomatic immunity, you'll suffer for your ignorance."
 She pities him.
 She pities him.  She is terrified he'll kill her if she doesn't.  She likes Lane.  He is trying to save her life.