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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20796-8.txt b/20796-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..155bd77 --- /dev/null +++ b/20796-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6140 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Colors of Space, by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Colors of Space + +Author: Marion Zimmer Bradley + +Release Date: March 11, 2007 [EBook #20796] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COLORS OF SPACE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + _A Juvenile Science Fiction Novel_ + + THE COLORS OF SPACE + + Marion Zimmer Bradley + + + + +MONARCH BOOKS, INC. +Derby, Connecticut + +Published in August, 1963 +Copyright 1963 by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +[Transcriber's note: This is a rule 6 clearance. PG has not been able +to find a copyright renewal.] + +_Cover Painting by Ralph Brillhart_ + +Monarch Books are published by MONARCH BOOKS, INC., Capital Building, +Derby, Connecticut, and represent the works of outstanding novelists and +writers of non-fiction especially chosen for their literary merit and +reading entertainment. + +Printed in the United States of America +All Rights Reserved + + + + +To +DAVID STEPHEN + + + + +SUDDEN PANIC + + +It was a week before the Lhari ship went into warp-drive, and all that +time young Bart Steele had stayed in his cabin. He was so bored with his +own company that the Mentorian medic was a welcome sight when he came to +prepare him for _cold-sleep_. + +The Mentorian paused, needle in hand. "Do you wish to be wakened for the +time we shall spend in each of the three star systems, sir? You can, of +course, be given enough drug to keep you in cold-sleep until we reach +your destination." + +Bart felt tempted--he wanted very much to see the other star systems. +But he couldn't risk meeting other passengers. + +The needle went into his arm. In sudden panic, he realized he was +helpless. The ship would touch down on three worlds, and on any of them +the Lhari might have his description, or his alias! He could be taken +off, unconscious, and might never wake up! He tried to move, to protest, +but he couldn't. There was a freezing moment of intense cold and then +nothing.... + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + + +The Lhari spaceport didn't belong on Earth. + +Bart Steele had thought that, a long time ago, when he first saw it. He +had been just a kid then; twelve years old, and all excited about seeing +Earth for the first time--Earth, the legendary home of mankind before +the Age of Space, the planet of Bart's far-back ancestors. And the first +thing he'd seen on Earth, when he got off the starship, was the Lhari +spaceport. + +And he'd thought, right then, _It doesn't belong on Earth._ + +He'd said so to his father, and his father's face had gone strange, +bitter and remote. + +"A lot of people would agree with you, Son," Captain Rupert Steele had +said softly. "The trouble is, if the Lhari spaceport wasn't on Earth, we +wouldn't be on Earth either. Remember that." + +Bart remembered it, five years later, as he got off the strip of moving +sidewalk. He turned to wait for Tommy Kendron, who was getting his +baggage off the center strip of the moving roadway. Bart Steele and +Tommy Kendron had graduated together, the day before, from the Space +Academy of Earth. Now Tommy, who had been born on the ninth planet of +the star Capella, was taking the Lhari starship to his faraway home, and +Bart's father was coming back to Earth, on the same starship, to meet +his son. + +_Five years,_ Bart thought. _That's a long time. I wonder if Dad will +know me?_ + +"Let me give you a hand with that stuff, Tommy." + +"I can manage," Tommy chuckled, hefting the plastic cases. "They don't +allow you much baggage weight on the Lhari ships. Certainly not more +than I can handle." + +The two lads stood in front of the spaceport gate for a minute. Over the +gate, which was high and pointed and made of some clear colorless +material like glass, was a jagged symbol resembling a flash of +lightning; the sign, in Lhari language, for the home world of the Lhari. + +They walked through the pointed glass gate, and stood for a moment, by +mutual consent, looking down over the vast expanse of the Lhari +spaceport. + +This had once been a great desert. Now it was all floored in with some +strange substance that was neither glass, metal nor concrete; it looked +like gleaming crystal--though it felt soft underfoot--and in the glare +of the noonday sun, it gave back the glare in a million rainbow flashes. +Tommy put his hands up to his eyes to shield them. "The Lhari must have +funny eyes, if they can stand all this glare!" + +Inside the glass gate, a man in a guard's uniform gave them each a pair +of dark glasses. "Put them on now, boys. And don't look directly at the +ship when it lands." + +Tommy hooked the earpieces of the dark glasses over his ears, and sighed +with relief. Bart frowned, but finally put them on. Bart's mother had +been a Mentorian--from the planet Mentor, of the star Deneb, a hundred +times brighter than the sun. Bart had her eyes. But Mentorians weren't +popular on Earth, and Bart had learned to be quiet about his mother. + +Through the dark lenses, the glare was only a pale gleam. Far out in the +very center of the spaceport, a high, clear-glass skyscraper rose, +catching the sunlight in a million colors. Around the building, small +copters and robotcabs veered, discharging passengers; and the moving +sidewalks were crowded with people coming and going. Here and there in +the crowd, standing out because of their height and the silvery metallic +cloaks they wore, were the strange tall figures of the Lhari. + +"Well, how about going down?" Tommy glanced impatiently at his +timepiece. "Less than half an hour before the starship touches down." + +"All right. We can get a sidewalk over here." Reluctantly, Bart tore his +eyes from the fascinating spectacle, and followed Tommy, stepping onto +one of the sidewalks. It bore them down a long, sloping ramp toward the +floor of the spaceport, then sped toward the glass skyscraper; came to +rest at the wide pointed doors, depositing them in the midst of the +crowd. The jagged lightning flash was there over the doors of the +building, and the words: + + HERE, BY THE GRACE OF THE LHARI, IS THE DOORWAY TO ALL THE STARS. + +Bart remembered, as if it were yesterday, how he and his father had +first passed through this doorway. And his father, looking up, had said +under his breath "Not for always, Son. Someday men will have a doorway +to the stars, and the Lhari won't be standing in the door." + +Inside the building, it was searingly bright. The high open rotunda was +filled with immense mirrors, and glass ramps running up and down, moving +staircases, confusing signs and flashing lights on tall oddly shaped +pillars. The place was crowded with men from all over the planet, but +the dark glasses they all wore gave them a strange sort of family +resemblance. + +Tommy said, "I'd better check my reservations." + +Bart nodded. "Meet you on the upper level later," he said, and got on a +moving staircase that soared slowly upward, past level after level, +toward the information desk located on the topmost mezzanine. + +The staircase moved slowly, and Bart had plenty of time to see +everything. On the step immediately in front of him, two Lhari were +standing; with their backs turned, they might almost have been men. +Unusually tall, unusually thin, but men. Then Bart amended that +mentally. The Lhari had two arms, two legs and a head apiece--they were +that much like men. Their faces had two eyes, two ears, and a nose and +mouth, all in the right places. But the similarity ended there. + +They had skin of a curious pale silvery gray, and pale, pure-white hair +rising in what looked like a feathery crest. The eyes were long and +slanting, the forehead high and narrow, the nose delicately thin and +chiseled with long vertically slit nostrils, the ears long, pointed and +lobeless. The mouth looked almost human, though the chin was abnormally +pointed. The hands would almost have passed inspection as human +hands--except for the long, triangular nails curved over the fingertips +like the claws of a cat. They wore skin-tight clothes of some metallic +silky stuff, and long flowing gleaming silvery capes. They looked +unearthly, elfin and strange, and in their own way they were beautiful. + +The two Lhari in front of Bart had been talking softly, in their fast +twittering speech; but as the hum of the crowds on the upper levels grew +louder, they raised their voices, and Bart could hear what they were +saying. He was a little surprised to find that he could still understand +the Lhari language. He hadn't heard a word of it in years--not since his +Mentorian mother died. The Lhari would never guess that he could +understand their speech. Not one human in a million could speak or +understand a dozen words of Lhari, except the Mentorians. + +"Do you really think that _human_--" the first Lhari spoke the word as +if it were a filthy insult--"will have the temerity to come in by this +ship?" + +"No reasonable being can tell what _humans_ will do," said the second +Lhari. "But then, no reasonable being can tell what our own Port +Authorities will do either! If the message had only reached us sooner, +it would have been easier. Now I suppose it will have to clear through a +dozen officials and a dozen different kinds of formalities." + +The younger Lhari sounded angry. "And we have only a description--no +name, nothing! How do they expect us to do anything under those +conditions? What I can't understand is how it ever happened, or how the +man managed to get away. What worries me is the possibility that he may +have communicated with others we don't know about. Those bungling fools +who let the first man get away can't even be sure--" + +"Do not speak of it here," said the old Lhari sharply. "There are +Mentorians in the crowd who might understand us." He turned and looked +straight at Bart, and Bart felt as if the slanted strange eyes were +looking right through to his bones. The Lhari said, in Universal, "Who +are you, boy? What iss your businesssses here?" + +Bart replied in the same language, politely, "My father's coming in on +this ship. I'm looking for the information desk." + +"Up there," said the old Lhari, pointing with a clawed hand, and lost +interest in Bart. He said to his companion, in their own language, +"Always, I regret these episodes. I have no malice against humans. I +suppose even this Vegan that we are seeking has young, and a mate, who +will regret his loss." + +"Then he should not have pried into Lhari matters," said the younger +Lhari fiercely. "If they'd killed him right away--" + +The soaring staircase swooped up to the top level; the two Lhari stepped +off and mingled swiftly with the crowd, being lost to sight. Bart +whistled in dismay as he got off and turned toward the information desk. +A Vegan! Some poor guy from his own planet was in trouble with the +Lhari. He felt a cold, crawling chill down his insides. The Lhari had +spoken regretfully, but the way they'd speak of a fly they couldn't +manage to swat fast enough. Sooner or later you had to get down to it, +they just weren't human! + +Here on Earth, nothing much could happen, of course. They wouldn't let +the Lhari hurt anyone--then Bart remembered his course in Universal Law. +The Lhari spaceport in every system, by treaty, was Lhari territory. +Once you walked beneath the lightning-flash sign, the authority of the +planet ceased to function; you might as well be on that unbelievably +remote world in another galaxy that was the Lhari home planet--that +world no human had ever seen. On a Lhari spaceport, or on a Lhari ship, +you were under the jurisdiction of Lhari law. + +Tommy stepped off a moving stair and joined him. "The ship's on time--it +reported past Luna City a few minutes ago. I'm thirsty--how about a +drink?" + +There was a refreshment stand on this level; they debated briefly +between orange juice and a drink with a Lhari name that meant simply +_cold sweet_, and finally decided to try it. The name proved +descriptive; it was very cold, very sweet and indescribably delicious. + +"Does this come from the Lhari world, I wonder?" + +"I imagine it's synthetic," Bart said. + +"I suppose it won't _hurt_ us?" + +Bart laughed. "They wouldn't serve it to us if it would. No, men and +Lhari are alike in a lot of ways. They breathe the same air. Eat about +the same food." Their bodies were adjusted to about the same gravity. +They had the same body chemistry--in fact, you couldn't tell Lhari blood +from human, even under a microscope. And in the terrible Orion Spaceport +wreck sixty years ago, doctors had found that blood plasma from humans +could be used for wounded Lhari, and vice versa, though it wasn't safe +to transfuse whole blood. But then, even among humans there were five +blood types. + +And yet, for all their likeness, they were _different_. + +Bart sipped the cold Lhari drink, seeing himself in the mirror behind +the refreshment stand; a tall teen-ager, looking older than his +seventeen years. He was lithe and well muscled from five years of sports +and acrobatics at the Space Academy, he had curling red hair and gray +eyes, and he was almost as tall as a Lhari. + +_Will Dad know me? I was just a little kid when he left me here, and now +I'm grown-up._ + +Tommy grinned at him in the mirror. "What are you going to do, now we've +finished our so-called education?" + +"What do you think? Go back to Vega with Dad, by Lhari ship, and help +him run Vega Interplanet. Why else would I bother with all that +astrogation and math?" + +"You're the lucky one, with your father owning a dozen ships! He must be +almost as rich as the Lhari." + +Bart shook his head. "It's not that easy. Space travel inside a system +these days is small stuff; all the real travel and shipping goes to the +Lhari ships." + +It was a sore point with everyone. Thousands of years ago, men had +spread out from Earth--first to the planets, then to the nearer stars, +crawling in ships that could travel no faster than the speed of light. +They had even believed that was an absolute limit--that nothing in the +universe could exceed the speed of light. It took years to go from Earth +to the nearest star. + +But they'd done it. From the nearer stars, they had sent out colonizing +ships all through the galaxy. Some vanished and were never heard from +again, but some made it, and in a few centuries man had spread all over +hundreds of star-systems. + +And then man met the people of the Lhari. + +It was a big universe, with measureless millions of stars, and plenty of +room for more than two intelligent civilizations. It wasn't surprising +that the Lhari, who had only been traveling space for a couple of +thousand years themselves, had never come across humans before. But they +had been delighted to meet another intelligent race--and it was +extremely profitable. + +Because men were still held, mostly, to the planets of their own +star-systems. Ships traveling between the stars by light-drive were rare +and ruinously expensive. But the Lhari had the warp-drive, and almost +overnight the whole picture changed. By warp-drive, hundreds of times +faster than light at peak, the years-long trip between Vega and Earth, +for instance, was reduced to about three months, at a price anyone could +pay. Mankind could trade and travel all over their galaxy, but they did +it on Lhari ships. The Lhari had an absolute, unbreakable monopoly on +star travel. + +"That's what hurts," Tommy said. "It wouldn't do us any good to have the +star-drive. Humans can't stand faster-than-light travel, except in +cold-sleep." + +Bart nodded. The Lhari ships traveled at normal speeds, like the regular +planetary ships, inside each star-system. Then, at the borders of the +vast gulf of emptiness between stars, they went into warp-drive; but +first, every human on board was given the cold-sleep treatment that +placed them in suspended animation, allowing their bodies to endure the +warp-drive. + +He finished his drink. The increasing bustle in the crowds below them +told him that time must be getting short. A tall, impressive-looking +Lhari strode through the crowd, followed at a respectful distance by two +Mentorians, tall, redheaded humans wearing metallic cloaks like those of +the Lhari. Tommy nudged Bart, his face bitter. + +"Look at those lousy Mentorians! How can they do it? Fawning upon the +Lhari that way, yet they're as human as we are! _Slaves_ of the Lhari!" + +Bart felt the involuntary surge of anger, instantly controlled. "It's +not that way at all. My mother was a Mentorian, remember. She made five +cruises on a Lhari ship before she married my father." + +Tommy sighed. "I guess I'm just jealous--to think the Mentorians can +sign on the Lhari ship as crew, while you and I will never pilot a ship +between the stars. What did she do?" + +"She was a mathematician. Before the Lhari met up with men, they used a +system of mathematics as clumsy as the old Roman numerals. You have to +admire them, when you realize that they learned stellar navigation with +their old system, though most ships use human math now. And of course, +you know their eyes aren't like ours. Among other things, they're +color-blind. They see everything in shades of black or white or gray. + +"So they found out that humans aboard their ships were useful. You +remember how humans, in the early days in space, used certain birds, who +were more sensitive to impure air than they were. When the birds keeled +over, they could tell it was time for humans to start looking over the +air systems! The Lhari use Mentorians to identify colors for them. And, +since Mentor was the first planet of humans that the Lhari had contact +with, they've always been closer to them." + +Tommy looked after the two Mentorians enviously. "The fact is, I'd ship +out with the Lhari myself if I could. Wouldn't you?" + +Bart's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "No," he said. "I could--I'm half +Mentorian, I can even speak Lhari." + +"Why don't you? I would." + +"Oh, no, you wouldn't," Bart said softly. "Not even very many Mentorians +will. You see, the Lhari don't trust humans too much. In the early days, +men were always planting spies on Lhari ships, to try and steal the +secret of warp-drive. They never managed it, but nowadays the Lhari give +all the Mentorians what amounts to a brainwashing--deep hypnosis, before +and after every voyage, so that they can neither look for anything that +might threaten the Lhari monopoly of space, nor reveal it--even under a +truth drug--if they find it out. + +"You have to be pretty fanatical about space travel to go through that. +Oh, my mother could tell us a lot of things about her cruises with the +Lhari. The Lhari can't tell a diamond from a ruby, except by +spectrographic analysis, for instance. And she--" + +A high gong note sounded somewhere, touching off an explosion of warning +bells and buzzers all over the enormous building. Bart looked up. + +"The ship must be coming in to land." + +"I'd better check into the passenger side," Tommy said. He stuck out his +hand. "Well, Bart, I guess this is where we say good-bye." + +They shook hands, their eyes meeting for a moment in honest grief. In +some indefinable way, this parting marked the end of their boyhood. + +"Good luck, Tom. I'm going to miss you." + +They wrung each other's hands again, hard. Then Tommy picked up his +luggage and started down a sloping ramp toward an enclosure marked TO +PASSENGER ENTRANCE. + +Warning bells rang again. The glare intensified until the glow in the +sky was unendurable, but Bart looked anyhow, making out the strange +shape of the Lhari ship from the stars. + +It was huge and strange, glowing with colors Bart had never seen before. +It settled down slowly, softly: enormous, silent, vibrating, glowing; +then swiftly faded to white-hot, gleaming blue, dulling down through the +visible spectrum to red. At last it was just gleaming glassy Lhari-metal +color again. High up in the ship's side a yawning gap slid open, +extruding stairsteps, and men and Lhari began to descend. + +Bart ran down a ramp and surged out on the field with the crowd. His +eyes, alert for his father's tall figure, noted with surprise that the +ship's stairs were guarded by four cloaked Lhari, each with a Mentorian +interpreter. They were stopping each person who got off the starship, +asking for identity papers. Bart realized he was seeing another segment +of the same drama he had overheard discussed, and wished he knew what it +was all about. + +The crowd was thinning now. Robotcabs were swerving in, hovering above +the ground to pick up passengers, then veering away. The gap in the +starship's side was closing, and still Bart had not seen the tall, slim, +flame-haired figure of his father. The port on the other side of the +ship, he knew, was for loading passengers. Bart moved carefully through +the thinning crowd, almost to the foot of the stairs. One of the Lhari +checking papers stopped and fixed him with an inscrutable gray stare, +but finally turned away again. + +Bart began really to worry. Captain Steele would never miss his ship! +But he saw only one disembarking passenger who had not yet been +surrounded by a group of welcoming relatives, or summoned a robotcab and +gone. The man was wearing Vegan clothes, but he wasn't Bart's father. He +was a fat little man, with ruddy cheeks and a fringe of curling gray +hair all around his bald dome. _Maybe he'd know if there was another +Vegan on the ship._ + +Then Bart realized that the little fat man was staring straight at him. +He returned the man's smile, rather hesitantly; then blinked, for the +fat man was coming straight toward him. + +"Hello, Son," the fat man said loudly. Then, as two of the Lhari started +toward him, the strange man did an incredible thing. He reached out his +two hands and grabbed Bart. + +"Well, boy, you've sure grown," he said, in a loud, cheerful voice, "but +you're not too grown-up to give your old Dad a good hug, are you?" He +pulled Bart roughly into his arms. Bart started to pull away and stammer +that the fat man had made a mistake, but the pudgy hand gripped his +wrist with unexpected strength. + +"Bart, listen to me," the stranger whispered, in a harsh fast voice. "Go +along with this or we're both dead. See those two Lhari watching us? +Call me Dad, good and loud, if you want to live. Because, believe me, +your life's in danger--right now!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +For a moment, pulled off balance in the fat stranger's hug, Bart +remained perfectly still, while the man repeated in that loud, jovial +voice, "How you've grown!" He let him go, stepping away a pace or two, +and whispered urgently, "Say something. And take that stupid look off +your face." + +As he stepped back, Bart saw his eyes. In the chubby, good-natured red +face, the stranger's eyes were half-mad with fear. + +In a split second, Bart remembered the two Lhari and their talk of a +fugitive. In that moment, Bart Steele grew up. + +He stepped toward the man and took him quickly by the shoulders. + +"Dad, you sure surprised me," he said, trying to keep his voice from +shaking. "Been such a long time, I'd--half forgotten what you looked +like. Have a good trip?" + +"About like always." The fat man was breathing hard, but his voice +sounded firm and cheerful. "Can't compare with a trip on the old +_Asterion_ though." The _Asterion_ was the flagship of Vega Interplanet, +Rupert Steele's own ship. "How's everything?" + +Beads of sweat were standing out on the man's ruddy forehead, and his +grip on Bart's wrist was so hard it hurt. Bart, grasping at random for +something to say, gabbled, "Too bad you couldn't get to my graduation. I +made th-third in a class of four hundred--" + +The Lhari had surrounded them and were closing in. + +The fat man took a deep breath or two, said, "Just a minute, Son," and +turned around. "You want something?" + +The tallest of the Lhari--the old one, whom Bart had seen on the +escalator--looked long and hard at him. When they spoke Universal, their +voices were sibilant, but not nearly so inhuman. + +"Could we trrrouble you to sssshow us your paperrrssss?" + +"Certainly." Nonchalantly, the fat man dug them out and handed them +over. Bart saw his father's name printed across the top. + +The Lhari gestured to a Mentorian interpreter: "What colorrr isss thisss +man's hairrr?" + +The Mentorian said in the Lhari language, "His hair is _gray_." He used +the Universal word; there were, of course, no words for colors in the +Lhari speech. + +"The man we sssseek has hair of _red_," said the Lhari. "And he isss +tall, not fat." + +"The boy is tall and with _red_ hair," the Mentorian volunteered, and +the old Lhari made a gesture of disdain. + +"This boy is twenty years younger than the man whose description came to +us. Why did they not give us a picture or at least a name?" He turned to +the other Lhari and said in their own shrill speech, "I suspected this +man because he was alone. And I had seen this boy on the upper mezzanine +and spoken with him. We watched him, knowing sooner or later the father +would seek him. Ask him." He gestured and the Mentorian said, "Who is +this man, you?" + +Bart gulped. For the first time he noted the energon-ray shockers at the +belts of the four Lhari. He'd heard about those. They could stun--or +they could kill, and quite horribly. He said, "This is my father. You +want my cards, too?" He hauled out his identity papers. "My name's Bart +Steele." + +The Lhari, with a gesture of disgust, handed them back. "Go, then, +father and son," he said, not unkindly. + +"Let's get going, Son," said the little bald man. His hand shook on +Bart's, and Bart thought, _If we're lucky, we can get out of the port +before he faints dead away._ He said "I'll get a copter," and then, +feeling sorry for the stranger, gave him his arm to lean on. He didn't +know whether he was worried or scared. _Where was his father?_ Why did +this man have his dad's papers? Was his father hiding inside the Lhari +ship? He wanted to run, to burst away from the imposter, but the guy was +shaking so hard Bart couldn't just leave him standing there. If the +Lhari got him, he was a dead duck. + +A copter swooped down, the pilot signaling. The little man said +hoarsely, "No. Robotcab." + +Bart waved the copter away, getting a dirty look from the pilot, and +punched a button at the stand for one of the unmanned robotcabs. It +swung down, hovered motionless. Bart boosted the fat man in. Inside, the +man collapsed on the seat, leaning back, puffing, his hand pressed hard +to his chest. + +"Punch a combo for Denver," he said hoarsely. + +Bart obeyed, automatically. Then he turned on the man. + +"It's your game, mister! Now tell me what's going on? _Where's my +father?_" + +The man's eyes were half-shut. He said, gasping, "Don't ask me any +questions for a minute." He thumbed a tablet into his mouth, and +presently his breathing quieted. + +"We're safe--for the minute. Those Lhari would have cut us down." + +"You, maybe. I haven't done anything. Look, you," Bart said in sudden +rage, "you owe me some explanations. For all I know, you're a criminal +and the Lhari have every right to chase you! Why have you got my +father's papers? Did you steal them to get away from the Lhari? _Where's +my father?_" + +"It's your father they were looking for, you young fool," said the man, +gasping hard. "Lucky they had only a description and not a name--but +they've probably got that by now, uncoded. We've only confused them for +a little while. But if you hadn't played along, they'd have had you +watched, and when they get hold of the name Steele--they will, sooner or +later, the people in the Procyon system--" + +_"Where is my father?"_ + +"I hope I don't know," the fat man said. "If he's still where I left +him, he's dead. My name is Briscoe. Edmund Briscoe. Your father saved my +life years ago, never mind how. The less you know, the safer you'll be +for a while. His major worry just now is about you. He was afraid, if he +didn't turn up here, you'd take the first ship back to Vega. So he gave +me his papers and sent me to warn you--" + +Bart shook his head. "It all sounds phony as can be. How do I know +whether to believe you or not?" His hand hovered over the robotcab +controls. "We're going straight to the police. If you're okay, they +won't turn you over to the Lhari. If you're not--" + +"You young fool," said the fat man, with feeble violence, "there's no +_time_ for all that! Ask me questions--I can prove I know your father!" + +"What was my mother's name?" + +"Oh, God," Briscoe said, "I never saw her. I knew your father long +before you were born. Until he told me, I never knew he'd married or +had a son. I'd never have known you, except that you're the living +image--" He shook his head helplessly, and his breathing sounded hoarse. + +"Bart, I'm a sick man, I'm going to die. I want to do what I came here +to do, because your father saved my life once when I was young and +healthy, and gave me twenty good years before I got old and fat and +sick. Win or lose, I won't live to see you hunted down like a dog, like +my own son--" + +"Don't talk like that," Bart said, a creepy feeling coming over him. "If +you're sick, let me take you to a doctor." + +Briscoe did not even hear. "Wait, there is something else. Your father +said, 'Tell Bart I've gone looking for the Eighth Color. Bart will know +what I mean.'" + +"That's crazy. I don't know--" + +He broke off, for the memory had come, full-blown: + +_He was very young: five, six, seven. His mother, tall and slender and +very fair, was bending over a blueprint, pointing with a delicate finger +at something, straightening, saying in her light musical voice:_ + +_"The fuel catalyst--it's a strange color, a color you never saw +anywhere. Can you_ think _of a color that isn't red, orange, yellow, +green, blue, violet, indigo or some combination of them? It isn't any of +the colors of the spectrum at all. The fuel is a real eighth color."_ + +_And his father had used the phrase, almost adopted it. "When we know +what the eighth color is, we'll have the secret of the star-drive, +too!"_ + +Briscoe saw his face change, nodded weakly. "I see it means something to +you. Now will you do as I tell you? Within a couple of hours, they'll be +combing the planet for you, but by that time the ship I came in on will +have taken off again. They only stop a short time here, for mail, +passengers--no cargo. They may get under way again before all messages +are cleared and decoded." He stopped and breathed hard. "The Earth +authorities might protect you, but you would never be able to board a +Lhari ship again--and that would mean staying on Earth for the rest of +your life. You've got to get away before they start comparing notes. +Here." His hand went into his pockets. "For your hair. It's a dye--a +spray." + +He pressed a button on the bulb in his hand; Bart gasped, feeling cold +wetness on his head. His own hand came away stained black. + +"Keep still." Briscoe said irritably. "You'll need it at the Procyon end +of the run. Here." He stuck some papers into Bart's hand, then punched +some buttons on the robotcab's control. It wheeled and swerved so +rapidly that Bart fell against the fat man's shoulder. + +"Are you crazy? What are you going to do?" + +Briscoe looked straight into Bart's eyes. In his hoarse, sick voice, he +said, "Bart, don't worry about me. It's all over for me, whatever +happens. Just remember this. What your father is doing is _worth_ doing, +and if you start stalling, arguing, demanding explanations, you can foul +up a hundred people--and kill about half of them." + +He closed Bart's fingers roughly over the papers. The robotcab hovered +over the spaceport. "Now listen to me, very carefully. When I stop the +cab, down below, jump out. Don't stop to say good-bye, or ask questions, +or anything else. Just get out, walk straight through the passenger door +and straight up the ramp of the ship. Show them that ticket, and get on. +Whatever happens, don't let anything stop you. Bart!" Briscoe shook his +shoulder. "Promise! Whatever happens, you'll _get on that ship_!" + +Bart swallowed, feeling as if he'd been shoved into a silly +cops-and-robbers game. But Briscoe's urgency had convinced him. "Where +am I going?" + +"All I have is a name--Raynor Three," Briscoe said, "and the message +about the Eighth Color. That's all I know." His mouth twisted again in +that painful gasp. + +The cab swooped down. Bart found his voice. "But what then? Is Dad +there? Will I know--" + +"I don't know any more than I've told you," Briscoe said. Abruptly the +robotcab came to a halt, swaying a little. Briscoe jerked the door open, +gave Bart a push, and Bart found himself stumbling out on the ramp +beside the spaceport building. He caught his balance, looked around, and +realized that the robotcab was already climbing the sky again. + +Immediately before him, neon letters spelled TO PASSENGER ENTRANCE +ONLY. Bart stumbled forward. The Lhari by the gate thrust out a +disinterested claw. Bart held up what Briscoe had shoved into his hand, +only now seeing that it was a thin wallet, a set of identity papers and a +strip of pink tickets. + +"Procyon Alpha. Corridor B, straight through." The Lhari gestured, and +Bart went through the narrow passageway, came out at the other end, and +found himself at the very base of a curving stair that led up and up +toward a door in the side of the huge Lhari ship. Bart hesitated. In +another minute he'd be on his way to a strange sun and a strange world, +on what might well be the wild-goose chase of all time. + +Passengers were crowding the steps behind him. Someone shouted suddenly, +"Look at that!" and someone else yelled, "Is that guy crazy?" + +Bart looked up. A robotcab was swooping over the spaceport in wild, +crazy circles, dipping down, suddenly making a dart like an enraged wasp +at a little nest of Lhari. They ducked and scattered; the robotcab +swerved away, hovered, swooped back. This time it struck one of the +Lhari grazingly with landing gear and knocked him sprawling. Bart stood +with his mouth open, as if paralyzed. + +_Briscoe! What was he doing?_ + +The fallen Lhari lay without moving. The robotcab moved in again, as if +for the kill, buzzing viciously overhead. + +Then a beam of light arced from one of the drawn energon-ray tubes. The +robotcab glowed briefly red, then seemed to sag, sink together; then +puddled, a slag heap of molten metal, on the glassy floor of the port. A +little moan of horror came from the crowd, and Bart felt a sudden, +wrenching sickness. It had been like a game, a silly game of cops and +robbers, and suddenly it was as serious as melted death lying there on +the spaceport. _Briscoe!_ + +Someone shoved him and said, "Come on, quit gawking, kid. They won't +hold the ship all day just because some nut finds a new way to commit +suicide." + +Bart, his legs numb, walked up the ramp. Briscoe had died to give him +this chance. Now it was up to him to make it worth having. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +At the top of the ramp, a Lhari glanced briefly at his papers, motioned +him through. Bart passed through the airlock, and into a brightly lit +corridor half full of passengers. The line was moving slowly, and for +the first time Bart had a chance to think. + +He had never seen violent death before. In this civilized world, you +didn't. He knew if he thought about Briscoe, he'd start bawling like a +baby, so he swallowed hard a couple of times, set his chin, and +concentrated on the trip to Procyon Alpha. That meant this ship was +outbound on the Aldebaran run--Proxima Centauri, Sirius, Pollux, +Procyon, Capella and Aldebaran. + +The line of passengers was disappearing through a doorway. A woman ahead +of Bart turned and said nervously, "We won't be put into cold-sleep +right away, will we?" + +He reassured her, remembering his inbound trip five years ago. "No, no. +The ship won't go into warp-drive until we're well past Pluto. It will +be several days, at least." + +Beyond the doorway the lights dwindled, and a Mentorian interpreter took +his dark glasses, saying, "Kindly remove your belt, shoes and other +accessories of leather or metal before stepping into the decontamination +chamber. They will be separately decontaminated and returned to you. +Papers, please." + +With a small twinge of fright, Bart surrendered them. Would the +Mentorian ask why he was carrying two wallets? Inside the other one, he +still had his Academy ID card which identified him as Bart Steele, and +if the Mentorian looked through them to check, and found out he was +carrying two sets of identity papers.... + +But the Mentorian merely dumped all his pocket paraphernalia, without +looking at it, into a sack. "Just step through here." + +Holding up his trousers with both hands, Bart stepped inside the +indicated cubicle. It was filled with faint bluish light. Bart felt a +strong tingling and a faint electrical smell, and along his forearms +there was a slight prickling where the small hairs were all standing on +end. He knew that the invisible R-rays were killing all the +microorganisms in his body, so that no disease germ or stray fungus +would be carried from planet to planet. + +The bluish light died. Outside, the Mentorian gave him back his shoes +and belt, handed him the paper sack of his belongings, and a paper cup +full of greenish fluid. + +"Drink this." + +"What is it?" + +The medic said patiently, "Remember, the R-rays killed _all_ the +microorganisms in your body, including the good ones--the antibodies +that protect you against disease, and the small yeasts and bacteria that +live in your intestines and help in the digestion of your food. So we +have to replace those you need to stay healthy. See?" + +The green stuff tasted a little brackish, but Bart got it down all +right. He didn't much like the idea of drinking a solution of "germs," +but he knew that was silly. There was a big difference between disease +germs and helpful bacteria. + +Another Mentorian official, this one a young woman, gave him a key with +a numbered tag, and a small booklet with WELCOME ABOARD printed +on the cover. + +The tag was numbered 246-B, which made Bart raise his eyebrows. B class +was normally too expensive for Bart's father's modest purse. It wasn't +quite the luxury class A, reserved for planetary governors and +ambassadors, but it was plenty luxurious. Briscoe had certainly sent him +traveling in style! + +B Deck was a long corridor with oval doors; Bart found one numbered 246, +and, not surprisingly, the key opened it. It was a pleasant little +cabin, measuring at least six feet by eight, and he would evidently have +it to himself. There was a comfortably big bunk, a light that could be +turned on and off instead of the permanent glow-walls of the cheaper +class, a private shower and toilet, and a placard on the walls informing +him that passengers in B class had the freedom of the Observation Dome +and the Recreation Lounge. There was even a row of buttons dispensing +synthetic foods, in case a passenger preferred privacy or didn't want to +wait for meals in the dining hall. + +A buzzer sounded and a Mentorian voice announced, "Five minutes to Room +Check. Passengers will please remove all metal in their clothing, and +deposit in the lead drawers. Passengers will please recline in their +bunks and fasten the retaining straps before the steward arrives. +Repeat, passengers will please...." + +Bart took off his belt, stuck it and his cuff links in the drawer and +lay down. Then, in a sudden panic, he got up again. His papers as Bart +Steele were still in the sack. He got them out, and with a feeling as if +he were crossing a bridge and burning it after him, tore up every scrap +of paper that identified him as Bart Steele of Vega Four, graduate of +the Space Academy of Earth. Now, for better or worse, he was--who _was_ +he? He hadn't even looked at the new papers Briscoe had given him! + +He glanced through them quickly. They were made out to David Warren +Briscoe, of Aldebaran Four. According to them, David Briscoe was twenty +years old, hair black, eyes hazel, height six foot one inch. Bart +wondered, painfully, if Briscoe had a son and if David Briscoe knew +where his father was. There was also a license, validated with four runs +on the Aldebaran Intrasatellite Cargo Company--planetary ships--with the +rank of Apprentice Astrogator; and a considerable sum of money. + +Bart put the papers in his pants pocket and the torn-up scraps of his +old ones into the trashbin before he realized that they looked exactly +like what they were--torn-up legal identity papers and a broken plastic +card. _Nobody_ destroyed identity papers for any good reason. What could +he do? + +Then he remembered something from the Academy. Starships were +closed-system cycles, no waste was discarded, but everything was +collected in big chemical tanks, broken down to separate elements, +purified and built up again into new materials. He threw the paper into +the toilet, worked the plastic card back and forth, back and forth until +he had wrenched it into inch-wide bits, and threw it after them. + +The cabin door opened and a Mentorian said irritably, "Please lie down +and fasten your straps. I haven't all day." + +Hastily Bart flushed the toilet and went to the bunk. Now everything +that could identify him as Bart Steele was on its way to the breakdown +tanks. Before long, the complex hydrocarbons and cellulose would all be +innocent little molecules of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen; they might turn +up in new combinations as sugar on the table! + +The Mentorian grumbled, "You young people think the rules mean everybody +but you," and strapped him far too tightly into the bunk. Bart felt +resentful; just because Mentorians could work on Lhari ships, did they +have to act as if they owned everybody? + +When the man had gone, Bart drew a deep breath. Was he really doing the +right thing? + +If he'd refused to get out of the robotcab-- + +If he'd driven Briscoe straight to the police-- + +Then maybe Briscoe would still be alive. And now it was too late. + +A warning siren went off in the ship, rising to hysterical intensity. +Bart thought, incredulously, _this is really happening_. It felt like a +nightmare. His father a fugitive from the Lhari. Briscoe dead. He +himself traveling, with forged papers, to a star he'd never seen. + +He braced himself, knowing the siren was the last warning before +takeoff. First there would be the hum of great turbines deep in the +ship, then the crushing surge of acceleration. He had made a dozen trips +inside the solar system, but no matter how often he did it, there was +the strange excitement, the little pinpoint of fear, like an exotic +taste, that was almost pleasant. + +The door opened and Bart grabbed a fistful of bed-ticking as two Lhari +came into the room. + +One of them said, in their strange shrill speech, "This boy is the right +age." + +Bart froze. + +"You're seeing spies in every corner, Ransell," said the other, then in +Universal, "Could we trrouble you for your paperesses, sirr?" + +Bart, strapped down and helpless, moved his head toward the drawer, +hoping his face did not betray his fear. He watched the two Lhari riffle +through his papers with their odd pointed claws. + +"What isss your planet?" + +Bart bit his lip, hard--he had almost said, "Vega Four." + +"Aldebaran Four." + +The Lhari said in his own language, "We should have Margil in here. He +actually saw them." + +The other replied, "But I saw the machine that disintegrated. I still +say there was enough protoplasm residue for two bodies." + +Bart fought to keep his face perfectly straight. + +"Did anyone come into your cabin?" The Lhari asked in Universal. + +"Only the steward. Why? Is something wrong?" + +"There iss some thought that a stowaway might be on boarrd. Of courrrse +we could not allow that, anyone not prrroperly prrotected would die in +the first shift into warp-drive." + +"Just the steward," Bart said again. "A Mentorian." + +The Lhari said, eying him keenly, "You are ill? Or discommoded?" + +Bart grasped at random for an excuse. "That--that stuff the medic made +me drink made me feel--sort of sick." + +"You may send for a medical officer after acceleration," said the Lhari +expressionlessly. "The summoning bell is at your left." + +They turned and went out and Bart gulped. Lhari, in person, checking the +passenger decks! Normally you never saw one on board; just Mentorians. +The Lhari treated humans as if they were too dumb to bother about. Well, +at least for once someone was acting as if humans were worthy +antagonists. _We'll show them--someday!_ + +But he felt very alone, and scared.... + +A low hum rose, somewhere in the ship, and Bart grabbed ticking as he +felt the slow surge. Then a violent sense of pressure popped his ear +drums, weight crowded down on him like an elephant sitting on his chest, +and there was a horrible squashed sensation dragging his limbs out of +shape. It grew and grew. Bart lay still and sweated, trying to ease his +uncomfortable position, unable to move so much as a finger. The Lhari +ships hit 12 gravities in the first surge of acceleration. Bart felt as +if he were spreading out, under the weight, into a puddle of +flesh--_melted flesh like Briscoe's_-- + +Bart writhed and bit his lip till he could taste blood, wishing he were +young enough to bawl out loud. + +Abruptly, it eased, and the blood started to flow again in his numbed +limbs. Bart loosened his straps, took a few deep breaths, wiped his +face--wringing wet, whether with sweat or tears he wasn't sure--and sat +up in his bunk. The loudspeaker announced, "Acceleration One is +completed. Passengers on A and B Decks are invited to witness the +passing of the Satellites from the Observation Lounge in half an hour." + +Bart got up and washed his face, remembering that he had no luggage with +him, not so much as a toothbrush. + +At the back of his mind, packed up in a corner, was the continuing worry +about his father, the horror at Briscoe's ghastly death, the fear of the +Lhari; but he slammed the lid firmly on them all. For the moment he was +safe. They might be looking for Bart Steele by now, but they weren't +looking for David Briscoe of Aldebaran. He might just as well relax and +enjoy the trip. He went down to the Observation Lounge. + +It had been darkened, and one whole wall of the room was made of clear +quartzite. Bart drew a deep breath as the vast panorama of space opened +out before him. + +They were receding from the sun at some thousands of miles a minute. +Swirling past the ship, gleaming in the reflected sunlight like iron +filings moving to the motion of a magnet, were the waves upon waves of +cosmic dust--tiny free electrons, ions, particles of gas; free of the +heavier atmosphere, themselves invisible, they formed in their billions +into bright clouds around the ship; pale, swirling veils of mist. And +through their dim shine, the brilliant flares of the fixed stars burned +clear and steady, so far away that even the hurling motion of the ship +could not change their positions. + +One by one he picked out the constellations. Aldebaran swung on the +pendant chain of Taurus like a giant ruby. Orion strode across the sky, +a swirling nebula at his belt. Vega burned, cobalt blue, in the heart of +the Lyre. + +Colors, colors! Inside the atmosphere of Earth's night, the stars had +been pale white sparks against black. Here, against the misty-pale +swirls of cosmic dust, they burned with color heaped on color; the +bloody burning crimson of Antares, the metallic gold of Capella, the +sullen pulsing of Betelgeuse. They burned, each with its own inward +flame and light, like handfuls of burning jewels flung by some giant +hand upon the swirling darkness. It was a sight Bart felt he could watch +forever and still be hungry to see; the never-changing, ever-changing +colors of space. + + * * * * * + +Behind him in the darkness, after a long time, someone said softly, +"Imagine being a Lhari and not being able to see anything out there but +bright or brighter light." + +A bell rang melodiously in the ship and the passengers in the lounge +began to stir and move toward the door, to stretch limbs cramped like +Bart's by tranced watching, to talk quickly of ordinary things. + +"I suppose that bell means dinner," said a vaguely familiar voice at +Bart's elbow. "Synthetics, I suppose, but at least we can all get +acquainted." + +The light from the undarkened hall fell on their faces as they moved +toward the door. "Bart! Why, it can't be!" + +In utter dismay, Bart looked down into the face of Tommy Kendron. + +In the rush of danger, he had absolutely forgotten that Tommy Kendron +was on this ship--to make his alias useless; Tommy was looking at him in +surprise and delight. + +"Why didn't you tell me, or did you and your father decide at the last +minute? Hey, it's great that we can go part way together, at least!" + +Bart knew he must cut this short very quickly. He stepped out into the +full corridor light so that Tommy could see his black hair. + +"I'm sorry, you're confusing me with someone else." + +"Bart, come off it--" Tommy's voice died out. "Sorry, I'd have sworn you +were a friend of mine." + +Bart wondered suddenly, had he done the wrong thing? He had a feeling he +might need a friend. Badly. + +Well, it was too late now. He stared Tommy in the eye and said, "I've +never seen you before in my life." + +Tommy looked deflated. He stepped back slightly, shaking his head. +"Never saw such a resemblance. Are you a Vegan?" + +"No," Bart lied flatly. "Aldebaran. David Briscoe." + +"Glad to know you, Dave." With undiscourageable friendliness, Tommy +stuck out a hand. "Say, that bell means dinner, why don't we go down +together? I don't know a soul on the ship, and it looks like +luck--running into a fellow who could be my best friend's twin brother." + +Bart felt warmed and drawn, but sensibly he knew he could not keep up +the pretense. Sooner or later, he'd give himself away, use some habitual +phrase or gesture Tommy would recognize. + +Should he take a chance--reveal himself to Tommy and ask him to keep +quiet? No. This wasn't a game. One man was already dead. He didn't want +Tommy to be next. + +There was only one way out. He said coldly, "thank you, but I have other +things to attend to. I intend to be very busy all through the voyage." +He spun on his heel and walked away before he could see Tommy's eager, +friendly smile turn hurt and defensive. + +Back in his cabin, he gloomily dialed some synthetic jellies, thinking +with annoyance of the anticipated good food of the dining room. He knew +he couldn't risk meeting Tommy again, and drearily resigned himself to +staying in his cabin. It looked like an awfully boring trip ahead. + +It was. It was a week before the Lhari ship went into warp-drive, and +all that time Bart stayed in his cabin, not daring to go to the +observation Lounge or dining hall. He got tired of eating synthetics +(oh, they were nourishing enough, but they were altogether +uninteresting) and tired of listening to the tapes the room steward got +him from the ship's library. By the time they had been in space a week, +he was so bored with his own company that even the Mentorian medic was a +welcome sight when he came in to prepare him for cold-sleep. + +Bart had had the best education on Earth, but he didn't know precisely +how the Lhari warp-drive worked. He'd been told that only a few of the +Lhari understood it, just as the man who flew a copter didn't need to +understand Newton's Three Laws of Motion in order to get himself back +and forth to work. + +But he knew this much; when the ship generated the frequencies which +accelerated it beyond the speed of light, in effect the ship went into a +sort of fourth dimension, and came out of it a good many light-years +away. As far as Bart knew, no human being had ever survived warp-drive +except in the suspended animation which they called cold-sleep. While +the medic was professionally reassuring him and strapping him in his +bunk, Bart wondered what humans would do with the Lhari star-drive if +they had it. Well, he supposed they could use automation in their ships. + +The Mentorian paused, needle in hand. "Do you wish to be wakened for the +week we shall spend in each of the Proxima, Sirius and Pollux systems, +sir? You can, of course, be given enough drug to keep you in cold-sleep +until we reach the Procyon system." + +Bart wondered if the room steward had mentioned the passenger so bored +with the trip that he didn't even visit the Observation Lounge. He felt +tempted--he was getting awfully tired of staring at the walls. On the +other hand, he wanted very much to see the other star-systems. When he +passed through them on the trip to Earth, he'd been too young to pay +much attention. + +Firmly he put the temptation aside. Better not to risk meeting other +passengers, Tommy especially, if he decided he couldn't take the +boredom. + +The needle went into his arm. He felt himself sinking into sleep, and, +in sudden panic, realized that he was helpless. The ship would touch +down on three worlds, and on any of them the Lhari might have his +description, or his alias! He could be taken off, drugged and +unconscious, and might never wake up! He tried to move, to protest, to +tell them he was changing his mind, but already he was unable to speak. +There was a freezing moment of intense, painful cold. Then he was +floating in what felt like waves of cosmic dust, swirling many-colored +before his eyes. And then there was nothing, no color, nothing at all +except the nowhere night of sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +Bart felt cold. He stirred, moved his head in drowsy protest; then +memory came flooding back, and in sudden panic he sat up, flinging out +his arms as if to ward away anyone who would lay hands on him. + +"Easy!" said a soothing voice. A Mentorian--not the same Mentorian--bent +over him. "We have just entered the gravitational field of Procyon +planet Alpha, Mr. Briscoe. Touchdown in four hours." + +Bart mumbled an apology. + +"Think nothing of it. Quite a number of people who aren't used to the +cold-sleep drug suffer from minor lapses of memory. How do you feel +now?" + +Bart's legs were numb and his hands tingled when he sat up; but his body +processes had been slowed so much by the cold-sleep that he didn't even +feel hungry; the synthetic jelly he'd eaten just before going to sleep +wasn't even digested yet. + +When the Mentorian left for another cabin, Bart looked around, and +suddenly felt he would stifle if he stayed here another minute. He +wasn't likely to run into Tommy twice in a row, and if he did, well, +Tommy would probably remember the snub he'd had and stay away from Dave +Briscoe. And he wanted another sight of the stars--before he went into +worry and danger. + +He went down to the Observation Lounge. + +The cosmic dust was brighter out here, and the constellations looked a +little flattened. Textbook tables came back to him. He had traveled 47 +light-years--he couldn't remember how many _billions_ of miles that was. +Even so, it was only the tiniest hop-skip-and-jump in the measureless +vastness of space. + +The ship was streaking toward Procyon, a sol-type star, bright yellow; +the three planets, Alpha, Beta and Gamma, ringed like Saturn and veiled +in shimmering layers of cloud, swung against the night. Past them other +stars, brighter stars, faraway stars he would never see, glimmered +through the pale dust.... + +"Hello, Dave. Been space-sick all this time? Remember me? I met you +about six weeks ago in the lounge down here--just out from Earth." + +_Oh, no!_ Bart turned, with a mental groan, to face Tommy. "I've been in +cold-sleep," he said. He _couldn't_ be rude again. + +"What a dull way to face a long trip!" Tommy said cheerily. "I've +enjoyed every minute of it myself." + +It was hard for Bart to realize that, for Tommy, their meeting had been +six weeks ago. It all seemed dreamlike. The closer he came to it, the +less he could realize that in a few hours he'd be getting off on a +strange world, with only the strange name _Raynor Three_ as a guide. He +felt terribly alone, and having Tommy close at hand helped, even though +Tommy didn't know he was helping. + +"Maybe I should have stayed awake." + +"You should," Tommy said. "I only slept for a couple of hours at each +warp-drive shift. We had a day-long stopover at Sirius Eighteen, and I +took a tour of the planet. And I've spent a lot of time down here, just +star-gazing--not that it did me much good. Which one is Antares? How do +you tell it from Aldebaran? I'm always getting them mixed up." + +Bart pointed. "Aldebaran--that's the big red one there," he said. "Think +of the constellation Taurus as a necklace, with Aldebaran hanging from +it like a locket. Antares is much further down in the sky, in relation +to the arbitrary sidereal axis, and it's a deeper red. Like a burning +coal, while Aldebaran is like a ruby--" + +He broke off in mid-word, realizing that Tommy was gazing at him in a +mixture of triumph and consternation. Too late, Bart realized he had +been tricked. Studying for an exam, the year before, he had explained +the difference between the two red stars in almost the same words. + +"Bart," Tommy said in a whisper, "I knew it had to be you. Why didn't +you tell me, fella?" + +Bart felt himself start to smile, but it only stretched his mouth. He +said, very low, "Don't say my name out loud Tom. I'm in terrible +trouble." + +"Why didn't you tell me? What's a friend for?" + +"We can't talk here. And all the cabins are wired for sound in case +somebody stops breathing, or has a heart attack in space," Bart said, +glancing around. + +They went and stood at the very foot of the quartz window, seeming to +tread the brink of a dizzying gulf of cosmic space, and talked in low +tones while Alpha and Beta and Gamma swelled like blown-up balloons in +the port. + +Tommy listened, almost incredulous. "And you're hoping to find your +father, with no more information than that? It's a big universe," he +said, waving at the gulf of stars. "The Lhari ships, according to the +little tourist pamphlet they gave me, touch down at nine hundred and +twenty-two different stars in this galaxy!" + +Bart visibly winced, and Tommy urged, "Come to Capella with me. You can +stay with my family as long as you want to, and appeal to the +Interplanet authority to find your father. They'd protect him against +the Lhari, surely. You can't chase all over the galaxy playing +interplanetary spy all by yourself, Bart!" + +But Briscoe had deliberately gone to his death, to give Bart the chance +to get away. He wouldn't have died to send Bart into a trap he could +easily have sprung on Earth. + +"Thanks, Tommy. But I've got to play it my way." + +Tommy said firmly, "Count me in then. My ticket has stopover privileges. +I'll get off at Procyon with you." + +It was a temptation--to have a friend at his back. He put his hand on +Tommy's shoulder, grateful beyond words. But fresh horror seized him as +he remembered the horrible puddle of melted robotcab with Briscoe +somewhere in the residue. _Protoplasm residue enough for two bodies._ He +couldn't let Tommy face that. + +"Tommy, I appreciate that, believe me. But if I did find my father and +his friends, I don't want anyone tracing me. You'd only make the danger +worse. The best thing you can do is stay out of it." + +Tommy faced him squarely. "One thing's for sure. I'm not going to let +you go off and never know whether you're alive or dead." + +"I'll try to get a message to you," Bart said, "if I can. But whatever +happens, Tommy, stay with the ship and go on to Capella. It's the one +thing you can do to help me." + +A warning bell rang in the ship. He broke sharply away from Tommy, +saying over his shoulder, "It's all you can do to help, Tom. Do +it--please? Just stay clear?" + +Tommy reached out and caught his arm. "Okay," he said reluctantly, "I +will. But you be careful," he added fiercely. "You hear me? And if I +don't hear from you in some reasonable time, I'll raise a stink from +here to Vega!" + +Bart broke away and ran. He was afraid, if he didn't, he'd break up +again. He closed the cabin door behind him, trying to calm down so that +the Mentorian steward, coming to strap him in for deceleration, wouldn't +see how upset he was. He was going to need all his nerve. + + * * * * * + +He went through another decontamination chamber, and finally moved, with +a line of passengers, out of the yawning airlock, under the strange sun, +into the strange world. + +At first sight it was a disappointment. It was a Lhari spaceport that +lay before him, to all appearances identical with the one on Earth: +sloping glass ramps, tall colorless pylons, a skyscraper terminus +crowded with men of all planets. But the sun overhead was brilliant and +clear gold, the shadows sharp and violet on the spaceport floor. Behind +the confines of the spaceport he could see the ridges of tall hills and +unfamiliarly colored trees. He longed to explore them, but he got a grip +on his imagination, surrendering his ticket stub and false papers to the +Lhari and Mentorian interpreter who guarded the ramp. + +The Lhari said to the Mentorian, in the Lhari language, "Keep him for +questioning but don't tell him why." Bart felt a cold chill icing his +spine. _This was it._ + +The Mentorian said briefly, "We wish to check on the proper antibody +component for Aldebaran natives. There will be a delay of about thirty +minutes. Will you kindly wait in this room here?" + +The room was comfortable, furnished with chairs and a vision-screen with +some colorful story moving on it, small bright figures in capes, curious +beasts racing across an unusual veldt; but Bart paced the floor +restlessly. There were two doors in the room. Through one of them, he +had been admitted; he could see, through the glass door, the silhouette +of the Mentorian outside. The other door was opaque, and marked in large +letters: + + DANGER HUMANS MUST NOT PASS WITHOUT SPECIAL LENSES TYPE X. + ORDINARY SPACE LENSES WILL NOT SUFFICE DANGER! LHARI OPENING! + ADJUST X LENSES BEFORE OPENING! + +Bart read the sign again. Well, _that_ was no way out, for sure! He had +heard that the Lhari sun was almost 500 times as bright as Earth's. The +Mentorians alone, among humans, could endure Lhari lights--he supposed +the warning was for ordinary spaceport workers. + +A sudden, rather desperate plan occurred to Bart. He didn't know how +much light he _could_ tolerate--he'd never been on Mentor--but he _had_ +inherited some of his mother's tolerance for light. And blindness would +be better than being burned down with an energon-gun! He went hesitantly +toward the door, and pushed it open. + +His eyes exploded into pain; automatically his hands went up to shield +them. Light, light--he had never known such cruelly glowing light. Even +through the lids there was pain and red afterimages; but after a moment, +opening them a slit, he found that he could see, and made out other +doors, glass ramps, pale Lhari figures coming and going. But for the +moment he was alone in the long corridor beyond which he could see the +glass ramps. + +Nearby, a door opened into a small office with glass walls; on a peg, +one of the silky metallic cloaks worn by Mentorians doing spaceport work +was hanging. On an impulse, Bart caught it up and flung it around his +shoulders. + +It felt cool and soft, and the hood shielded his eyes a little. The ramp +leading down to what he hoped was street level was terribly steep and +there were no steps. Bart eased himself over the top of the ramp and let +go. He whooshed down the slick surface on the flat of his back, feeling +the metal of the cloak heat with the friction, and came to a breathless +jarring stop at the bottom. Whew, what a slide! Three stories, at least! +But there was a door, and outside the door, maybe, safety. + +A voice hailed him, in Lhari. "You, there!" + +Bart could see well now. He made out the form of a Lhari, only a +colorless blob in the intense light. + +"You people know better than to come back here without glasses. Do you +want to be blinded, my friend?" He actually sounded kind and concerned. +Bart tensed, his heart pounding. Now that he was caught, could he bluff +his way out? He hadn't actually spoken the Lhari language in years, +though his mother had taught it to him when he was young enough to learn +it without a trace of accent. + +Well, he must try. "Margil sent me to check," he improvised quickly. +"They were holding someone for questioning, and he seems to have gotten +away somehow, so I wanted to make sure he didn't come through here." + +"What is the matter that one man can give us all the slip this way?" the +Lhari said curiously. "Well, one thing is sure, he's Vegan or Solarian +or Capellan, one of the dim-star people. If he comes through here, we'll +catch him easily enough while he's stumbling around half blind. You know +that you shouldn't stay long." He gestured. "Out this way--and don't +come back without special lenses." + +Bart nodded, jerking the cloak around his shoulders, forcing himself not +to break into a run as he stepped through the door the Lhari indicated. +It closed behind him. Bart blinked, feeling as if he had stepped into +pitch darkness. Only slowly did his eyes adapt and he became aware that +he was standing in a city street, in the full glow of Procyon sunlight, +and apparently outside the Lhari spaceport entirely. + +He'd better get to cover! He took off the Mentorian cloak, thrust it +under his arm. He raised his eyes, which were adjusting to ordinary +light again, and stopped dead. + +Just across the street was a long, low, rainbow colored building. And +the letters--Bart blinked, thinking his eyes deceived him--spelled out: + + EIGHT COLORS TRANSSHIPPING CORPORATION + CARGO, PASSENGERS, MESSAGES, EXPRESS + A. RAYNOR ONE, MANAGER + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +For a moment the words swirled before Bart's still-watering eyes. He +wiped them, trying to steady himself. Had he so soon reached the end of +his dangerous quest? Somehow he had expected it to lie in deep, dark +concealment. + +Raynor One. The existence of Raynor _One_ presupposed a Raynor _Two_ and +probably a Raynor _Three_--for all he knew, Raynors Four, Five, Six, and +Sixty-six! The building looked solid and real. It had evidently been +there a long time. + +With his hand on the door, he hesitated. Was it, after all, the _right_ +Eight Colors? But it was a family saying; hardly the sort of thing you'd +be apt to hear outside. He pushed the door and went in. + +The room was filled with brighter light than the Procyon sun outdoors, +the edges of the furniture rimmed with neon in the Mentorian fashion. A +prim-looking girl sat behind a desk--or what should have been a desk, +except that it looked more like a mirror, with little sparkles of +lights, different colors, in regular rows along one edge. The mirror-top +itself was blue-violet and gave her skin and her violet eyes a bluish +tinge. She was smooth and lacquered and glittering and she raised her +eyebrows at Bart as if he were some strange form of life she hadn't seen +very often. + +"I'd--er--like to see Raynor One," he said. + +Her dainty pointed fingernail, varnished blue, stabbed at points of +light. "On what business?" she asked, not caring. + +"It's a personal matter." + +"Then I suggest you see him at his home." + +"It can't wait that long." + +The girl studied the glassy surface and punched at some more of the +little lights. "Name, please?" + +"David Briscoe." + +He had thought her perfect-painted face could not show any emotion +except disdain, but it did. She looked at him in open, blank +consternation. She said into the vision-screen, "He calls himself David +Briscoe. Yes, I know. Yes, sir, yes." She raised her face, and it was +controlled again, but not bored. "Raynor One will see you. Through that +door, and down to the end of the hall." + +At the end of the hallway was another door. He stepped through into a +small cubicle, and the door slid shut like a closing trap. He whirled in +panic, then subsided in foolish relief as the cubicle began to rise--it +was just an automatic elevator. + +It rose higher and higher, stopping with an abrupt jerk, and slid open +into a lighted room and office. A man sat behind a desk, watching Bart +step from the elevator. The man was very tall and very thin, and the +gray eyes, and the intensity of the lights, told Bart that he was a +Mentorian. _Raynor One?_ + +Under the steady, stern gray stare, Bart felt the slow, clutching suck +of fear again. Was this man a slave of the Lhari, who would turn him +over to them? Or someone he could trust? His own mother had been a +Mentorian. + +"Who are you?" Raynor One's voice was harsh, and gave the impression of +being loud, though it was not. + +"David Briscoe." + +It was the wrong thing. The Mentorian's mouth was taut, forbidding. "Try +again. I happen to know that David Briscoe is dead." + +"I have a message for Raynor Three." + +The cold gray stare never altered. "On what business?" + +On a sudden inspiration, Bart said, "I'll tell you that if you can tell +me what the Eighth Color is." + +There was a glint in the grim eyes now, though the even, stern voice did +not soften. "I never knew myself. I didn't name it Eight Colors. Maybe +it's the original owner you want." + +On a sudden hope, Bart asked, "Was he, by any chance, named Rupert +Steele?" + +Raynor One made a suspicious movement. "I can't imagine why you think +so," he said guardedly. "Especially if you've just come in from Earth. +It was never very widely known. He only changed the name to Eight Colors +a few weeks ago. And it's for sure that your ship didn't get any +messages while the Lhari were in warp-drive. You mention entirely too +many names, but I notice you aren't giving out any further information." + +"I'm looking for a man called Rupert Steele." + +"I thought you were looking for Raynor Three," said Raynor One, staring +at the Mentorian cloak. "I can think of a lot of people who might want +to know how I react to certain names, and find out if I know the wrong +people, if they are the wrong people. What makes you think I'd admit it +if I did?" + +Now, Bart thought, they had reached a deadlock. Somebody had to trust +somebody. This could go on all night--parry and riposte, question and +evasive answer, each of them throwing back the other's questions in a +verbal fencing-match. Raynor One wasn't giving away any information. +And, considering what was probably at stake, Bart didn't blame him much. + +He flung the Mentorian cloak down on the table. + +"This got me out of trouble--the hard way," he said. "I never wore one +before and I never intend to again. I want to find Rupert Steele because +he's my father!" + +"Your father. And just how are you going to prove that exceptionally +interesting statement?" + +Without warning, Bart lost his temper. + +"I don't care whether I prove it or not! _You_ try proving something for +a change, why don't you? If you know Rupert Steele, I don't have to +prove who I am--just take a good look at me! Or so Briscoe told me--a +man who called himself Briscoe, anyway. He gave me papers to travel +under that name! I didn't ask for them, he shoved them into my hand. +_That_ Briscoe is dead." Bart struck his fist hard on the desk, bending +over Raynor One angrily. + +"He sent me to find a man named Raynor Three. But the only one I really +care about finding is my father. Now you know as much as I do, how about +giving _me_ some information for a change?" + +He ran out of breath and stood glaring down at Raynor One, fists +clenched. Raynor One got up and said, quick, savage and quiet, "Did +anyone see you come here?" + +"Only the girl downstairs." + +"How did you get through the Lhari? In that?" He moved his head at the +Mentorian cloak. + +Bart explained briefly, and Raynor One shook his head. + +"You were lucky," he said, "you could have been blinded. You must have +inherited flash-accommodation from the Mentorian side--Rupert Steele +didn't have it. I'll tell you this much," he added, sitting down again. +"In a manner of speaking, you're my boss. Eight Colors--it used to be +Alpha Transshipping--is what they call a middleman outfit. The +interplanet cargo lines transport from planet to planet within a +system--that's free competition--and the Lhari ships transport from star +to star--that's a monopoly all over the galaxy. The middleman outfits +arrange for orderly and businesslike liaison between the two. Rupert +Steele bought into this company, a long time ago, but he left it for me +to manage, until recently." + +Raynor punched a button, said to the image of the glossy girl at the +desk, "Violet, get Three for me. You may have to send a message to the +_Multiphase_." + +He swung round to Bart again. "You want a lot of explanations? Well, +you'll have to get 'em from somebody else. I don't know what this is all +about. I don't _want_ to know: I have to do business with the Lhari. The +less I know, the less I'm apt to say to the wrong people. But I promised +Three that if you turned up, or if anyone came and asked for the Eighth +Color, I'd send you to him. That's all." + +He motioned Bart ungraciously to a seat, and shut his mouth firmly, as +if he had already said too much. Bart sat. After a while he heard the +elevator again; the panel slid open and Raynor Three came into the room. + +It had to be Raynor Three; there was no one else he could have been. He +was as like Raynor One as Tweedledum to Tweedledee: tall, stern, ascetic +and grim. He wore the full uniform of a Mentorian on Lhari ships: the +white smock of a medic, the metallic blue cloak, the low silvery +sandals. + +He said, "What's doing, One? Violet--" and then he caught sight of Bart. +His eyes narrowed and he drew a quick breath, his face twisting up into +apprehension and shock. + +"It must be Steele's boy," he said, and immediately Bart saw the +difference between the--were they brothers? For Raynor One's face, +controlled and stern, had not altered all during their interview, but +Raynor Three's smile was wry and kindly at once, and his voice was low +and gentle. "He's the image of Rupert. Did he come in on his own name? +How'd he manage it?" + +"No. He had David Briscoe's papers." + +"So the old man got through," said Raynor Three, with a low whistle. +"But that's not safe. Quick, give them to me, Bart." + +"The Lhari have them." + +Raynor One walked to the window and said in his deadpan voice, "It's +useless. But get the kid out of here before they come looking for me. +Look." + +He pointed. Below them, the streets were alive with uniformed Lhari and +Mentorians. Bart felt sick. + +"If they had the same efficiency with red tape that we humans have, he'd +never have made it this far." + +Raynor Three actually smiled. "But you can count on them for that much +inefficiency," he said, and his eyes twinkled for a moment at Bart. +"That's how it was so easy to work the old double-shuffle trick on them. +They had Steele's description but not his name, so Briscoe took Steele's +papers and managed to slip through. Once they landed on Earth, they had +the Steele _names_, but by the time that cleared, you were outbound with +another set of papers. It may have confused them, because they knew +_David_ Briscoe was dead--and there was just a chance you were an +innocent bystander who could raise a real row if they pulled you in. Did +old Briscoe get away?" + +"No," Bart said, harshly, "he's dead." + +Raynor Three's mobile face held shocked sadness. "Two brave men," he +said softly, "Edmund Briscoe the father, David Briscoe the son. Remember +the name, Bart, because I won't remember it." + +"Why not?" + +Raynor Three gave him a gold-glinting, enigmatic glance. "I'm a +Mentorian, remember? I'm good at not remembering things. Just be glad I +remember Rupert Steele. If you'd been a few days later, I wouldn't have +remembered him, though I promised to wait for you." + +Raynor One demanded, "Get him _out_ of here, Three!" + +Raynor Three swung to Bart. "Put that on again." He indicated the +Mentorian cloak. "Pull the hood right up over your head. Now, if we meet +anyone, say a polite good afternoon in Lhari--you _can_ speak +Lhari?--and leave the rest of the talking to me." + +Bart felt like cringing as they came out into the street full of Lhari; +but Raynor Three whispered, "Attack is the best defense," and went up to +one of the Lhari. "What's going on, _rieko mori_?" + +"A passenger on the ship got away without going through Decontam. He may +spread disease, so of course we have alerted all authorities," the Lhari +said. + +As the Lhari strode past, Raynor Three grimaced. "Clever, that. Now the +whole planet will be hunting for any stranger, worrying themselves into +fits about some unauthorized germ. We'd better get you to a safe place. +My country house is a good way off, but I have a copter." + +Bart demanded, as they climbed in, "Are you taking me to my father?" + +"Wait till we get to my place," Raynor Three said, taking the controls +and putting the machine in the air. "Just lean back and enjoy the trip, +huh?" + +Bart relaxed against the cushions, but he still felt apprehensive. Where +was his father? If he was a fugitive from the Lhari, he might by now be +at the other end of the galaxy. But if his father couldn't travel on +Lhari ships, and if he had been here, the chances were that he was still +somewhere in the Procyon system. + +They flew for a long time; across low hills, patchwork agricultural +districts, towns, and then for a long time over water. The copter had +automatic controls, but Raynor Three kept it on manual, and Bart +wondered if the Mentorian just didn't want to talk. + +It began to descend, at last, toward a small green hill, bright in the +last gold rays on sunset. A small domelike pink bubble rose out of the +hill. Raynor Three set the copter neatly down on a platform that slid +shut after them, unfastened their seat belts and gave Bart a hand to +climb out. + +He ushered him into a living room of glass and chrome, softly lighted, +but deserted and faintly dusty. Raynor pushed a switch; soft music came +on, and the carpets caressed his feet. He motioned Bart to a chair. + +"You're safe here, for a while," Raynor Three said, "though how long, +nobody knows. But so far, I've been above suspicion."' + +Bart leaned back; the chair was very comfortable, but the comfort could +not help him to relax. + +"Where is my father?" he demanded. + +Raynor Three stood looking down at him, his mobile face drawn and +strange. "I guess I can't put it off any longer," he said softly. Then +he covered his face with his hands. From behind them hoarse words came, +choked with emotion. + +"Your father is dead, Bart. I--I killed him." + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +For a moment Bart stared, frozen, unable to move, his very ears refusing +the words he heard. Had this all been another cruel trick, then, a trap, +a betrayal? He rose and looked wildly around the room, as if the glass +walls were a cage closing in on him. + +"Murderer!" he flung at Raynor, and took a step toward him, his clenched +fists coming up. He'd been shoved around too long, but here he had one +of them right in front of him, and for once he'd hit back! He'd start by +taking Raynor Three apart--in small pieces! "You--you rotten murderer!" + +Raynor Three made no move to defend himself. "Bart," he said +compassionately, "sit down and listen to me. No, I'm no murderer. I--I +shouldn't have put it that way." + +Bart's hands dropped to his sides, but he heard his voice crack with +pain and grief: "I suppose you'll tell me he was a spy or a traitor and +you _had_ to kill him!" + +"Not even that. I tried to save your father, I did everything I could. +I'm no murderer, Bart. I killed him, yes--God forgive me, because I'll +never forgive myself!" + +Bart's fists unclenched and he stared down at Raynor Three, shaking his +head in bewilderment and pain. "I knew he was dead! I knew it all along! +I was trying not to believe it, but I knew!" + +"I liked your father. I admired him. He took a long chance, and it +killed him. I could have stopped him, I should have stopped him, but how +could I? Where did I have the right to stop him, after what I did +to--" he stopped, almost in mid-word, as if a switch had been turned. + +But Bart was not listening. He swung away, striding to the wall as if he +would kick it in, striking it with his two clenched fists, his whole +being in revolt. _Dad, oh, Dad! I kept going, I thought at the end of it +you'd be here and it would all be over. But here I am at the end of it +all, and you're not here, you won't ever be here again._ + +Dimly, he knew when Raynor Three rose and left him alone. He leaned his +head on his clenched fists, and cried. + +After a long time he raised his head and blew his nose, his face setting +itself in new, hard, unaccustomed lines, slowly coming to terms with the +hard, painful reality. His father was dead. His dangerous, +dead-in-earnest game of escape had no happy ending of reunion with his +father. They couldn't sit together and laugh about how scared he had +been. His father was _dead_, and he, Bart, was alone and in danger. His +face looked very grim indeed, and years older than he was. + +After a long time Raynor Three opened the door quietly. "Come and have +something to eat, Bart." + +"I'm not hungry." + +"Well, I am," Raynor Three said, "and you ought to be. You'll need it." +He pulled knobs and the appropriate tables and chairs extruded +themselves from the walls. Raynor unsealed hot cartons and spread them +on the table, saying lightly, "Looks good--not that I can claim any +credit, I subscribe to a food service that delivers them hot by +pneumatic tube." + +Bart felt sickened by the thought of eating, but when he put a polite +fork in the food, he discovered that he was famished and ate up +everything in sight. When they had finished, Raynor dumped the cartons +into a disposal chute, went to a small portable bar and put a glass into +his hand. + +"Drink this." + +Bart touched his lips to the glass, made a face and put it away. +"Thanks, but I don't drink." + +"Call it medicine, you'll need something," Raynor Three said crossly. +"I've got a lot to tell you, and I don't want you going off half-primed +in the middle of a sentence. If you'd rather have a shot of +tranquilizer, all right; otherwise, I prescribe that you drink what I +gave you." He gave Bart a quick, wry grin. "I really am a medic, you +know." + +Feeling like a scolded child, Bart drank. It burned his mouth, but after +it was down, he felt a sort of warm burning in his insides that +gradually spread a sense of well-being all through him. It wasn't +alcohol, but whatever it was, it had quite a kick. + +"Thanks," he muttered. "Why are you taking this trouble, Raynor? There +must be danger--" + +"Don't you know--" Raynor broke off. "Obviously, you don't. Your mother +never said much about your Mentorian family tree, I suppose? She was a +Raynor." He smiled at Bart, a little ruefully. "I won't claim a +kinsman's privileges until you decide how much to trust me." + +Raynor Three settled back. + +"It's a long story and I only know part of it," he began. "Our family, +the Raynors, have traded with the Lhari for more generations than I can +count. When I was a young man, I qualified as a medic on the Lhari +ships, and I've been star-hopping ever since. People call us the slaves +of the Lhari--maybe we are," he added wryly. "But I began it just +because space is where I belong, and there's nowhere else that I've ever +wanted to be. And I'll take it at any price. + +"I never questioned what I was doing until a few years ago. It was your +father who made me wonder if we Mentorians were blind and selfish--this +privilege ought to belong to everyone, not just the Lhari. More and +more, the Lhari monopoly seemed wrong to me. But I was just a medic. And +if I involved myself in any conspiracy against the Lhari, they'd find it +out in the routine psych-checking. + +"And then we worked out how it could be done. Before every trip, with +self-hypnosis and self-suggestion, I erase my own memories--a sort of +artificial amnesia--so that the Lhari can't find out any more than I +want them to find out. Of course, it also means that I have no memory, +while I'm on the Lhari ships, of what I've agreed to while I'm--" His +face suddenly worked, and his mouth moved without words, as if he had +run into some powerful barrier against speech. + +It was a full minute, while Bart stared in dismay, before he found his +voice again, saying, "So far, it was just a sort of loose network, +trying to put together stray bits of information that the Lhari didn't +think important enough to censor. + +"And then came the big breakthrough. There was a young Apprentice +astrogator named David Briscoe. He'd taken some runs in special test +ships, and read some extremely obscure research data from the early days +of the contact between men and Lhari, and he had a wild idea. He did the +bravest thing anyone has ever done. He stripped himself of all +identifying data--so that if he died, no one would be in trouble with +the Lhari--and stowed away on a Lhari ship." + +"But--" Bart's lips were dry--"didn't he die in the warp-drive?" + +Slowly, Raynor Three shook his head. + +"No, he didn't. No drugs, no cold-sleep--but he didn't die. Don't you +see, Bart?" He leaned forward, urgently. + +"_It's all a fake!_ The Lhari have just been saying that to justify +their refusal to give us the secret of the catalyst that generates the +warp-drive frequencies! Such a simple lie, and it's worked for all these +years!" + + * * * * * + +"A Mentorian found him and didn't have the heart to turn him over to the +Lhari. So he was smuggled clear again. But when that Mentorian underwent +the routine brain-checks at the end of the voyage, the Lhari found out +what had happened. They didn't know Briscoe's name, but they wrung that +Mentorian out like a wet dishcloth and got a description that was as +good as fingerprints. They tracked down young Briscoe and killed him. +They killed the first man he'd talked to. They killed the second. The +third was your father." + +"The murdering devils!" + +Raynor sighed. "Your father and Briscoe's father were old friends. +Briscoe's father was dying with incurable heart disease; _his_ son was +dead, and old Briscoe had only one thought in his mind--to make sure he +didn't die for nothing. So he took your father's papers, knowing they +were as good as a death warrant, slipped away and boarded a Lhari ship +that led roundabout to stars where the message hadn't reached yet. He +led them a good chase. Did he die or did they track him down and kill +him?" Bart bowed his head and told the story. + +"Meanwhile," Raynor Three continued, "your father came to me, knowing I +was sympathetic, knowing I was a Lhari-trained surgeon. He had just one +thought in his mind: to do, again, what David Briscoe had done, and make +sure the news got out this time. He cooked up a plan that was even +braver and more desperate. He decided to sign on a Lhari ship as a +member of the crew." + +"As a Mentorian?" Bart asked, but something cold, like ice water +trickling down his back, told him this was not what Raynor meant. "The +brainwashing--" + +"No," said Raynor, "not as a Mentorian; he couldn't have escaped the +psych-checking. _As a Lhari._" + +Bart gasped. "How--" + +"Men and Lhari are very much alike," Raynor Three said. "A few small +things--skin color, the shape of the ears, the hands and claws--keep +humans from seeing that the Lhari are men." + +"Don't say that," Bart almost yelled. "Those filthy, murdering devils! +You call those monsters men?" + +"I've lived among the Lhari all my life. They're not devils, Bart, they +have their reasons. Physiologically, the Lhari are--well, _humanoid_, if +you like that better. They're a lot more like a man than a man is like, +for instance, a gorilla. Your father convinced me that with minor +plastic and facial surgery, he could pass as a Lhari. And finally I gave +in, and did the surgery--" + +"And it killed him!" + +"Not really. It was a completely unforeseeable thing--a blood clot broke +loose in a vein, and lodged in his brain. He was dead in seconds. It +could have happened at any time," he said, "yet I feel responsible, even +though I keep telling myself I'm not. And I'll help you as much as I +can--for his sake, and for your mother's. The Lhari don't watch me too +closely--they figure that anything I do they'll catch in the +brainwashing. But I'm still one step ahead of them, as long as I can +erase my own memories." + +Bart was sifting it all, slowly, in his mind. + +"Why was Dad doing this? What could he gain?" + +"You know we can build ships as good as the Lhari ships, but we don't +know anything about the rare catalyst they use for warp-drive fuel. +Captain Steele had hopes of being able to discover where they got it." + +"But couldn't they find out where the Lhari ships go for fueling?" + +"No. There's no way to trail a Lhari ship," he reminded Bart. "We can +follow them inside a star-system, but then they pop into warp-drive, and +we don't know where they go when they aren't running between _our_ +stars. + +"We've gathered together what information we _do_ have, and we know that +after a certain number of runs in our part of the galaxy, ships take off +in the direction of Antares. There's a ship, due to come in here in +about ten days, called the _Swiftwing_, which is just about due to make +the Antares run. Captain Steele had managed to arrange--I don't know +how, and I don't want to know how--for a vacancy on that ship, and +somehow he got credentials. You see, it's a very good spy system, a +network between the stars, but the weak link is this: everything, every +message, every man, has to travel back and forth by the Lhari ships +themselves." + +He rose, shaking it all off impatiently. "Well, it's finished now. Your +father is dead. What are you going to do? If you want to go back to +Vega, you can probably convince the Lhari you're just an innocent +bystander. They _don't_ hurt bystanders or children, Bart. They aren't +bad people. They're just protecting their business monopoly. + +"The safest way to handle it would be this: let me erase your memories +of what I've told you tonight. Then just let the Lhari capture you. They +won't kill you. They'll just give you a light psych-check. When they +find out you don't know anything, they'll send you back to Vega, and you +can spend the rest of your life in peace, running Vega Interplanet and +Eight Colors." + +Bart turned on him furiously. "You mean, go home like a good little boy, +and pretend none of this ever happened? What do you think I am, anyhow?" +Bart's chin set in the new, hard line. "What I want is a chance to go on +where Dad left off!" + +"It won't be easy, and it could be dangerous," Raynor Three said, "but +there's nothing else to be done. We had the arrangements all made; and +now somebody's got to take the dangerous risk of calling them off. Are +you game for a little plastic surgery--just enough to change your looks +again, with new forged papers? You can't go by the _Swiftwing_--it +doesn't carry passengers--but there's another route you can take." + +Bart sprang up. "No," he said, "I know a better way. Let me go on the +_Swiftwing_--in Dad's place--_as a Lhari_!" + +"Bart, no," Raynor Three said. "You'd never get away with it. It's too +dangerous." But his gold eyes glinted. + +"Why not? I speak Lhari better than Dad ever did. And my eyes can stand +Lhari lights. You said yourself, it's going to be a dangerous job just +calling off all the arrangements. So let's _not_ call them off. Just let +me take Dad's place!" + +"Bart, you're only a boy--" + +"What was Dave Briscoe? No, Raynor. Dad left me a lot more than Vega +Interplanet, and you know it. I'll finish what he started, and then +maybe I'll begin to deserve what he left me." + +Raynor Three gripped Bart's hand. He said, in a voice that shook, "All +right, Bart. You're your father's son. I can't say more than that. I +haven't any right to stop you." + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +"All right, Bart, today we'll let you look at yourself," Raynor Three +said. + +Bart smiled under the muffling layers of bandage around his face. His +hands were bandaged, too, and he had not been permitted to look in a +mirror. But the transition had been surprisingly painless--or perhaps +his sense of well-being had been due to Raynor Three slipping him some +drug. + +He'd been given injections of a chemical that would change the color of +his skin; there had been minor operations on his face, his hands, his +feet. + +"Let's see you get up and walk around." + +Bart obeyed awkwardly, and Raynor frowned. "Hurt?" + +"Not exactly, but I feel as if I were limping." + +"That's to be expected. I changed the angle of the heel tendon and the +muscle of the arch. You're using a different set of muscles when you +walk; until they harden up, you'll have some assorted Charley horses. +Have any trouble hearing me?" + +"No, though I'd hear better without all these bandages," Bart said +impatiently. + +"All in good time. Any trouble breathing?" + +"No, except for the bandages." + +"Fine. I changed the shape of your ears and nostrils, and it might have +affected your hearing or your breathing. Now, listen, Bart: I'm going to +take the bandages off your hands first. Sit down." + +Bart sat across the table from him, obediently sticking out his hands. +Raynor Three said, "Shut your eyes." + +Bart did as he was told and felt Raynor Three's long fingers working at +the bandages. + +"Move each finger as I touch it." Bart obeyed, and Raynor said +neutrally, "Good. Now, take a deep breath and then open your eyes." + +Impatiently Bart flicked his lids open. In spite of the warning, his +breath went out in a harsh, jolting gasp. His hands lay on the table +before him--but they were not his hands. + +The narrow, long fingers were pearl-gray, tipped with whitish-pink claws +that curved out over the tips. Nervously Bart moved one finger, and the +long claw flicked out like a cat's, retracted. He swallowed. + +"Golly!" He felt strangely wobbly. + +"A beautiful job, if I do say so. Be careful not to scratch yourself, +and practice picking up small things." + +Bart saw that the long grayish claws were trembling. "How did you +make--the claws?" + +"Quite simple, really," Raynor beamed. "I injected protein compounds +into the nail matrix, which speeded up nail growth terrifically, and +then, as they grew, shaped them. Joining on those tiny muscles for the +retracting mechanism was the tricky part though." + +Bart was moving his hands experimentally. Once over the shock, they felt +quite normal. The claws didn't get in his way half so much as he'd +expected when he picked up a pen that lay beside him and, with the blunt +tip, made a few of the strange-looking dots and wedges that were the +Lhari alphabet. + +"Practice writing this," said Raynor Three, and laid a plastic-encased +folder down beside him. It was a set of ship's papers printed in Lhari. +Bart read it through, seeing that it was made out to the equivalent of +Astrogator, First Class, Bartol. + +"That's your name now, the name your father would have used. Memorize +it, get used to the sound of it, practice writing it. Don't worry too +much about the rating; it's an elementary one, what we'd call Apprentice +rating, and I have a training tape for you anyhow. My brother got hold +of it, don't ask me how--and don't ask him!" + +"When am I going to see my face?" + +"When I think you're ready for the shock," Raynor said bluntly. "It +almost threw you when I showed you your hands." + +He made Bart walk around some more briefly, slowly, he unwound the +bandages; then turned and picked up a mirror at the bottom of his +medic's case, turning it right side up. "Here. But take it easy." + +But when Bart looked in the mirror he felt no unexpected shock, only an +unnerving revulsion. + +His hair was bleached-white and fluffy, almost feathery to the touch. +His skin was grayish-rose, and his eyelids had been altered just enough +to make his eyes look long, narrow and slanted. His nostrils were mere +slits, and he moved his tongue over lips that felt oddly thin. + +"I did as little to your teeth as I thought I could get away with-capped +the front ones," Raynor Three told him. "So if you get a toothache +you're out of luck--you won't dare go to a Lhari dentist. I could have +done more, but it would have made you look too freakish when we changed +you back to human again--if you live that long," he added grimly. + +_I hadn't thought about that. And if Raynor is going to forget me, who +will do it?_ The cold knot of fear, never wholly absent, moved in him +again. + +Watching his face, Raynor Three said gently, "It's a big network, Bart. +I'm not telling you much, for your own safety. But when you get to +Antares, they'll tell you all you need to know." + +He lifted Bart's oddly clawed hands. "I warned you, remember--the change +isn't completely reversible. Your hands will always look--strange. The +fingers had to be lengthened, for instance. I wanted to make you as safe +as possible among the Lhari. I think you'll pass anything but an X-ray. +Just be careful not to break any bones." + +He gave Bart a package. "This is the Lhari training tape. Listen to it +as often as you can, then destroy it--_completely_--before you leave +here. The _Swiftwing_ is due in port three days from now, and they stay +here a week. I don't know how we'll manage it, but I'll guarantee +there'll be a vacancy of one Astrogator, First Class, on that ship." He +rose. "And now I'm going back to town and erase the memory." He stopped, +looking intently at Bart. + +"So if you see me, stay away from me and don't speak, because I won't +know you from any other Lhari. Understand? From here on, you're on your +own, Bart." + +He held out his hand. "This is the rough part, Son." His face moved +strangely. "I'm part of this network between the stars, but I don't know +what I've done before, and I'll never know how it comes out. It's funny +to stand here and look at you and realize that I won't even remember +you." The gold-glinted eyes blinked rapidly. "Goodbye, Bart. And--good +luck, Son." + +Bart took his hand, deeply moved, with the strange sense that this was +another death--a worse one than Briscoe's. He tried to speak and +couldn't. + +"Well--" Raynor's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Ouch! Careful with +those claws. The Lhari don't shake hands." + +He turned abruptly and went out of the door and out of Bart's life, +while Bart stood at the dome-window, feeling alone as he had never felt +alone before. + + * * * * * + +He had to wait six days, and they felt like six eternities. He played +the training tape over and over. With his Academy background, it wasn't +nearly so difficult as he'd feared. He read and reread the set of papers +identifying him as Astrogator, First Class, Bartol. Forged, he supposed. +Or was there, somewhere, a real Bartol? + +The last morning he slept uneasily late. He finished his last meal as a +human, spent part of the day removing all traces of his presence from +Raynor's home, burned the training tape, and finally got into the silky, +silvery tights and cloak that Raynor had provided. He could use his +hands now as if they belonged to him; he even found the claws handy and +useful. He could write his signature, and copy out instructions from the +training tape, without a moment's hesitation. + +Toward dusk, a young Lhari slipped unobserved out of Raynor's house and +hiked unnoticed to the edges of a small city nearby, where he mingled +with the crowd and hired a skycab from an unobservant human driver to +take him to the spaceport city. The skycab driver was startled, but not, +Bart judged, unusually so, to pick up a Lhari passenger. + +"Been doing a little sight-seeing on our planet, hey?" + +"That's right," Bart said in Universal, not trying to fake his idea of +the Lhari accent. Raynor had told him that only a few of the Lhari had +that characteristic sibilant "r" and "s" and warned him against trying +to imitate it. _Just speak naturally; there are dialects of Lhari, just +as there are dialects of the different human languages, and they all +sound different in Universal anyhow._ "Just looking around some." + +The skycab driver frowned and looked down at his controls, and Bart felt +curiously snubbed. Then he remembered. He himself had little to say to +the Lhari when they spoke to him. + +_He was an alien, a monster. He couldn't expect to be treated like a +human being any more._ + +When the skycab let him off before the spaceport, it felt strange to see +how the crowds edged away from him as he made a way through them. He +caught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirror-ramps, a tall thin +strange form in a metallic cloak, head crested with feathery white, and +felt overwhelmingly homesick for his own familiar face. + +He was beginning to feel hungry, and realized that he could not go into +an ordinary restaurant without attracting attention. There were +refreshment stands all over the spaceport, and he briefly considered +getting a snack at one of these. + +No, that was just putting it off. The time had to come when he must face +his fear and test his disguise among the Lhari themselves. Reviewing his +knowledge of the construction of spaceports, he remembered that one side +was the terminal, where humans and visitors and passengers were freely +admitted; the other side, for Lhari and their Mentorian employees only, +contained--along with business offices of many sorts--a sort of arcade +with amusement centers, shops and restaurants catering to the personnel +of the Lhari ships. With nine or ten ships docking every day, Raynor had +assured him that a strange Lhari face would be lost in the crowds very +easily. + +He went to one of the doors marked DANGER, LHARI LIGHTS BEYOND, and +passed through the glaring corridor of offices and storage-warehouses, +finally coming out into a sort of wide mall. The lights were fierce, but +he could endure them without trouble now, though his head ached faintly. +Raynor, testing his light tolerance, had assured him that he could endure +anything the Lhari could, without permanent damage to his optic nerves, +though he would have headaches until he got used to them. + +There were small shops and what looked like bars, and a glass-fronted +place with a sign lettered largely, in black letters, a Lhari phrase +meaning roughly HOME AWAY FROM HOME: MEALS SERVED, SPACEMEN WELCOME, +REASONABLE. + +Behind him a voice said in Lhari, "Tell me, does that sign mean what it +says? Or is this one of those traps for separating the unwary spaceman +from his hard-earned credits? How's the food?" + +Bart carefully took hold of himself. + +"I was just wondering that myself." He turned as he spoke, finding +himself face to face with a young Lhari in the unadorned cloak of a +spaceman without official rank. He knew the Lhari was young because his +crest was still white. + +The young Lhari extended his claws in the closed-fist, hidden-claw +gesture of Lhari greeting. "Shall we take a chance? Ringg son of Rahan +greets you." + +"Bartol son of Berihun." + +"I don't remember seeing you in the port, Bartol." + +"I've mostly worked on the Polaris run." + +"Way off there?" Ringg son of Rahan sounded startled and impressed. "You +really get around, don't you? Shall we sit here?" + +They sat on triangular chairs at a three-cornered table. Bart waited for +Ringg to order, and ordered what he did. When it came, it was a sort of +egg-and-fish casserole which Bart found extremely tasty, and he dug into +it with pleasure. Allowing for the claws, Lhari table manners were not +so much different from human--_and remember, their customs differ as +much as ours do. If you do something differently, they'll just think +you're from another planet with a different culture._ + +"Have you been here long?" + +"A day or so. I'm off the _Swiftwing_." + +Bart decided to hazard his luck. "I was told there's a vacancy on the +_Swiftwing_." + +Ringg looked at him curiously. "There is," he said, "but I'd like to +know how you found it out. Captain Vorongil said that anyone who talked +about it would be sent to Kleeto for three cycles. But what happened to +you? Miss your ship?" + +"No, I've just been laying off--traveling, sight-seeing, bumming +around," Bart said. "But I'm tired of it, and now I'd like to sign out +again." + +"Well, we could use another man. This is the long run we're making, out +to Antares and then home, and if everybody has to work extra shifts, +it's no fun. But if old Vorongil knows that there's been talk in the +port about Klanerol jumping ship, or whatever happened to him, we'll all +have to walk wide of his temper." + +Bart was beginning to relax a little; Ringg apparently accepted him +without scrutiny. At this close range Ringg did not seem a monster, but +just a young fellow like himself, hearty, good-natured--in fact, not +unlike Tommy. + +Bart chased the thought away as soon as it sneaked into his brain--one +of those _things_, like _Tommy_? Then, rather grimly, he reminded +himself, _I'm one of those things_. He said irritably, "So how do I +account for asking your captain for the place?" + +Ringg cocked his fluffy crest to one side. "I know," he said, "_I_ told +you. I'll say you're an old friend of mine. You don't know what +Vorongil's like when he gets mad. But what he doesn't know, he won't +shout about." He shoved back the triangular chair. "Who _did_ tell you, +anyway?" + +This was the first real hurdle, and Bart's brain raced desperately, but +Ringg was not listening for an answer. "I suppose somebody gossiped, or +one of those fool Mentorians picked it up. Got your papers? What +rating?" + +"Astrogator first class." + +"Klanerol was second, but you can't have everything, I suppose." Ringg +led the way through the arcades, out across a guarded sector, passing +half a dozen of the huge ships lying in their pits. Finally Ringg +stopped and pointed. "This is the old hulk." + +Bart had traveled only in Lhari passenger ships, which were new and +fresh and sleek. This ship was enormous, ovoid like the egg of some +space-monster, the sides dented and discolored, thin films of chemical +discoloration lying over the glassy metallic hull. + +Bart followed Ringg. This was real, it was happening. He was signing out +for his first interstellar cruise on one of the Lhari ships. Not a +Mentorian assistant, half-trusted, half-tolerated, but one of the crew +themselves. _If I'm lucky_, he reminded himself grimly. + +There was Lhari, in the black-banded officer's cloak, at the doorway. He +glanced at Ringg's papers. + +"Friend of mine," Ringg said, and Bart proffered his folder. The Lhari +gave it a casual glance, handed it back. + +"Old Baldy on board?" Ringg asked. + +"Where else?" The officer laughed. "You don't think _he'd_ relax with +cargo not loaded, do you?" + +They seemed casual and normal, and Bart's confidence was growing. They +had accepted him as one of themselves. But the great ordeal still lay +before him--an interview with the Lhari captain. And the idea had Bart +sweating scared. + +The corridors and decks seemed larger, wider, more spacious, but +shabbier than on the clean, bright, commercial passenger decks Bart had +seen. Dark-lensed men were rolling bales of cargo along on wheeled +dollies. The corridors seemed endless. More to hear the sound of his own +voice, and reassure himself of his ability to speak and be understood, +than because he cared, he asked Ringg, "What's your rating?" + +"Well, according to the logbooks, I'm an Expert Class Two, +Metals-Fatigue," said Ringg. "That sounds very technical and +interesting. But what it means is just that I go all over the ship inch +by inch, and when I finish, start all over again at the other end. Most +of what I do is just boss around the maintenance crews and snarl at them +about spots of rust on the paint." + +They got into a small round elevator and Ringg punched buttons; it began +to rise, slowly and creakily, toward the top. "This, for instance," +Ringg said. "I've been yelling for a new cable for six months." He +turned. "Take it easy, Bartol; don't let Vorongil scare you. He likes to +hear the sound of his own voice, but we'd all walk out the lock without +spacesuits for him." + +The elevator slid to a stop. The sign in Lhari letters said _Level of +Administration--Officers' Deck_. Ringg pushed at a door and said, +"Captain Vorongil?" + +"I thought you were on leave," said a Lhari voice, deeper and slower +than most. "What are you doing, back here more than ten milliseconds +before strap-in checks?" + +Ringg stepped back for Bart to go inside. The small cabin, with an +elliptical bunk slung from the ceiling and a triangular table, was +dwarfed by a tall, thin Lhari, in a cloak with four of the black bands +that seemed to denote rank among them. He had a deeply lined face with a +lacework of tiny wrinkles around the slanted eyes. His crest was not the +high, fluffy white of a young Lhari, but broken short near the scalp, +grayish pink showing through, the little feathery ends yellowed with +age. He growled, "Come in then, don't stand there. I suppose Ringg's +told you what a tyrant I am? What do you want, feathertop?" + +Bart remembered being told that this was the Lhari equivalent of "Kid" +or "Youngster." He fumbled in the capacious folds of his cloak for his +papers. His voice sounded shrill, even to himself. + +"Bartol son of Berihun in respectful greeting, _rieko mori_." +("Honorable old-bald-one," the Lhari equivalent of "sir.") "Ringg told +me there is a vacancy among the Astrogators, and I want to sign out." + +Unmistakably, Vorongil's snort was laughter. + +"So you've been talking, Ringg?" + +Ringg retorted, "Better that I tell one man than that you have to hunt +the planet over--or run the long haul with the drive-room watches short +by one man." + +"Well, well, you're right," Vorongil growled. He glared at Bart. "On the +last planet, one of our men disappeared. Jumped ship!" The creases +around his eyes deepened, troubled. "Probably just gone on the drift, +sight-seeing, but I wish he'd told me. As it is, I wonder if he's been +hurt, killed, kidnaped." + +Ringg said, "Who'd dare? It would be reported." + +Bart knew, with a cold chill, that the missing Klanerol had not simply +gone "on the drift." No Lhari port would ever see Klanerol, Second Class +Astrogator, again. + +"Bartol," mused the captain, riffling the forged papers. "Served on the +Polaris run. Hm--you _are_ a good long way off your orbit, aren't you? +Never been out that way myself. All right, I'll take you on. You can do +system programming? Good. Rating in Second Galaxy mathematics?" + +He nodded, hauled out a sheet of thin, wax-coated fabric and his claws +made rapid imprints in the surface. He passed it to Bart, pointed. Bart +hesitated, and Vorongil said impatiently, "Standard agreement, no hidden +clauses. Put your mark on it, feathertop." + +Bart realized it was something like a fingerprint they wanted. _You'll +pass anything but X-rays._ He pressed the top of one claw into the wax. +Vorongil nodded, shoved it on a shelf without looking at it. + +"So much for that," said Ringg, laughing, as they came out. "The Bald +One was in a good temper. I'm going to the port and celebrate, not that +this dim place is very festive. You?" + +"I--I think I'll stay aboard." + +"Well, if you change your mind, I'll be down there somewhere," Ringg +said. "See you later, shipmate." He raised his closed fist in farewell, +and went. + +Bart stood in the corridor, feeling astounded and strange. He _belonged_ +here! He had a right to be on board the ship! He wasn't quite sure what +to do next. + +A Lhari, as short and fat as a Lhari could possibly be and still be a +Lhari, came or rather waddled out of the captain's office. He saw Bartol +and called, "Are you the new First Class? I'm Rugel, coordinator." + +Rugel had a huge cleft darkish scar across his lip, and there were two +bands on his cloak. He was completely bald, and he puffed when he +walked. "Vorongil asked me to show you around. You'll share quarters +with Ringg--no sense shifting another man. Come down and see the chart +rooms--or do you want to leave your kit in your cabin first?" + +"I don't have much," Bart said. + +Rugel's seamed lip widened. "That's the way--travel light when you're on +the drift," he confirmed. + +Rugel took him down to the drive rooms, and here for a moment, in wonder +and awe, Bart almost forgot his disguise. The old Lhari led him to the +huge computer which filled one wall of the room, and Bart was smitten +with the universality of mathematics. Here was something he _knew_ he +could handle. + +He could do this programming, easily enough. But as he stood before the +banks of complex, yet beautifully familiar levers, the sheer exquisite +complexity of it overcame him. To compute the movements of thousands of +stars, all moving at different speeds in different directions in the +vast swirling directionless chaos of the Universe--and yet to be sure +that every separate movement would come out to within a quarter of a +mile! It was something that no finite brain--man or Lhari--could ever +accomplish, yet their limited brains had built these computers that +_could_ do it. + +Rugel watched him, laughing softly. "Well, you'll have enough time down +here. I like to have youngsters who are still in the middle of a love +affair with their work. Come along, and I'll show you your cabin." + +Rugel left him in a cabin amidships; small and cramped, but tidy, two of +the oval bunks slung at opposite ends, a small table between them, and +drawers filled with pamphlets and manuals and maps. Furtively, ashamed +of himself, yet driven by necessity, Bart searched Ringg's belongings, +wanting to get some idea of what possessions he ought to own. He looked +around the shower and toilet facilities with extra care--this was +something he _couldn't_ slip up on and be considered even halfway +normal. He was afraid Ringg would come in, and see him staring curiously +at something as ordinary, to a Lhari, as a cake of soap. + +He decided to go down to the port again and look around the shops. He +was not afraid of being unable to handle his work. What he feared was +something subtler--that the small items of everyday living, something as +simple as a nail file, would betray him. + +On his way he looked into the Recreation Lounge, filled with comfortable +seats, vision-screens, and what looked like simple pinball machines and +mechanical games of skill. There were also stacks of tapereels and +headsets for listening, not unlike those humans used. Bart felt +fascinated, and wanted to explore, but decided he could do that later. + +Somehow he took the wrong turn coming out of the Recreation Lounge, and +went through a door where the sudden dimming of lights told him he was +in Mentorian quarters. The sudden darkness made him stumble, thrust out +his hands to keep from falling, and an unmistakably human voice said, +"Ouch!" + +"I'm sorry," Bart said in Universal, without thinking. + +"I admit the lights are dim," said the voice tartly, and Bart found +himself looking down, as his eyes adjusted to the new light level, at a +girl. + +She was small and slight, in a metallic blue cloak that swept out, like +wings, around her thin shoulders; the hood framed a small, kittenlike +face. She was a Mentorian, and she was human, and Bart's eyes rested +with comfort on her face; she, on the other hand, was looking up with +anxiety and uneasy distrust. _That's right--I'm a Lhari, a nonhuman +freak!_ + +"I seem to have missed my way." + +"What are you looking for, sir? The medical quarters are through here." + +"I'm looking for the elevator down to the crew exits." + +"Through here," she said, reopening the door through which he had come, +and shading her large, lovely, long-lashed eyes with a slender hand. +"You took the wrong turn. Are you new on board? I thought all ships were +laid out exactly alike." + +"I've only worked on passenger ships." + +"I believe they are somewhat different," said the girl in good Lhari. +"Well, that is your way, sir." + +He felt as if he had been snubbed and dismissed. + +"What is your name?" + +She stiffened as if about to salute. "Meta of the house of Marnay Three, +sir." + +Bart realized he was doing something wholly out of character for a +Lhari--chatting casually with a Mentorian. With a wistful glance at the +pretty girl, he said a stiff "Thank you" and went down the ramp she had +indicated. He felt horribly lonely. Being a freak wasn't going to be +much fun. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + + +He saw the girl again next day, when they checked in for blastoff. She +was seated at a small desk, triangular like so much of the Lhari +furniture, checking a register as they came out of the Decontam room, +making sure they downed their greenish solution of microorganisms. + +"Papers, please?" She marked, and Bart noticed that she was using a red +pencil. + +"Bartol," she said aloud. "Is that how you pronounce it?" She made small +scribbles in a sort of shorthand with the red pencil, then made other +marks with the black one in Lhari; he supposed the red marks were her +own private memoranda, unreadable by the Lhari. + +"Next, please." She handed a cup of the greenish stuff to Ringg, behind +him. Bart went down toward the drive room, and to his own surprise, +found himself wishing the girl were a mathematician rather than a medic. +It would have been pleasant to watch her down there. + +Old Rugel, on duty in the drive room, watched Bart strap himself in +before the computer. "Make sure you check all dials at null," he +reminded him, and Bart felt a last surge of panic. + +This was his first cruise, except for practice runs at the Academy! Yet +his rating called him an experienced man on the Polaris run. He'd had +the Lhari training tape, which was supposed to condition his responses, +but would it? He tried to clench his fists, drove a claw into his palm, +winced, and commanded himself to stay calm and keep his mind on what he +was doing. + +It calmed him to make the routine check of his dials. + +"Strapdown check," said a Lhari with a yellowed crest and a rasping +voice. "New man, eh?" He gave Bart's straps perfunctory tugs at +shoulders and waist, tightened a buckle. "Karol son of Garin." + +Bells rang in the ship, and Bart felt the odd, tonic touch of fear. +_This was it._ + +Vorongil strode through the door, his banded cloak sweeping behind him, +and took the control couch. + +"Ready from fueling room, sir." + +"Position," Vorongil snapped. + +Bart heard himself reading off a string of figures in Lhari. His voice +sounded perfectly calm. + +"Communication." + +"Clear channels from Pylon Dispatch, sir." It was old Rugel's voice. + +"Well," Vorongil said, slowly and almost reflectively, "let's take her +up then." + +He touched some controls. The humming grew. Then, swift, hard and +crushing, weight mashed Bart against his couch. + +"Position!" Vorongil's voice sounded harsh, and Bart fought the crushing +weight of it. Even his eyeballs ached as he struggled to turn the tiny +eye muscles from dial to dial, and his voice was a dim croak: "Fourteen +seven sidereal twelve point one one four nine...." + +"Hold it to point one one four six," Vorongil said calmly. + +"Point one one four six," Bart said, and his claws stabbed at dials. +Suddenly, in spite of the cold weight on his chest, the pain, the +struggle, he felt as if he were floating. He managed a long, luxurious +breath. He _could_ handle it. He knew what he was doing. + +_He was an Astrogator...._ + +Later, when Acceleration One had reached its apex and the artificial +gravity made the ship a place of comfort again, he went down to the +dining hall with Ringg and met the crew of the _Swiftwing_. There were +twelve officers and twelve crewmen of various ratings like himself and +Ringg, but there seemed to be little social division between them, as +there would have been on a human ship; officers and crew joked and +argued without formality of any kind. + +None of them gave him a second look. Later, in the Recreation Lounge, +Ringg challenged him to a game with one of the pinball machines. It +seemed fairly simple to Bart; he tried it, and to his own surprise, won. + +Old Rugel touched a lever at the side of the room. With a tiny whishing +sound, shutters opened, the light of Procyon Alpha flooded them and he +looked out through a great viewport into bottomless space. + +Procyon Alpha, Beta and Gamma hung at full, rings gently tilted. Beyond +them the stars burned, flaming through the shimmers of cosmic dust. The +colors, the never-ending colors of space! + +And he stood here, in a room full of monsters--_he was one of the +monsters_-- + +"Which one of the planets was it we stopped on?" Rugel asked. "I can't +tell 'em apart from this distance." + +Bartol swallowed; he had almost said _the blue one_. He pointed. +"The--the big one there, with the rings almost edge-on. I think they +call it Alpha." + +"It's their planet," said Rugel. "I guess they can call it what they +want to. How about another game?" + +Resolutely, Bart turned his back on the bewitching colors, and bent over +the pinball machine. + + * * * * * + +The first week in space was a nightmare of strain. He welcomed the hours +on watch in the drive room; there alone he was sure of what he was +doing. Everywhere else in the ship he was perpetually scared, +perpetually on tiptoe, perpetually afraid of making some small and +stupid mistake. Once he actually called Aldebaran a red star, but Rugel +either did not hear the slip or thought he was repeating what one of the +Mentorians--there were two aboard besides the girl--had said. + +The absence of color from speech and life was the hardest thing to get +used to. Every star in the manual was listed by light-frequency waves, +to be checked against a photometer for a specific reading, and it almost +drove Bart mad to go through the ritual when the Mentorians were off +duty and could not call off the color and the equivalent frequency type +for him. Yet he did not dare skip a single step, or someone might have +guessed that he could _see_ the difference between a yellow and a green +star before checking them. + +The Academy ships had had the traditional human signal system of +flashing red lights. Bart was stretched taut all the time, listening for +the small codelike buzzers and ticks that warned him of filled tanks, +leads in need of servicing, answers ready. Ringg's metal-fatigues +testing kit was a bewildering muddle of boxes, meters, rods and +earphones, each buzzing and clicking its characteristic warning. + +At first he felt stretched to capacity every waking moment, his memory +aching with a million details, and lay awake nights thinking his mind +would crack under the strain. Then Alpha faded to a dim bluish shimmer, +Beta was eclipsed, Gamma was gone, Procyon dimmed to a failing spark; +and suddenly Bart's memory accustomed itself to the load, the new habits +were firmly in place, and he found himself eating, sleeping and working +in a settled routine. + +He belonged to the _Swiftwing_ now. + +Procyon was almost lost in the viewports when a sort of upswept tempo +began to run through the ship, an undercurrent of increased activity. +Cargo was checked, inventoried and strapped in. Ringg was given four +extra men to help him, made an extra tour of the ship, and came back +buzzing like a frantic cricket. Bart's computers told him they were +forging toward the sidereal location assigned for the first of the +warp-drive shifts, which would take them some fifteen light-years toward +Aldebaran. + +On the final watch before the warp-drive shift, the medical officer came +around and relieved the Mentorians from duty. Bart watched them go, with +a curious, cold, crawling apprehension. Even the Mentorians, trusted by +the Lhari--even these were put into cold-sleep! Fear grabbed his +insides. + +_No human had ever survived the shift into warp-drive_, the Lhari said. +Briscoe, his father, Raynor Three--they thought they had proved that the +Lhari lied. If they were right, if it was a Lhari trick to reinforce +their stranglehold on the human worlds and keep the warp-drive for +themselves, then Bart had nothing to fear. But he was afraid. + +Why did the Mentorians endure this, never quite trusted, isolated among +aliens? + +Raynor Three had said, _Because I belong in space, because I'm never +happy anywhere else_. Bart looked out the viewport at the swirl and burn +of the colors there. Now that he could never speak of the colors, it +seemed he had never been so wholly and wistfully aware of them. They +symbolized the thing he could never put into words. + +_So that everyone can have this. Not just the Lhari._ + +Rugel watched the Mentorians go, scowling. "I wish medic would find a +way to keep them alive through warp," he said. "My Mentorian assistant +could watch that frequency-shift as we got near the bottom of the arc, +and I'll bet she could _see_ it. They can see the changes in intensity +faster than I can plot them on the photometer!" + +Bart felt goosebumps break out on his skin. Rugel spoke as if the +certain death of humans, Mentorians, was a fact. Didn't the Lhari +themselves know it was a farce? _Or was it?_ + +Vorongil himself took the controls for the surge of Acceleration Two, +which would take them past the Light Barrier. Bart, watching his +instruments to exact position and time, saw the colors of each star +shift strangely, moment by moment. The red stars seemed hard to see. The +orange-yellow ones burned suddenly like flame; the green ones seemed +golden, the blue ones almost green. Dimly, he remembered the old story +of a "red shift" in the lights of approaching stars, but here he saw it +pure, a sight no human eyes had ever seen. A sight that _no_ eyes had +seen, human or otherwise, for the Lhari could not see it.... + +"Time," he said briefly to Vorongil, "Fifteen seconds...." + +Rugel looked across from his couch. Bart felt that the old, scarred +Lhari could read his fear. Rugel said through a wheeze, "No matter how +old you get, Bartol, you're still scared when you make a warp-shift. But +relax, computers don't make mistakes." + +"Catalyst," Vorongil snapped, "Ready--_shift!_" + +At first there was no change; then Bart realized that the stars, through +the viewport, had altered abruptly in size and shade and color. They +were not sparks but strange streaks, like comets, crossing and +recrossing long tails that grew, longer and longer, moment by moment. +The dark night of space was filled with a crisscrossing blaze. They were +moving faster than light, they saw the light left by the moving Universe +as each star hurled in its own invisible orbit, while they tore +incredibly through it, faster than light itself.... + +Bart felt a curious, tingling discomfort, deep in his flesh; almost an +itching, a stinging in his very bones. + +_Lhari flesh is no different from ours...._ + +Space, through the viewport, was no longer space as he had come to know +it, but a strange eerie limbo, the star-tracks lengthening, shifting +color until they filled the whole viewport with shimmering, gray, +recrossing light. The unbelievable reaction of warp-drive thrust them +through space faster than the lights of the surrounding stars, faster +than imagination could follow. + +The lights in the drive chamber began to dim--or was he blacking out? +The stinging in his flesh was a clawed pain. + +Briscoe lived through it.... + +_They say._ + +The whirling star-tracks fogged, coiled, turned colorless worms of +light, went into a single vast blur. Dimly Bart saw old Rugel slump +forward, moaning softly; saw the old Lhari pillow his bald head on his +veined arms. Then darkness took him; and thinking it was death, Bart +felt only numb, regretful failure. _I've failed, we'll always fail. The +Lhari were right all long._ + +_But we tried! By God, we tried!_ + +"Bartol?" A gentle hand, cat claws retracted, came down on his shoulder. +Ringg bent over him. Good-natured rebuke was in his voice. "Why didn't +you tell us you got a bad reaction, and ask to sign out for this shift?" +he demanded. "Look, poor old Rugel's passed out again. He just won't +admit he can't take it--but one idiot on a watch is enough! Some people +just feel as if the bottom's dropped out of the ship, and that's all +there is to it." + +Bart hauled his head upright, fighting a surge of stinging nausea. His +bones itched inside and he was damnably uncomfortable, but he was alive. + +"I'm--fine." + +"You look it," Ringg said in derision. "Think you can help me get Rugel +to his cabin?" + +Bart struggled to his feet, and found that when he was upright he felt +better. "Wow!" he muttered, then clamped his mouth shut. He was supposed +to be an experienced man, a Lhari hardened to space. He said woozily, +"How long was I out?" + +"The usual time," Ringg said briskly, "about three seconds--just while +we hit peak warp-drive. Feels longer, so they tell me, sometimes--time's +funny, beyond light-speeds. The medic says it's purely psychological. +I'm not so sure. I _itch_, blast it!" + +He moved his shoulders in a squirming way, then bent over Rugel, who was +moaning, half insensible. "Catch hold of his feet, Bartol. Here--ease +him out of his chair. No sense bothering the medics this time. Think you +can manage to help me carry him down to the deck?" + +"Sure," Bart said, finding his feet and his voice. He felt better as +they moved along the hallway, the limp, muttering form of the old Lhari +insensible in their arms. They reached the officer's deck, got Rugel +into his cabin and into his bunk, hauled off his cloak and boots. Ringg +stood shaking his head. + +"And they say Captain Vorongil's so tough!" + +Bart made a questioning noise. + +"Why, just look," said Ringg. "He knows it would make poor old Rugel +feel as if he wasn't good for much--to order him into his bunk and make +him take dope like a Mentorian for every warp-shift. So we have this to +go through at every jump!" He sounded cross and disgusted, but there was +a rough, boyish gentleness as he hauled the blanket over the bald old +Lhari. He looked up, almost shyly. + +"Thanks for helping me with Old Baldy. We usually try to get him out +before Vorongil officially takes notice. Of course, he sort of keeps his +back turned," Ringg said, and they laughed together as they turned back +to the drive room. Bart found himself thinking, _Ringg's a good kid_, +before he pulled himself up, in sudden shock. + +He _had_ lived through warp-drive! Then, indeed, the Lhari had been +lying all along, the vicious lie that maintained their stranglehold +monopoly of star-travel. He was their enemy again, the spy within their +gates, like Briscoe, to be hunted down and killed, but to bring the +message, loud and clear, to everyone: _The Lhari lied! The stars can +belong to us all!_ + +When he got back to the drive room, he saw through the viewport that the +blur had vanished, the star-trails were clear, distinct again, their +comet-tails shortening by the moment, their colors more distinct. + +The Lhari were waiting, a few poised over their instruments, a few more +standing at the quartz window watching the star-trails, some squirming +and scratching and grousing about "space fleas"--the characteristic +itching reaction that seemed to be deep down inside the bones. + +Bart checked his panels, noted the time when they were due to snap back +into normal space, and went to stand by the viewport. The stars were +reappearing, seeming to steady and blaze out in cloudy splendor through +the bright dust. They burned in great streamers of flame, and for the +moment he forgot his mission again, lost in the beauty of the fiery +lights. He drew a deep, shaking gasp. It was worth it all, to see this! +He turned and saw Ringg, silent, at his shoulder. + +"Me, too," Ringg said, almost in a whisper. "I think every man on board +feels that way, a little, only he won't admit it." His slanted gray eyes +looked quickly at Bart and away. + +"I guess we're almost down to L-point. Better check the panel and report +nulls, so medic can wake up the Mentorians." + + * * * * * + +The _Swiftwing_ moved on between the stars. Aldebaran loomed, then faded +in the viewports; another shift jumped them to a star whose human name +Bart did not know. Shift followed shift, spaceport followed spaceport, +sun followed sun; men lived on most of these worlds, and on each of them +a Lhari spaceport rose, alien and arrogant. And on each world men looked +at Lhari with resentful eyes, cursing the race who kept the stars for +their own. + +Cargo amassed in the holds of the _Swiftwing_, from worlds beyond all +dreams of strangeness. Bart grew, not bored, but hardened to the +incredible. For days at a time, no word of human speech crossed his +mind. + +The blackout at peak of each warp-shift persisted. Vorongil had given +him permission to report off duty, but since the blackouts did not +impair his efficiency, Bart had refused. Rugel told him that this was +the moment of equilibrium, the peak of the faster-than-light motion. + +"Perhaps a true limiting speed beyond which nothing will ever go," +Vorongil said, touching the charts with a varnished claw. Rugel's +scarred old mouth spread in a thin smile. + +"Maybe there's no such thing as a limiting speed. Someday we'll reach +true simultaneity--enter warp, and come out just where we want to be, at +the same time. Just a split-second interval. That will be real +transmission." + +Ringg scoffed, "And suppose you get even better--and come out of warp +_before_ you go into it? What then, Honorable Bald One?" + +Rugel chuckled, and did not answer. Bart turned away. It was not easy to +keep on hating the Lhari. + +There came a day when he came on watch to see drawn, worried faces; and +when Ringg came into the drive room they threw their levers on +_automatic_ and crowded around him, their crests bobbing in question and +dismay. Vorongil seemed to emit sparks as he barked at Ringg, "You found +it?" + +"I found it. Inside the hull lining." + +Vorongil swore, and Ringg held up a hand in protest. "I only _locate_ +metals fatigue, sir--I don't _make_ it!" + +"No help for it then," Vorongil said. "We'll have to put down for +repairs. How much time do we have, Ringg?" + +"I give it thirty hours," Ringg said briefly, and Vorongil gave a long +shrill whistle. "Bartol, what's the closest listed spaceport?" + +Bart dived for handbooks, manuals, comparative tables of position, and +started programming information. The crew drifted toward him, and by the +time he finished feeding in the coded information, a row three-deep of +Lhari surrounded him, including all the officers. Vorongil was right at +his shoulder when Bart slipped on his earphones and started decoding the +punched strips that fed out the answers from the computer. + +"Nearest port is Cottman Four. It's almost exactly thirty hours away." + +"I don't like to run it that close." Vorongil's face was bitten deep +with lines. He turned to Ramillis, head of Maintenance. "Do we need +spare parts? Or just general repairs?" + +"Just repairs, sir. We have plenty of shielding metal. It's a long job +to get through the hulls, but there's nothing we can't fix." + +Vorongil flexed his clawed hands nervously, stretching and retracting +them. "Ringg, you're the fatigue expert. I'll take your word for it. Can +we make thirty hours?" + +Ringg looked pale and there was none of his usual boyish nonsense when +he said, "Captain, I swear I wouldn't risk Cottman. You know what +crystallization's like, sir. We can't get through that hull lining to +repair it in space, if it _does_ go before we land. We wouldn't have the +chance of a hydrogen atom in a tank of halogens." + +Vorongil's slanted eyebrows made a single unbroken line. "That's the +word then. Bartol, find us the closest star with a planet--spaceport or +not." + +Bart's hands were shaking with sudden fear. He checked each digit of +their present position, fed it into the computer, waited, finally wet +his lips and plunged, taking the strip from a computer. + +"This small star, called Meristem. It's a--" he bit his lip, hard; he +had almost said _green_--"type Q, two planets with atmosphere within +tolerable limits, not classified as inhabited." + +"Who owns it?" + +"I don't have that information on the banks, sir." + +Vorongil beckoned the Mentorian assistant. So apart were Lhari and +Mentorian on these ships that Bart did not even know his name. He said, +"Look up a star called Meristem for us." The Mentorian hurried away, +came back after a moment with the information that it belonged to the +Second Galaxy Federation, but was listed as unexplored. + +Vorongil scowled. "Well, we can claim necessity," he said. "It's only +eight hours away, and Cottman's thirty. Bartol, plot us a warp-drive +shift that will land us in that system, and on the inner of the two +planets, within nine hours. If it's a type Q star, that means dim +illumination, and no spaceport mercury-vapor installations. We'll need +as much sunlight as we can get." + +It was the first time that Bart, unaided, had had the responsibility of +plotting a warp-drive shift. He checked the coordinates of the small +green star three times before passing them along to Vorongil. Even so, +when they went into Acceleration Two, he felt stinging fear. _If I +plotted wrong, we could shift into that crazy space and come out +billions of miles away...._ + +But when the stars steadied and took on their own colors, the blaze of a +small green sun was steady in the viewport. + +"Meristem," Vorongil said, taking the controls himself. "Let's hope the +place is really uninhabited and that catalogue's up to date, lads. It +wouldn't be any fun to burn up some harmless village, or get shot at by +barbarians--and we're setting down with no control-tower signals and no +spaceport repair crews. So let's hope our luck holds out for a while +yet." + +Bart, feeling the minute, unsteady trembling somewhere in the +ship--_Imagination_, he told himself, _you can't feel metal-fatigue +somewhere in the hull lining_--echoed the wish. He did not know that he +had already had the best luck of his unique voyage, or realize the +fantastic luck that had brought him to the small green star Meristem. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + + +The crews of repairmen were working down in the hull, and the +_Swiftwing_ was a hell of clanging noise and shuddering heat. +Maintenance was working overtime, but the rest of the crew, with nothing +to do, stood around in the recreation rooms, tried to play games, cursed +the heat and the dreary dimness through the viewports, and twitched at +the boiler-factory racket from the holds. + +Toward the end of the third day, the biologist reported air, water and +gravity well within tolerable limits, and Captain Vorongil issued +permission for anyone who liked, to go outside and have a look around. + +Bart had a sort of ship-induced claustrophobia. It was good to feel +solid ground under his feet and the rays of a sun, even a green sun, on +his back. Even more, it was good to get away from the constant presence +of his shipmates. During this enforced idleness, their presence +oppressed him unendurably--so many tall forms, gray skins, feathery +crests. He was always alone; for a change, he felt that he'd like to be +alone without Lhari all around him. + +But as he moved away from the ship, Ringg dropped out of the hatchway +and hailed him. "Where are you going?" + +"Just for a walk." + +Ringg drew a deep breath of weariness. "That sounds good. Mind if I come +along?" + +Bart did, but all he could say was, "If you like." + +"How about let's get some food from the rations clerk, and do some +exploring?" + +The sun overhead was a clear greenish-gold, the sky strewn with soft +pale clouds that cast racing shadows on the soft grass underfoot, +fragrant pinkish-yellow stuff strewn with bright vermilion puff-balls. +Bart wished he were alone to enjoy it. + +"How are the repairs coming?" + +"Pretty well. But Karol got his hand half scorched off, poor fellow. +Just luck the same thing didn't happen to me." Ringg added. "You know +that Mentorian--the young one, the medic's assistant?" + +"I've seen her. Her name's Meta, I think." Suddenly, Bart wished the +Mentorian girl were with him here. It would be nice to hear a human +voice. + +"Oh, is it a female? Mentorians all look alike to me," Ringg said, while +Bart controlled his face with an effort. "Be that as it may, she saved +me from having the same thing happen. I was just going to lean against a +strip of sheet metal when she _screamed_ at me. Do you think they can +really _see_ heat vibrations? She called it _red_-hot." + +They had reached a line of tall cliffs, where a steep rock-fall divided +off the plain from the edge of the mountains. A few slender, drooping, +gold-leaved trees bent graceful branches over a pool. Bart stood +fascinated by the play of green sunlight on the emerald ripples, but +Ringg flung himself down full length on the soft grass and sighed +comfortably. "Feels good." + +"Too comfortable to eat?" + +They munched in companionable silence. "Look," said Ringg at last, +pointing toward the cliffs, "Holes in the rocks. Caves. I'd like to +explore them, wouldn't you?" + +"They look pretty gloomy to me. Probably full of monsters." + +Ringg patted the hilt of his energon-ray. "This will handle anything +short of an armor-plated saurian." + +Bart shuddered. As part of uniform, he, too, had been issued one of the +energon-rays; but he had never used it and didn't intend to. "Just the +same, I'd rather stay out here in the sun." + +"It's better than vitamin lamps," Ringg admitted, "even if it's not very +bright." + +Bart wondered, suddenly and worriedly, about the effects of green +sunburn on his chemically altered skin tone. + +"Well, let's enjoy it while we can," Ringg said, "because it seems to be +clouding over. I wouldn't be surprised if it rained." He yawned. "I'm +getting bored with this voyage. And yet I don't want it to end, because +then I'll have to fight it out all over again with my family. My father +owns a hotel, and he wants me in the family business, not five hundred +light-years away. None of our family have ever been spacemen before," he +explained, "and they don't understand that living on one planet would +drive me out of my mind." He sighed. "How did you explain it to your +people--that you couldn't be happy in the mud? Or are you a career man?" + +"I guess so. I never thought about doing anything else," Bart said +slowly, Ringg's story had touched him; he had never realized quite so +fully how much alike the two races were, how human the Lhari problems +and dreams could seem. _Why, of course, the Lhari aren't all spacemen. +They have hotel keepers and garbage men and dentists just as we do. +Funny, you never think of them except in space._ + +"My mother died when I was very young," Bart said, choosing his words +very carefully. "My father owned a fleet of interplanetary ships." + +"But you wanted the real thing, deep space, the stars," Ringg said. "How +did he feel about that?" + +"He would have understood," Bart said, unable to keep emotion out of his +voice, "but he's dead now. He died, not long ago." + +Ringg's eyes were bright with sympathy. "While you were off on the +drift? Bad luck," he said gently. He was silent, and when he spoke again +it was in a very different tone. + +"But some of the older generation--I had a professor in training school, +funny old chap, bald as the hull of the _Swiftwing_. Taught us +cosmic-ray analysis, and what he didn't know about spiral nebulae could +be engraved on my fifth toe-claw, and he'd never been off the face of +the planet. Not even to one of the moons! He was the supervisor of my +student lodge, and oh, was he a--" The phrase Ringg used meant, +literally, _a soft piece of cake_. + +"His feet may have been buried in mud, but his head was off in the Great +Nebula. We had some wild times," Ringg reminisced. "We'd slip away to +the city--strictly against rules, it was an old-style school--and draw +lots for one of us to stay home and sign in for all twelve. You see, +he'd sit there reading, and when one of us came in, just shove the wax +at us, with his nose in a text on cosmic dust, never looking up. So the +one who stayed home would scrawl a name on it, walk out the back door, +come around and sign in again. When there were twelve signed in, of +course, the old chap would go up to bed, and late that night the one who +stayed in would sneak down and let us in." + +Ringg sat up suddenly, touching his cheek. "Was that a drop of rain? And +the sun's gone. I suppose we ought to start back, though I hate to leave +those caves unexplored." + +Bart bent to gather up the debris of their meal. He flinched as +something hard struck his arm. "Ouch! What was that?" + +Ringg cried out in pain. "It's hail!" + +Sharp pieces of ice were suddenly pelting, raining down all around them, +splattering the ground with a harsh, bouncing clatter. Ringg yelled, +"Come on--it's big enough to _flatten_ you!" + +It looked to Bart as if it were at least golf-ball size, and seemed to +be getting bigger by the moment. Lightning flashed around them in sudden +glare. They ducked their heads and ran. + +"Get in under the lee of the cliffs. We couldn't possibly make it back +to the _Swift_--" Ringg's voice broke off in a cry of pain; he slumped +forward, pitched to his knees, then slid down and lay still. + +"What's the matter?" Bart, arm curved to protect his skull, bent over +the fallen Lhari, but Ringg, his forehead bleeding, lay insensible. Bart +felt sharp pain in his arm, felt the hail hard as thrown stones raining +on his head. Ringg was out cold. _If they stayed in this_, Bart thought +despairingly, _they'd both be dead!_ + +Crouching, trying to duck his head between his shoulders, Bart got his +arms under Ringg's armpits and half-carried, half-dragged him under the +lee of the cliffs. He slipped and slid on the thickening layer of ice +underfoot, lost his footing, and came down, hard, one arm twisted +between himself and the cliff. He cried out in pain, uncontrollably, and +let Ringg slip from his grasp. The Lhari boy lay like the dead. + +Bart bent over him, breathing hard, trying to get his breath back. The +hail was still pelting down, showing no signs of lessening. About five +feet away, one of the dark gaps in the cliff showed wide and menacing, +but at least, Bart thought, the hail couldn't come in there. He stooped +and got hold of Ringg again. A pain like fire went through the wrist he +had smashed against the rock. He set his teeth, wondering if it had +broken. The effort made him see stars, but he managed somehow to hoist +Ringg up again and haul him through the pelting hail toward the yawning +gap. It darkened around them, and, blessedly, the battering, bruising +hail could not reach them. Only an occasional light splinter of ice blew +with the bitter wind into the mouth of the cave. + +Bart laid Ringg down on the floor, under the shelter of the rock +ceiling. He knelt beside him, and spoke his name, but Ringg just moaned. +His forehead was covered with blood. + +Bart took one of the paper napkins from the lunch sack and carefully +wiped some of it away. His stomach turned at the deep, ugly cut, which +immediately started oozing fresh blood. He pressed the edges of the cut +together with the napkin, wondering helplessly how much blood Ringg +could lose without danger, and if he had concussion. If he tried to go +back to the ship and fetch the medic for Ringg, he'd be struck by hail +himself. From where he stood, it seemed that the hailstones were getting +bigger by the minute. + +Ringg moaned, but when Bart knelt beside him again he did not answer. +Bart could hear only the rushing of wind, the noise of the splattering +hail and a sound of water somewhere--_or was that a rustle of scales, a +dragging of strange feet?_ He looked through the darkness into the +depths of the cave, his hand on his shock-beam. He was afraid to turn +his back on it. + +_This is nonsense,_ he told himself firmly, _I'll just walk back there +and see what there is._ + +At his belt he had the small flashlamp, excessively bright, that was, +like the energon-beam shocker, a part of regulation equipment. He took +it out, shining it on the back wall of the cave; then drew a long breath +of startlement and for a moment forgot Ringg and his own pain. + +For the back wall of the cave was an exquisite fall of crystal! Minerals +glowed there, giant crystals, like jewels, crusted with strange +lichen-like growths and colors. There were pale blues and greens and, +shimmering among them, a strangely colored crystalline mineral that he +had never seen before. It was blue--_No_, Bart thought, _that's just the +light, it's more like red--no, it can't be like_ both _of them at once, +and it isn't really like either. In this light--_ + +Ringg moaned, and Bart, glancing round, saw that he was struggling to +sit up. He ran back to him, dropping to his knees at Ringg's side. "It's +all right, Ringg, lie still. We're under cover now." + +"Wha' happened?" Ringg said blurrily. "Head hurts--all sparks--all the +pretty lights--can't _see_ you!" He fumbled with loose, uncoordinated +fingers at his head and Bart grabbed at him before he poked a claw in +his eye. "Don't _do_ that," Ringg complained, "can't _see_--" + +_He must have a bad concussion then. That's a nasty cut._ Gently, he +restrained the Lhari boy's hands. + +"Bartol, what happened?" + +Bart explained. Ringg tried to move, but fell limply back. + +"Weren't you hurt? I thought I heard you cry out." + +"A cut or two, but nothing serious," Bart said. "I think the hail's +stopped. Lie still, I'd better go back to the ship and get help." + +"Give me a hand and I can walk," Ringg said, but when he tried to sit +up, he flinched, and Bart said, "You'd better lie still." He knew that +head injuries should be kept very quiet; he was almost afraid to leave +Ringg for fear the Lhari boy would have another delirious fit and hurt +himself, but there was no help for it. + +The hail had stopped, and the piled heaps were already melting, but it +was bitterly cold. Bart wrapped himself in the silvery cloak, glad of +its warmth, and struggled back across the slushy, ice-strewn meadow that +had been so pink and flowery in the sunshine. The _Swiftwing_, a +monstrous dark egg looming in the twilight, seemed like home. Bart felt +the heavenly warmth close around him with a sigh of pure relief, but the +Second Officer, coming up the hatchway, stopped in consternation: + +"You're covered with blood! The hailstorm--" + +"I'm all right," Bart said, "but Ringg's been hurt. You'll need a +stretcher." Quickly, he explained. "I'll come with you and show you--" + +"You'll do no such thing," the officer said. "You look as if you'd been +caught out in a meteor shower, feathertop! We can find the place. You go +and have those cuts attended to, and--what's wrong with your wrist? +Broken?" + +Bart heard, like an echo, the frightening words: _Don't break any bones. +You won't pass an X-ray._ + +"It's all right, sir. When I get washed up--" + +"That's an _order_," snapped the officer, "do you think, on this +pestilential unlucky planet, we can afford any _more_ bad luck? Metals +fatigue, Karol burned so badly the medic thinks he may never use his +hand again, and now you and Ringg getting yourselves laid up and out of +action? The medic will help me with Ringg; that Mentorian girl can look +after you. Get moving!" + +He hurried away, and Bart, his head beginning to hurt, walked slowly up +the ramp. His whole arm felt numb, and he supported it with his good +hand. + +In the small infirmary, Karol lay groaning in a bunk, his arm bound in +bandages, his head moving from side to side. The Mentorian girl Meta +turned, charging a hypo. She looked pale and drawn. She went to Karol, +uncovering his other arm, and made the injection; almost immediately the +moaning stopped and Karol lay still. Meta sighed and drew a hand over +her brow, brushing away feathery wisps that escaped from the cap tied +over her hair. + +"Bartol? You're hurt? Not more burns, I hope?" + +_She looks just like a fluffy little kitten_, Bart thought +incongruously. Fatigue was beginning to blur his reactions. + +"Only a few cuts," he said, in Universal, though Meta had spoken Lhari. +In his weariness and pain he was homesick for the sound of a familiar +word. "Ringg and I were both caught in the hailstorm. He's badly hurt." + +"Sit down here." + +Bart sat. Meta's hands were skillful and cool as she sponged the blood +away from his forehead and sprayed it with some pleasantly cold, +mint-smelling antiseptic. Bart leaned back, tireder than he knew, +half-closing his eyes. + +"That hail must have been enormous; we heard it through the hull. +Whatever possessed you to go out into it?" + +"It wasn't hailing when we left," Bart said wearily. "The sun was as +nice and green as it could be." He bit the words off, realizing he had +made a slip, but the girl seemed not to hear, fastening a strip of +plastic over a cut. She picked up his wrist. Bart flinched in spite of +himself, and Meta nodded. "I was afraid of that; it may be broken. +Better let me X-ray it." + +"No!" Bart said harshly. "It's all right, I just twisted it. Nothing's +broken. Just strap it up." + +"It's pretty badly swollen," the girl said, moving it gently. "Does that +hurt? I thought so." + +Bart set his teeth against a cry. "It's all right, I tell you. Just +because it's black and blue--" + +He heard her breath jolt out, her fingers clenched painfully on his +wounded wrist. She did not hear his cry this time. "And the sun was nice +and _green_," she whispered. _"What are you?"_ + +Bart felt himself slip sidewise; he thought for a moment that he would +faint where he sat. Terrified, he looked up at Meta. Their eyes met, and +she said, hardly moving her pale lips, "Your eyes--they're like mine. +Your eyelashes--dark, not white. _You're not a Lhari!_" + +The pain in his wrist suddenly blurred everything else, but Meta +suddenly realized she was gripping it; she gave a little, gentle cry, +and cradled the abused wrist in her palm. + +"No wonder you didn't want it X-rayed," she whispered. Biting her lip, +she glanced, terrified, at Karol, unconscious in the bunk. "No, he can't +hear us; I gave him a heavy shot of hypnin, poor fellow." + +"Go ahead," Bart said bitterly, "yell for your keepers." + +Her gray eyes blazed at him for a moment; then, gently, she laid his +wrist on the table, went to the infirmary door and locked it on the +inside. She turned around, her face white; even her lips had lost their +color. "Who are you?" she whispered. + +"Does it matter now?" + +Shocked comprehension swept over her face. "You don't think I'd _tell_ +them," she whispered. "I heard talk, in the Procyon port, of a spy that +had managed to get through on a Lhari ship." Her face twisted. "You--you +must know about the man on the _Multiphase_, you know they'll--make sure +I can't--hide anything dangerous to the Lhari at the end of the voyage." + +"Meta--" concern for her swept over him--"what will they do to you when +they find out that you know and--didn't tell?" + +Her gray eyes were wide as a kitten's. "Why, nothing. The Lhari would +never _hurt_ anyone, would they?" + +Brainwashed? He set his mouth grimly. "I hope you never find out +different." + +"Why would they need to?" she asked, reasonably. "They could just erase +the memory. I never heard of a Lhari actually hurting anyone. But +something like this--" She wavered, looking at him. "You look so _much_ +like a Lhari! How was it done? How could they do it? Poor fellow, you +must be the--the loneliest man in the Universe!" + +Her voice was compassionate. Bart felt his throat tighten, and had the +awful feeling that he was going to cry. He reached with his good hand +for hers, seeking the comfort of a human touch, but she flinched +instinctively away. + +_He was a monster to this pretty girl...._ + +"It looks so real," she said helplessly. "Yes, now I can see, you have +tiny moons at the base of the nail, and the Lhari don't." Her face +worked. "It's--it's horrifying! How could you--" + +There was a noise in the corridor. Meta gasped and ran to unlock the +door, stood back as the medic and the Second Officer came in, staggering +under Ringg's weight. Carefully, they put him into a bunk. The medic +straightened, shaking his crest. + +"Did you get that wrist taken care of, Bartol?" + +Meta stepped between Bart and the officer, reaching for a roll of +bandage. "I'm working on it now, _rieko mori_," she said. "It only wants +strapping up." But her fingers trembled as she wound the gauze, pulling +each fold tight. + +"How's--Ringg?" + +"Needs quiet," grunted the medic, "and a few sutures. Lucky you got him +under cover when you did." + +Ringg said weakly from his bunk, "Bartol saved my life. I can think of +plenty who'd have run for cover, instead of staying out in that stuff +long enough to drag me inside. Thanks, shipmate." + +Meta's hand, with a swift hard pressure, lingered on Bart's shoulder as +she cut the bandage and fastened the end. "I don't think that will +bother you much now," she whispered, fleetingly. "I didn't dare say it +was broken or they'd insist on X-rays. If it hurts I'll get you +something later for the pain. If you keep it strapped up tight--" + +"It will do," Bart said aloud. The tight bandage made it feel a little +better, but he felt sick and dizzy, and when the medic turned and saw +him, the officer said brusquely "Watch off for you, Bartol. I'll fix the +sign-out sheet, but you go to your cabin and get yourself at least four +hours of sleep. _That's an order._" + +Bart stumbled out of the cabin with relief. Safe in his own quarters, he +flung himself down on his bunk, shaking all over. He'd come safely +through one more nightmare, one more terror--for the moment! Had he put +Meta in danger, too? Was there no end to this ceaseless fear? Not only +for himself, but for others, the innocent bystanders who stumbled into +plots they did not understand? + +_You're doing this for the stars. It's bigger than your fear. It's +bigger than you are, or any of the others...._ + +He was beginning to think it was a lot too big for him. + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + + +The green-sun Meristem lay far behind them. Karol's burns had healed; +only a faint pattern on Ringg's forehead showed where six stitches had +closed the ugly wound in his skull. Bart's wrist, after a few days of +nightmarish pain when he tried to pick up anything heavy, had healed. +Two more warp-drive shifts through space had taken the _Swiftwing_ far, +far out to the rim of the known galaxy, and now the great crimson coal +of Antares burned in their viewports. + +Antares had twelve planets, the outermost of which--far away now, at the +furthest point in its orbit from the point of the _Swiftwing_'s entry +into the system--was a small captive sun. No larger than the planet +Earth, it revolved every ninety years around its huge primary. + +Small as it was, it was blazingly blue-white brilliant, and had a tiny +planet of its own. After their stop on Antares Seven--the largest of the +inhabited planets in this system, where the Lhari spaceport was +located--they would make a careful orbit around the great red primary, +and land on the tiny worldlet of the blue-white secondary before leaving +the Antares system. + +As Bart watched Antares growing in the viewports, he felt a variety of +emotions. On the one hand, he was relieved that as his voyage in secrecy +neared its official destination, he had as yet not incurred unmasking. + +But he felt uncertain about his father's co-conspirators. Would they +return him to human form and send him back to Vega, his part ended? Or +would they, unthinkably, demand that he go on into the Lhari Galaxy? +What would he do, if they did? + +At one moment he entertained fantasies of going on into the Lhari +worlds, returning victorious with the secret of their fueling location, +or of the star-drive itself. At another, he could not wait to be free of +it all. He longed for the society of his own people, yet ached to think +that this voyage between the stars must end so soon. + +They made planetfall at the largest Lhari spaceport Bart had seen; as +always, the Second Officer was the first to go through Decontam and +ashore, returning with exchanged mail and messages for the _Swiftwing_'s +crew. He laughed when he gave Bartol a sealed packet. "So you're not +quite the orphan we've always thought!" + +Bart took it, his heart suddenly pounding, and walked away through the +groups of officers and crew eagerly debating how they would spend their +port leave. He knew what it would be. + +It was on the letterhead of Eight Colors, and it contained no message. +Only an address--and a time. + +He slipped away unobserved to the Mentorian part of the ship to borrow a +cloak from Meta. She did not ask why he wanted it, and stopped him when +he would have told her. "I'd--rather not know." + +She looked very small and very scared, and Bart wished he could comfort +her, but he knew she would shrink from him, repelled and horrified by +his Lhari skin, hair, claws. + +Yet she reached for his hand, gripping it hard in her own dainty one. +"Bartol, be careful," she whispered, then stopped. "Bartol--that's a +Lhari name. What's your real one?" + +"Bart. Bart Steele." + +"Good luck, Bart." There were tears in her gray eyes. + +With the blue cloak folded around his face, hands tucked in the slits at +the side, he felt almost like himself. And as the strange crimson +twilight folded down across the streets, laden with spicy smells and +little, fragrant gusts of wind, he almost savored the sense of being a +conspirator, of playing for high stakes in a network of intrigue between +the stars. He was off on an adventure, and meant to enjoy it. + +The address he had been given was a lavish estate, not far from the +spaceport, across a little gleaming lake that shimmered red, indigo, +violet in the crimson sunset, surrounded by a low wall of what looked +like purple glass. Bart, moving slowly through the gate, felt that eyes +were watching him, and forced himself to walk with slow dignity. + +Up the path. Up a low flight of black-marble stairs. A door swung open +and shut again, closing out the red sunset, letting him into a room that +seemed dim after the months of Lhari lights. There were three men in the +room, but his eyes were drawn instantly to one, standing against an +old-fashioned fireplace. + +He was very tall and quite thin, and his hair was snow-white, though he +did not look old. Bart's first incongruous thought was, _He'd make a +better Lhari than I would._ His firm, commanding voice told Bart at once +that this was the man in charge. "You are Bartol?" He extended his hand. + +Bart took it--and found himself gripped in a judo hold. The other two +men, leaping to place behind him, felt all over his body, not gently. + +"No weapons, Montano." + +"Look here--" + +"Save it," Montano said. "If you're the right person, you'll understand. +If not, you won't have much time to resent it. A very simple test. What +color is that divan?" + +"Green." + +"And those curtains?" + +"Darker green, with gold and red figures." + +The men released him, and the white-haired man smiled. + +"So you actually did it, Steele! I thought for sure the code message was +a fake." He stepped back and looked Bart over from head to foot, +whistling. "Raynor Three is a genius! Claws and everything! What a deuce +of a risk to take though!" + +"You know my name," Bart said, "but who are you?" + +Suspicion came back into the dark eyes. "Does that Mentorian cloak +mean--you've lost your memories, too?" + +"No," said Bart, "it's simpler than that. I'm not Rupert Steele. +I'm--" his voice caught--"I'm his son." + +The man looked startled and shocked. "I suppose that means Rupert is +dead. Dead! It came a little before he expected it, then. So you're +Bart." He sighed. "My name's Montano. This is Hedrick, and I suppose you +recognize Raynor Two." + +Bart blinked. It was the same face, but it was not grim like Raynor +One's, nor expressive and kindly like that of Raynor Three. This one +just looked dangerous. + +"But sit down," Montano said with a wave of his hand, "make yourself +comfortable." + +Hedrick relieved Bart of his cloak; Raynor Two put a cup of some +steaming drink in his hand, passed him a tray of small hot fried things +that tasted crisp and delicious. Bart relaxed, answering questions. _How +old? Only seventeen? And you came all alone on a Lhari ship, working +your way as Astrogator? I must say you've got guts, kid!_ It was +dangerously like the fantasy he had invented. But Montano interrupted at +last. + +"All right, this isn't a party and we haven't all night. I don't suppose +Bart has either. Enough time wasted. Since you walked into this, young +Steele, I take it you know what our plans are, after this?" + +Bart shook his head. "No. Raynor Three sent me to call off your plans, +because of my father--" + +"That sounds like Three," interrupted Raynor Two. "Entirely too +squeamish!" + +Montano said irritably, "We couldn't have done anything without a man on +the _Swiftwing_, and you know it. We still can't. Bart, I suppose you +know about Lharillis." + +"Not by that name." + +"Your next stop. The planetoid of the captive sun. That little hunk of +bare rock out there is the first spot the Lhari visited in this +galaxy--even before Mentor. It's an inferno of light from that little +blue-white sun, so of course they love it--it's just like home to them. +When they found that the inner planets of Antares were inhabited, they +built their spaceport here, so they'd have a better chance at trade." +Montano scowled fiercely. + +"But they wanted that little worldlet. So we went all over it to be sure +there were no rare minerals there, and finally leased it to them, a +century at a time. They mine the place for some kind of powdered +lubricant that's better than graphite--it's all done by robot machinery, +no one's stationed there. Every time a Lhari ship comes through this +system they stop there, even though there's nothing on Lharillis except +a landing field and some concrete bunkers filled with robot mining +machinery. They'll stop there on the way out of this system--and that's +where you come in. We need you on board, to put the radiation counter +out of commission." + +He took a chart from a drawer, spread it out on a table top. "The +simplest way would be to cut these two wires. When the Lhari land, we'll +be there, waiting for them. On board the Lhari ship, there must be full +records--coordinates of their home world, of where they go for their +catalyst fuel--all that." + +Bart whistled. "But won't the crew defend the ship? You can't fight +energon-ray guns!" + +Montano's face was perfectly calm. "No. We won't even try." He handed +Bart a small strip of pale-yellow plastic. + +"Keep this out of sight of the Mentorians," he said. "The Lhari won't be +able to see the color, of course. But when it turns orange, take cover." + +"What is it?" + +"Radiation-exposure film. It's exactly as sensitive to radiation as you +are. When it starts to turn orange, it's picking up radiation. If you're +aboard the ship, get into the drive chambers--they're lead-lined--and +you'll be safe. If you're out on the surface, you'll be all right inside +one of the concrete bunkers. But get under cover before it turns red, +because by that time every Lhari of them will be stone-cold dead." + +Bart let the strip of plastic drop, staring in disbelief at Montano's +cold, cruel face. "Kill them? Kill a whole _shipload_ of them? That's +_murder_!" + +"Not murder. War." + +"We're not at war with the Lhari! We have a treaty with them!" + +"The Federation has, because they don't dare do anything else," Montano +said, his face taking on the fanatic's light, "but some of us dare do +something, some of us aren't going to sit forever and let them strangle +all humanity, hold us down, let us _die_! It's war, Bart, war for +economic survival. Do you suppose the Lhari would hesitate to kill +anyone if we did anything to hurt their monopoly of the stars? Or didn't +they tell you about David Briscoe, how they hunted him down like an +animal--" + +"But how do we know that was Lhari policy, and not just--some fanatic?" +Bart asked suddenly. He thought of the death of the elder Briscoe, and +as always he shivered with the horror of it, but for the first time it +came to him: _Briscoe had provoked his own death. He had physically +attacked the Lhari--threatened them, goaded them to shoot him down in +self-defense!_ "I've been on shipboard with them for months. They're not +wanton murderers." + +Raynor Two made a derisive sound. "Sounds like it might be Three +talking!" + +Hedrick growled, "Why waste time talking? Listen, young Steele, you'll +do as you're told, or else! Who gave you the right to argue?" + +"Quiet, both of you." Montano came and laid his arm around Bart's +shoulders, persuasively. "Bart, I know how you feel. But can't you trust +me? You're Rupert Steele's son, and you're here to carry on what your +father left undone, aren't you? If you fail now, there may not be +another chance for years--maybe not in our lifetimes." + +Bart dropped his head in his hands. _Kill a whole shipload of +Lhari--innocent traders? Bald, funny old Rugel, stern Vorongil, Ringg--_ + +"I don't know what to do!" It was a cry of despair. Bart looked +helplessly around at the men. + +Montano said, almost tenderly, "You couldn't side with the Lhari against +men, could you? Could a son of Rupert Steele do that?" + +Bart shut his eyes, and something seemed to snap within him. His father +had died for this. He might not understand Montano's reasons, but he had +to believe that Montano had them. + +"All right," he said, thickly, "you can count on me." + +When he left Montano's house, he had the details of the plan, had +memorized the location of the device he was to sabotage, and accepted, +from Montano, a pair of dark contact lenses. "The light's hellish out +there," Montano warned. "I know you're half Mentorian, but they don't +even take their Mentorians out there. They're proud of saying no human +foot has ever touched Lharillis." + +When he got back to the Lhari spaceport, Ringg hailed him. "Where have +you been? I hunted the whole port for you! I wouldn't join the party +till you came. What's a pal for?" + +Bart brushed by him without speaking, disregarding Ringg's surprised +stare, and went up the ramp. He reached his own cabin and threw himself +down in his bunk, torn in two. + +Ringg was his friend! Ringg liked him! And if he did what Montano +wanted, Ringg would die. + +Ringg had followed him, and was standing in the cabin door, watching him +in surprise. "Bartol, is something the matter? Is there anything I can +do? Have you had more bad news?" + +Bart's torn nerves snapped. He raised his head and yelled at Ringg, +"Yes, there is something! You can quit following me around and just let +me alone for a change!" + +Ringg took a step backward. Then he said, very softly, "Suit yourself, +Bartol. Sorry." And noiselessly, his white crest held high, he glided +away. + +Bart's resolve hardened. Loneliness had done odd things to him--thinking +of Ringg, a Lhari, one of the freaks who had killed his father, as a +friend! If they knew who he was, they would turn on him, hunt him down +as they'd hunted Briscoe, as they'd hunted his father, as they'd hounded +him from Earth to Procyon. He put his scruples aside. He'd made up his +mind. + +They could all die. What did he care? He was human and he was going to +be loyal to his own kind. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + + +But although he thought he had settled all the conflict, he found that +it returned when he was lying in his bunk, or when he stood in the dome +and watched the stars, while they moved through the Antares system +toward the captive sun and the tiny planet Lharillis. + +_It's in my power to give this to all men...._ + +Should a few Lhari stand in his way? + +He lay in his bunk brooding, thinking of death, staring at the yellow +radiation badge. _If you fail, it won't be in our lifetime._ He'd have +to go back to little things, to the little ships that hauled piddling +cargo between little planets, while all the grandeur of the stars +belonged to the Lhari. And if he succeeded, Vega Interplanet could +spread from star to star, a mighty memorial to Rupert Steele. + +One day Vorongil sent for him. "Bartol," he said, and his voice was not +unkind, "you and Ringg have always been good friends, so don't be angry +about this. He's worried about you--says you spend all your spare time +in your bunk growling at him. Is there anything the matter, feathertop?" + +He sounded so concerned, so--the word struck Bart with hysterical +humor--so _fatherly_, that Bart wanted insanely to laugh and to cry. +Instead he muttered, "Ringg should mind his own business." + +"But it's not like that," Vorongil said. "Look, the _Swiftwing_'s a +world, young fellow, and a small one. If one being in that world is +unhappy, it affects everyone." + +Bart had an absurd, painful impulse--to blurt out the incredible truth +to Vorongil, and try to get the old Lhari to understand what he was +doing. + +But fear held him silent. He was alone, one small human in a ship of +Lhari. Vorongil was frowning at him, and Bart mumbled, "It's nothing, +_rieko mori_." + +"I suppose you're pining for home," Vorongil said kindly. "Well, it +won't be long now." + +The glare of the captive sun grew and grew in the ports, and Bart's +dread mounted. He had, as yet, had no opportunity to put the radiation +counter out of order. It was behind a panel in the drive room, and try +as he might, he could think of no way to get to it unobserved. +Sometimes, in sleepless nights, it seemed that would be the best way. +Just let it go. But then the Lhari would detect Montano's ship, and kill +Montano and his men. + +Did he believe that? He had to believe it. It was the only way he could +possibly justify what he was doing. + +And then his chance came, as so many chances do when one no longer wants +them. The Second Officer met him at the beginning of one watch, saying +worriedly, "Bartol, old Rugel's sick--not fit to be on his feet. Do you +think you can hold down this shift alone, if I drop in and give you a +hand from time to time?" + +"I think so," Bart said, carefully not overemphasizing it. The Second +Officer, by routine, spent half of his time in the drive room, and half +his time down below in Maintenance. When he left, Bart knew he would +have at least half an hour, uninterrupted, in the drive room. He ripped +open the panel, located the wires and hesitated; he didn't quite dare to +cut them outright. + +He jerked one wire loose, frayed the other with a sharp claw until it +was almost in shreds and would break with the first surge of current, +pulled two more connections loose so that they were not making full +contact. He closed the panel and brushed dust over it, and when the +Second Officer came back, Bart was at his own station. + +As Antares fell toward them in the viewport, he found himself worrying +about Mentorians. They would be in cold sleep, presumably in a safe part +of the ship, behind shielding, or Montano would have made provisions for +them. Still, he wished there were a way to warn Meta. + +He was not on watch when they came into the planetary field of +Lharillis, but when he came on shift, he knew at once that the trouble +had been located. The panel was pulled open, the exposed wires hanging, +and Ringg was facing old Rugel, shouting, "Listen, Baldy, I won't have +you accusing me of going light on my work! I checked those panels eight +days ago! Tell me who's going to be opening the panels in here anyhow?" + +"No, no," Rugel said patiently, "I'm not accusing you of anything, only +being careless, young Ringg. You poke with those buzzing instruments and +things, maybe once you tear loose some wires." + +Bart remembered he wasn't supposed to know what was going on. "What's +this all about?" + +It was Rugel who answered. "The radiation counter--the planetary one, +not the one we use in space--is out of order. We don't even need it this +landing--there's no radiation on Lharillis. If it were the landing gear, +now, that would be serious. I'm just trying to tell Ringg--" + +"He's trying to say I didn't check it." Ringg was not to be calmed. +"It's my professional competence--" + +"Forget it," Bart said. "If Rugel isn't sore about it, and if we don't +need it for landing, why worry?" He felt like Judas. + +"Just take a look at my daybook," Ringg insisted, "I checked and marked +it _service fit_! I tell you, somebody was blundering around, opening +panels where they had no business, tore it out by accident, then was too +much of a filthy sneak to report it and get it fixed!" + +"Bartol was on watch alone one night," said the Second Officer, "but you +wouldn't meddle with panels, would you, Bartol?" + +Bart set his teeth, steadying his breathing, as Ringg turned hopefully +to him. "Bartol, did you--by mistake, maybe? Because if you did, it +won't count against your rating, but it means a black mark against +mine!" + +Bart hid his self-contempt in sudden, tense fury. "No, I didn't! You're +going to accuse everybody on the _Swiftwing_, all the way from me to +Vorongil, before _you_ can admit a mistake, aren't you? If you want +somebody to blame, look in a mirror!" + +"Listen, you!" Ringg's pent-up rage exploded. He seized Bart by the +shoulder and Bart moved to throw him off, so that Ringg's outthrust +claws raked only his forearm. In pure reflex he felt his own claws flick +out; they clinched, closed, scuffled, and he felt his claws rake flesh; +half incredulous, saw the thin red line of blood welling from Ringg's +cheek. + +Then Rugel's arms were flung restrainingly around him, and the Second +Officer was wrestling with a furious, struggling Ringg. Bart looked at +his red-tipped claws in ill-concealed horror, but it was lost in a +general gasp of consternation, for Vorongil had flung the drive room +door open, taking in the scene in one blistering glance. + +_"What's going on down here?"_ + +For the first time, Bart understood Vorongil's reputation as a tyrant. +One glance at Ringg's bleeding face and Bart's ripped forearm, and he +did not pause for breath for a good fifteen minutes. By the time he +finished, Bart felt he would rather Ringg's claws had laid him bleeding +to the bone than stand there in the naked contempt of the old Lhari's +freezing eyes. + +"Half-fledged nestlings trying to do a man's work! So someone forgot the +panel, or damaged the panel by mistake--no, not another word," he +commanded, as Ringg's crest came proudly up. "I don't care who did what! +Any more of this, and the one who does it can try his claws on the +captain of the _Swiftwing_!" He looked ugly and dangerous. "I thought +better of you both. Get below, you squalling kittens! Let me not see +your faces again before we land!" + +As they went along the corridor, Ringg turned to Bart, apology and +chagrin in his eyes. "Look--I never meant to get the Bald One down on +us," he said, but Bart kept his face resolutely averted. It was easier +this way, without pretense of friendship. + + * * * * * + +The light from the small captive sun grew more intense. Bart had never +known anything like it, and was glad to slip away and put the dark +contact lenses into his eyes. They made his eyes appear all enormous, +dilated pupil; fearfully, he hoped no one would notice. His arm smarted, +and he did not speak to Ringg all through the long, slow deceleration. + +When the intercom ordered all crew members to the hatchway, Bart +lingered a minute, pinning the yellow radiation badge in a fold of his +cloak. A spasm of fear threatened to overwhelm him again, and +nightmarish loneliness. He felt agonizingly homesick for his own +familiar face. It seemed almost more than he could manage, to step out +into the corridor full of Lhari. + +_It won't be long now._ + +The hatch opened. Even accustomed, as he was, to Lhari lights, Bart +squeezed his eyes shut at the blue-white brilliance that assaulted him +now. Then, opening slitted lids cautiously, he found that he could see. + +A weirdly desolate scene stretched away before them. Bare, burning sand, +strewn with curiously colored rocks, lay piled in strange chaos; then he +realized there was an odd, but perceptible geometry to their +arrangement. They showed alternate crystal and opaque faces. Old Rugel +noted his look of surprise. + +"Never been here before? That's right, you've always worked on the +Polaris run. Well, those aren't true rocks, but living creatures of a +sort. The crystals are alive; the opaque faces are lichens that have +something like chlorophyll and can make their food from air and +sunlight. The rocks and lichens live in symbiosis. They have +intelligence of a sort, but fortunately they don't mind us, or our +automatic mining machinery. Every time, though, we find some new lichen +that's trying to set up a symbiote cycle with the concrete of our +bunkers." + +"And every time," Ringg said cheerfully, "somebody--usually me--has to +see about having them scraped down and repainted. Maybe someday I'll +find a paint the lichens don't like the taste of." + +"Going to explore with Ringg?" Rugel asked, and Ringg, always ready to +let bygones be bygones, grinned and said, "Sure!" Bart could not face +him. + +Vorongil stopped and said, "This your first time here, young Bartol? How +would you like to visit the monument with me? You can see the machinery +on the way back." + +Relieved at not having to go with Ringg, he followed the captain, +falling into step beside him. They moved in silence, along the smooth +stone path. + +"The crystal creatures made this road," Vorongil said at last. "I think +they read minds a little. There used to be a very messy, rocky desert +here, and we used to have to scrabble and scratch our way to the +monument. Then one day a ship--not mine--touched down and discovered +that there was a beautiful smooth road leading up to the monument. And +the lichens never touch that stone--but you probably had all this in +school. Excited, Bartol?" + +"No--no, sir. Why?" + +"Eyes look a bit odd. But who could blame you for being excited? I never +come here without remembering Rhazon and his crew on that long jump. The +longest any Lhari captain ever made. A blind leap in the dark, remember, +Bartol. Through the dark, through the void, with his own crew cursing +him for taking the chance! No one had ever crossed between galaxies--and +remember, they were using the Ancient Math!" + +He paused, and Bart said through a catch of breath. "Quite an +achievement." His badge still looked reassuringly yellow. + +"You young people have no sense of wonder," Vorongil said. "Not that I +blame you. You can't realize what it was like in those days. Oh, we'd +had star-travel for centuries, we were beginning to stagnate. And now +look at us! Oh, they derided Rhazon--said that even if he did find +anyone, any other race, they'd be monsters with whom we could never +communicate. But here we have a whole new galaxy for peaceful trade, a +new mathematics that takes all the hazard out of space travel, our +Mentorian friends and allies." He smiled. "Don't tell the High Council +on me, but I think they deserve a lot more credit than most Lhari care +to give them. Between ourselves, I think the next Panarch may see it +that way." + +Vorongil paused. "Here's the monument." + +It lay between the crystal columns, tall, of pale blue sandstone, with +letters in deep shadow of such contrast that the Lhari could read them: +a high, sheer, imposing stele. Vorongil read the words slowly aloud in +the musical Lhari language: + +"'Here, with thanks to Those who Watch the Great Night, I, Rhazon of +Nedrun, raise a stone of memory. Here we first do touch the new worlds. +Let us never again fear to face the unknown, trusting that the Mind of +All Knowledge still has many surprises in store for all the living.' + +"I think I admire courage more than anything there is, Bartol. Who else +could have dared it? Doesn't it make you proud to be a Lhari?" + +Bart had felt profoundly moved; now he snapped back to awareness of who +he was and what he was doing. So only the Lhari had courage? _Life has +surprises, all right, Captain_, he thought grimly. + +He glanced down at the badge strip of plastic on his arm. It began to +tinge faint orange as he looked, and a chill of fear went over him. He +had to get away somehow--get to cover! + +He looked round and his fear was almost driven from his mind. "Captain, +the rocks! They're moving!" + +Vorongil said, unruffled, "Why, so they are. They do, you know; they +have intelligence of a sort. Though I've never actually _seen_ them move +before, I know they shift places overnight. I wonder what's going on?" +They were edging back, the path widening and changing. "Oh, well, maybe +they're going to do some more landscaping for us. I once knew a captain +who swore they could read his mind." + +Bart saw the slow, inexorable deepening of his badge--he _had_ to get +away. He tensed, impatient; gripped by fists of panic. Somewhere on this +world, Montano and his men were setting up their lethal radiations.... + +_Think of this: a Lhari ship of our own to study, to know how it works, +to see the catalyst and find out where it comes from, to read their +records and star routes. Now we know we can use it without dying in the +warp-drive...._ + +_Think of this: to be human again, yet to travel the stars with men of +my own race!_ + +_It's worth a few deaths!_ + +Even Vorongil? Standing here, talking to him, he might--_say it! You +talked to him as if he'd been your father! Oh, Dad, Dad, what would you +do?_ + +His voice was steady, as he said, "It's very good of you to show me all +this, sir, but the other men will call me a slacker. Hadn't I better get +to a work detail?" + +"Hm, maybe so, feathertop," Vorongil said. "Let me see--well, down this +way is the last row of bunkers. See the humps? You can check inside to +see if they're full or empty and save us the trouble of exploring if +they're all empty. Have a look round inside if you care to--the robot +machinery's interesting." + +Bart tensed; he had wondered how he'd get hidden inside, but he asked, +"Not locked?" + +"Locked?" The old Lhari's short, yellowed crest bobbed in surprise. +"Why? Who ever comes here but our ships? And what could we do with the +stuff but take it back with us? Why locked? You've been on the drift too +long--among those thieving humans! It's time you got back to live among +decent folk again. Well, go along." + +The sting of the words stiffened Bart as he took his leave. The color of +the badge seemed deeper orange.... + +_When it's red, you're dead._ + +_It's true. The Lhari don't steal. They don't even seem to understand +dishonesty._ + +_But they lied--lied to us all...._ + +_Knowing what we were like, maybe! That we'd steal their ships, their +secrets, their lives!_ + +The deepening color of the badge seemed the one visible thing in a +strange glaring world. He walked along the row of bunkers, realizing he +need not check if they were full or empty--the Lhari wouldn't live long +enough to harvest their better-than-graphite lubricant. They'd be dead. + +The last bunker was empty. He looked at his orange badge and stepped +inside, heart pounding so loudly he thought it was an external sound--it +_was_ an external sound, a step. + +"Don't move one inch," said a voice in Universal, and Bart froze, +trembling. He looked cautiously round. + +Montano stood there, spacesuited, his head bare, dark contact lenses +blurring his eyes. And in his hand a drawn blaster was held +level--trained straight at Bart's heart. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + + +After the first moment of panic, Bart realized Montano could not tell +him from a Lhari. He remained motionless. "It's me, Montano--Bart +Steele." + +The man lowered the weapon and put it away. "You nearly got yourself cut +down," he said. "Did you make it all right?" He crossed behind Bart, +inspecting the fastenings of the bunker. + +"It's just luck I didn't shoot you first and ask questions afterward." +Montano drew a deep breath and sat down on the concrete floor. "Anyway, +we're safe in here. We've got about half an hour before the radiation +will reach lethal intensity. It has a very short half-life, though; only +about twelve minutes. If we spend an hour in here, we'll be safe enough. +Did you have any trouble putting the radiation counter out of +commission?" + +So in half an hour they would all be dead. Ringg, Rugel, Captain +Vorongil. Two dozen Lhari, all dead so that Montano could have a Lhari +ship to play with. + +And what then? More killing, more murder? Would Montano start killing +everyone who tried to get the secret of the drive from him? The Lhari +had the star-drive; maybe it belonged to them, maybe not. Maybe humans +had a right to have it, too. But this wasn't the right way. Maybe they +didn't deserve it. + +He turned to look at Montano. The man was leaning back, whistling softly +through his teeth. He felt like telling Montano that he couldn't go +through with it. He started to speak, then stopped, his blood icing +over. + +_If I try to argue with him, I'll never get out of here alive. It means +too much to him._ + +_Do I just salve my conscience with that then? Sit here and let them +die?_ + +With a shock of remembrance, it came to Bart that he had a weapon. He +was armed, this time, with the energon-beam that was part of his +uniform. Montano had evidently forgotten it. _Could_ he kill Montano? +Even to save two dozen Lhari? + +He reached hesitantly toward the beam-gun, quickly thumbed the catch +down to the lowest point, which was simple shock. He froze as Montano +looked in his direction, hand out of sight under his cloak. + +"How many Lhari on board?" + +"Twenty-three, and three Mentorians." + +"Anyone apt to be behind shielding--say, in the drive chamber?" + +"No, I think they're all outside." + +Montano nodded, idly. "Then we won't have to worry." + +Bart slipped his hand toward his weapon. Montano saw the movement, +cocked his head in question; then, as understanding flashed over his +face, his hand darted to his own gun. But Bart had pressed the charge of +his, and Montano slumped over without a cry. He looked so limp that Bart +gasped. Was he dead? Hastily he fumbled the lax hand for a pulse. After +a long, endless moment he saw Montano's chest twitch and knew the man +was breathing. + +Well, Montano would be safe here in the bunker. Hastily, Bart looked at +his timepiece. Half an hour before the radiation was lethal--_for the +Lhari_. Was it already, for him? Shakily, he unfastened the door. He ran +out into the glare, seeing as he ran that his badge was tinged with an +ever-darkening, gold, orange.... + +Montano had said there was a safety margin, but maybe he was wrong, +maybe all Bart would accomplish would be his own death! He ran back +along the line of bunkers, his heart pounding with his racing feet. Two +crewmen came along the line, young white-crested Lhari from the other +watch. He gasped, "Where is the captain?" + +"Down that way--what's wrong, Bartol?" But Bart was gone, his muscles +aching with the unaccustomed effort inside gravity. Putting on speed, he +saw the tall, austere shape of Vorongil, his banded cloak dark against +the glaring light. Vorongil turned, startled, at the sound of his +running feet. + +Suddenly, Bart realized that he was still holding his energon-ray. In +shock and revulsion, he dropped it at Vorongil's feet. + +"Captain, go warn the men! They'll all be dead in half an hour! There +are lethal radiations--" + +"_What?_ Are you sunstruck?" + +Bart stopped cold. Never once had it crossed his mind what he would say +to Vorongil or how he would make the captain believe his story, without +revealing Montano. He started to hold up his badge, realized the Lhari +captain could not see color, and dropped it again, while Vorongil bent +over to pick up the fallen gun. "Are you sunstruck or mad, Bartol? +What's this babble?" + +"Captain, everybody on the _Swiftwing_--" + +"And speak Lhari!" Vorongil demanded, and Bart realized that in his +excitement he had been shouting in Universal. He drew a long, deep +breath. + +"Captain, there are lethal radiations being released here," he said. +"You have just barely half an hour to gather all the men and get them +behind shielding." + +"The radiation counter is out of order," Vorongil remarked, unruffled. +"How can you possibly know--" + +Bart stood in despair. Could he say, _A ship has landed here?_ Could he +say, _Check that bunker?_ Even if Montano was a would-be murderer, he +was human, and Bart could not betray him to the Lhari. There had been +too much betrayal. His voice rose in sudden hysteria. + +"Captain, there's no time! I tell you, you'll all be dead if you don't +believe me! Get the men into the ship! Get them behind shielding and +_then_ check my story! I'm not--" he had gone this far, he might as well +go the whole way--"_I'm not a Lhari!_" + +_"What?"_ + +One of the crewmen came dashing up, his crest sweat-streaked. "Captain! +Rugel has collapsed! We don't know what's wrong with him." + +"Radiation sickness," said Bart, and Vorongil reached out, catching his +shoulder in a cruel taloned grip. Bart said desperately "I'm not a +Lhari! I signed on in disguise--I knew they meant to take the ship, but +I can't let you all die. + +"How can I make you believe me? Here--" In desperation, Bart reached up. +Pain stabbed his eyeballs, fierce, blinding, as he pulled out one of the +contact lenses. He could not see the captain's face through the light, +but suddenly two Lhari were holding his arms. The fear of death was on +Bart, but it no longer mattered. He saw through watering eyes the +ever-deepening orange of the badge disappearing. + +"Here," he said, tearing at it, "radiation. You must be able to see how +dark it is. Even if it's just darkness...." + +Suddenly Vorongil was shouting, but Bart could not hear. Two men were +dragging him along. They hustled him up the ramp of the ship. He could +see again, but his eyes were blurred, and he felt sick, colors spinning +before his eyes, a nauseated ringing in his head. + +At first he thought it was his ears ringing; then he made out the +rising, shrieking wail and fall of the emergency siren, steps running, +shouting voices, the slow clang of the doors. Someone was pushing at +him, babbling words in Lhari, but he heard them through an +ever-increasing distance: Vorongil's face bent over his, only a blurred +crimson blob that flashed away like a vanishing star in the viewport. It +flamed out into green darkness, vanished, and Bart fell through what +seemed to be a bottomless chasm of starless night. + + * * * * * + +When he woke, acceleration had its crushing hand on his chest. He tried +to move, discovered that he was strapped hard into a bunk, and fainted +again. + +Suddenly the pressure was gone and he was lying at ease on the smooth +sheets of a hospital bunk. His eyes were covered with a light bandage, +and there was a sharp pain in his left arm. He tried to move it and +found it was tied down. + +"I think he's coming round," said Vorongil's voice. + +"Yes, and a lot too soon for me," said a bitter voice which Bart +recognized as that of the ship's medic. "Freak!" + +"Listen, Baldy," said Vorongil, "whoever he is, he could have been +blinded or killed. You wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for that +_freak_, as you call him. Bartol, can you hear me? How much light can +your eyes stand?" + +"As much as any Mentorian." Bart found he could move his right arm, and +twitched the bandage away. Vorongil and the medic stood over him; in the +other infirmary bunk a form was lying, covered with a white sheet. +Sickly, Bart wondered if they had found Montano. Vorongil followed the +direction of his eyes. + +"Yes," he said, and his voice held deep bitterness, "poor old Rugel is +dead. He didn't get much of the radiation, but his heart wouldn't stand +it, and gave out." He bowed his head. "He was bald in the service of the +ships when my crest was new-sprouted," he said in deep grief. + +Bart felt the shock of that, even through his own fear. He looked down +at his left arm. It was strapped to a splint, and fluid was dripping +slowly into the vein there. + +Vorongil nodded. "I expect you feel pretty sick. You got a good dose of +radiation yourself, but we've given you a couple of transfusions--one of +the Mentorians matched your blood type, fortunately. It was a close +call." + +The medic was looking down in ill-disguised curiosity. "Fantastic," he +said. "I don't suppose you'd tell me who changed your looks. I admit I +wouldn't believe it until I had a look at your foot bones under the +fluoroscope." + +Vorongil said quietly, "Bartol--I don't suppose that's your real +name--why did you do it?" + +"I couldn't see you all die, sir," Bart said, not expecting them to +believe him. "No more than that." + +The medic said roughly in Lhari, "It's a trick, sir, no more. A trick to +make us trust him!" + +"Why would he risk his own life then?" Vorongil asked. "No, it's more +than that." He hesitated. "We checked the bunkers--in radiation +suits--before we took off. We found a man in one of them." + +"Was he dead?" Bart whispered. + +"No," Vorongil said quietly. + +"Thank God!" It was a heartfelt explosion. Then, apprehensively, "Or did +you kill him?" + +"What do you think we are?" Vorongil said incredulously. "Indeed no. His +own men have probably found him by now. I don't imagine he got half as +much radiation as you did." + +Bart surveyed the needle in his arm. "Why are you taking all this +trouble if I'm going to be put out of the way?" + +"You must have some funny ideas about us," Vorongil said shaking his +head. "That would be a fine way to reward you for saving all of our +lives. No, you're not going to be killed." + +"If I had my way--" the old medic began, and suddenly Vorongil flew into +a rage. "Get out!" + +The medic went stiffly through the door, and Vorongil stood gazing down +at Bart, shaking his yellowed crest. "I don't know what to say to you. +It was a brave thing you did, but perhaps no braver than you've done all +along. Are you a Mentorian?" + +"Only half." + +"Strange," Vorongil said, looking into space, "that I could talk to you +as I did by the monument, and you knew what I meant. But, yes, you would +understand." Abruptly, he recalled himself, and his voice was thin and +cold. + +"I haven't quite decided what to do. I haven't spoken of this to the +crew yet; the fewer who know about this, the better. I told them you got +a heavy dose of radiation, and you're too sick to see visitors." He +sounded kinder when he said, "It's true, you know. It won't hurt you to +get your strength back." + +He went out, and Bart wondered, _Get my strength back for what?_ He lay +back, feeling weaker than he realized. It was a relief to know he wasn't +going to be killed out of hand. And somehow he didn't believe he was +going to be killed at all. + +It wasn't like being a prisoner. The medic brought him plenty of food, +urging him to eat--"You need plenty of protein after radiation +burns"--and if he stayed in the bunk, it was only because he felt too +weak to get up. Actually he was suffering from delayed emotional shock, +as well as from radiation. He was content to let things drift. + +Inevitably, the time came when he had to think about what he had done. +He had betrayed Montano, he had been false to the men who sent him. + +"But they don't know the Lhari," his conscience replied, justifying what +he had done. + +_You sided with the Lhari against your own people. You spoilt our +chances of learning about the Lhari fuel catalyst._ + +"I've done something better than stealing a secret by stealth. I've +proved that humans and Lhari can communicate, that they can trust each +other. It's only their looks that are strange. A kind, generous man is a +kind generous man, whether his name is Raynor Three or Vorongil." + +_But who's going to know it?_ + +"I know it. And truth comes out, sooner or later. Somehow, a better +understanding between man and Lhari will come from this." + +Secure in the knowledge, he turned over and went peacefully to sleep. + +When he woke again, he felt better. The Mentorian girl, Meta, was +sitting quietly between the bunks, watching him. He started to turn +over, flinched at the pain in his arm. + +"Yes," she said, "we're giving you one last transfusion. Plasma, this +time. It's Lhari, but if you know that much, you know it won't hurt +you." She came and inspected the needle in his wrist, and Bart caught +her hand with his free one. "Meta, does anyone else know?" + +She looked down with a troubled smile. "I don't think so. I was off +watch, waiting for cold-sleep--we're just about to make the long +jump--when Vorongil came to my quarters. I was startled almost out of my +wits. He asked if I could keep a secret; then he told me about you. Oh, +Bart!" Her small soft hand closed convulsively on his, "I was so afraid! +I knew they wouldn't kill you, but I was afraid!" + +_Yet they had killed David Briscoe_, Bart thought, and hunted down two +of his friends. It was the only thing he couldn't square with his +perception of the Lhari. It didn't fit. He could understand that they +had shot down the robotcab with Edmund Briscoe in it, in pure +self-defense; and that knowledge had taken off the edge of the horror. +But the death of young Briscoe and everyone he had talked to could not +be explained away. + +"You seem very sure they wouldn't have killed me, Meta," he said, +carefully clasping his hand around hers. + +"They wouldn't," she affirmed. "But they could--make you forget--" + +A small chill went over Bart. He let go of her hand and lay staring +bleakly at the wall. He supposed that was his probable fate: remembering +the tragic tone of Raynor Three when he said _I won't remember you_, he +gritted his teeth, feeling his face twist convulsively. Meta, watching, +misunderstood. + +"Arm hurting? I'll have that needle out of your vein in a few minutes +now." + +When she had freed his arm and put away the apparatus, she came to his +side. "Bart, how did it happen? How did they find you out?" + +Suddenly, the longing for human contact was too much for Bart, and the +knowledge of his secret intolerable. The Lhari could find out what he +knew, if they wanted to know, very simply; he was in their power. It +didn't matter any more. + +The telling of the story took a long time, and when he finished, Meta's +soft small kitten-face was compassionate. + +"I'm glad you--decided what you did," she whispered. "It's what a +Mentorian would have done. I know that other races call us _slaves of +the Lhari_. We aren't. We're working in our own way to show the Lhari +that human beings can be trusted. The other peoples--they hold away from +the Lhari, fighting them with words even though they're afraid to fight +them with weapons, carrying on the war that they're afraid to fight! + +"Did it ever occur to you--all the peoples of all the planets keep +saying, _We're as good as the Lhari_, but only the Mentorians are +willing to prove it? Bart, a Lhari ship can't get along in our galaxy +without Mentorians any more! It may be slower than trying to take the +warp-drive by force, or stealing it by spying, but when we learn to +endure it, I have faith that we'll get it!" + +Bart, although moved by Meta's philosophy, couldn't quite share it. It +still seemed to him that the Mentorians were lacking in +something--independence, maybe, or drive. + +"I wasn't thinking about anything like that," he said honestly. "It was +simply that I couldn't let them die. After all--" he was speaking more +to himself than to the girl--"it's _their_ star-drive. _They_ found it. +And they've given us star-trade, and star-travel, cheaply and with +profit to both sides. I hope we'll get the star-drive someday. But if we +got it by mass murder, it would sow the seeds of a hatred between men +and Lhari that would never end. It wouldn't be worth it, Meta. Nothing +would be worth that. We've got enough hate already." + + * * * * * + +Bart was still in his bunk, but beginning to fret at staying there, when +the familiar trembling of Acceleration Two started to run through the +ship. It was, by now, so familiar to him that he hardly gave it a second +thought, but Meta panicked. + +"What's happening? Bart, what is it? Why are we under acceleration +again?" + +"Shift to warp," he said without thinking, and her face went deathly +white. "So that's it," she whispered. "Vorongil--no wonder he wasn't +worried about what I would find out from you or what you knew." She drew +herself together in her chair, a miserable, shrunken, terrified little +figure, bravely trying to control her terror. + +Then she held out her hands to Bart. "I'm--I'm ashamed," she whispered. +"When you've been so brave, I shouldn't be afraid to die." + +"Meta, what's the matter? What are you afraid of?" It suddenly swept +over Bart what she meant and what she feared. "But don't you understand, +Meta?" he exclaimed, "Humans _can_ live through the warp-drive! No +drugs, no cold-sleep--Meta, I've done it dozens of times!" + +_"But you're a Lhari!"_ It burst from her, uncontrollable. She stopped, +looked at him in consternation. He smiled, bitterly. + +"No, Meta, they didn't do a thing to my internal organs, to my brain, to +the tissues of my body. Just a little plastic surgery on my hands, my +feet and my face. Meta, there's nothing to be afraid of--nothing," he +repeated. + +She twisted her small hands together. "I'm--trying to--to believe that," +she whispered, "but all my life I've known--" + +The screaming whine in the ship gripped them with the strange, clawing +lassitude and discomfort. Bart, gasping under it, heard the girl moan, +saw her slump lax in her chair, half fainting. Her face was so deathly +white that he began seriously to be afraid she would die of her fear. +Fighting his own agonizing weakness, he pulled himself upright. He +reached the girl, dug his claws cruelly into her. + +"Girl, get hold of yourself! Fight it! _Fight_ it! The more scared you +are, the worse it's going to be!" + +She was rigid, trembling, in a trance of terror. + +"You rotten little coward," he yelled at her, "snap out of it! Or are +all you Mentorians so gutless that you believe any half-baked folk tale +the Lhari pass off on you? You and your fine talk about earning the +star-drive! What would you do with it after you got it--if you die of +fear when you try?" + +"Oh! You--!" She flung her head back, her eyes blazing with rage. +"Anything you can do, I can do, too!" He saw life flowing back into her +face, and the trembling now was with fury, not fear; she was fighting +the pain, the crawling itch in her nerve ends, the terrible sense of +draining disorganization. + +Bart felt his hold on himself breaking. He whispered hoarsely, "That's +the girl--don't be scared if I--black out for a minute." He held on to +consciousness with his last courage, afraid if he fainted, the girl +would collapse again. + +She reached for him, and Bart, starved for some human touch, drew her +into his arms. They clung together, and he felt her wet face against his +own, the softness of her trembling hands. She was still crying a little. +Then the blackness closed on him, as if endless, and the gray blur of +warp-drive peak blotted his brain into nothingness. + +He came out of it to feel her cheek soft against his, her head +trustfully on his shoulder. He said huskily, "All right, Meta?" + +"I'm fine," she murmured, shakily. He tightened his hands a little, +realizing that for the first time in months he had physically forgotten +his Lhari disguise, that Meta had given him this priceless reassurance +that he was human. But, as if suddenly aware of it again, she looked up +at him and drew hesitantly away. + +"Don't--Meta, am I so horrible to you then? So--repulsive?" + +"No, it's only--" she bit her lip--"it's just that the Lhari are--I +can't quite explain it." + +"Different," Bart finished for her. "At first I was repelled--physically +repelled by myself, and by them. It was like living among weird animals, +and being one of the animals. And then, one day, Ringg was just another +kid. He had gray skin and long claws and white hair, just the way I once +had pinkish skin and short fingernails and reddish hair, but the +difference wasn't that I was human inside and he wasn't. If you skinned +Ringg, and skinned me, we'd be almost identical. And all of a sudden +then, Ringg and Vorongil and all the rest were men to me. Just people. I +thought you Mentorians, after living with the Lhari all these years, +would feel that." + +She said in slow wonder, "We've lived and worked side by side with them +all these years, yet kept so apart! I've defended the Lhari to you, yet +it took you to explain them to me!" + +His arm was still round her, her head still lying on his shoulder. Bart +was just beginning to wonder if he might kiss her when the infirmary +door opened and Ringg stood in the doorway, staring at them with +surprise, shock and revulsion. Bart realized, suddenly, how it must look +to Ringg--who certainly shared Meta's prejudice--but even as he +comprehended it, Ringg's face altered. Meta slipped from Bart's arms and +rose, but Ringg came slowly a step into the room. + +"I--remembered you had a bad reaction, to warp-drive," he said. "I came +to see if you were all right. I would never have believed--but I'm +beginning to guess. There was always something about you, Bartol." He +shut the door behind him and stood against it. His voice lowered almost +to a whisper, he said, "You're not Lhari, are you?" + +"Vorongil knows," Bart said. + +Ringg nodded. "That day on Lharillis. The crew was talking, but only one +or two of them really _know_ what happened. There are a dozen rumors. I +wanted to see you. They said you were sick with radiation burns--" + +"I was." + +Ringg raised his hand, absently, to the still-puckered mark on his +cheek, saw Bart watching him and smiled. + +"You're not worrying about that fight? Forget it, friend. If anything, I +admire someone who can use his claws--especially if, as I begin to +suspect, they're not his." He leaned over, his hand lightly on Bart's +shoulder. "I don't forget so easily. You saved my life, remember? And +you're a hero on the ship for warning us all. Are you really human? Why +not get rid of the disguise?" + +Bart laughed wryly. "It won't come off," he said, and explained. + +Ringg raised his hands to his own face curiously. "I wonder what sort of +human I'd make?" He looked at Meta's small fingers. "Not that I'd ever +have the nerve. But then, it's no surprise to anyone that you have +courage, Bartol." + +"You seem to accept it--" + +"It's a shock," said Ringg honestly, "it scares me a little. But I'm +remembering the friendship. That was real. As far as I'm concerned, it +still is real." + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + + +Ringg was still bending over Meta's hand when Vorongil came into the +cabin. He started to speak, then noticed Ringg. "I might have known," he +growled, "if there was anything to find out, you'd find it." + +"Shall I go, _rieko mori_?" + +"No, stay. You'll find it out some way or other, you might as well get +it right the first time. But first of all--are you all right, Meta?" + +Her chin went up, defiantly. "Yes. And why have you lied to us all these +years--all of you?" + +Vorongil looked mildly startled. "It wasn't exactly a lie. Nine out of +ten Lhari captains believe it with all their heart--that humans die in +warp-drive. I wasn't sure myself until I heard the debates in Council +City, last year." + +"But why?" + +Vorongil sighed. His eyes rested disconcertingly on Bart. "I presume you +know human history," he said, "better than I do. The Lhari have never +had a war, in all written history. Quite frankly, you terrified us. It +was decided, on the highest summit levels, that we wouldn't give humans +too many chances to find out things we preferred to keep to ourselves. +The first few ships to carry Mentorians had carried them without +cold-sleep, but people forget easily. The truth is buried in the records +of those early voyages. + +"As the Mentorians grew more important to us, we began to regret the +policy, but by that time the Mentorians themselves believed it so firmly +that when we tried the experiment of carrying them through the shift +into warp-drive, they died of fear--pure suggestion. I tried it with +you, Meta, because I knew Bart's presence would reassure you. The others +were given an inert sedative they believed to be the cold-sleep drug. +How are you feeling, Bart?" + +"Fine--but wondering what's going to happen." + +"You won't be hurt," Vorongil said, quickly. Then: "You don't believe +me, do you?" + +"I don't, sir. David Briscoe did what I did, and he's dead. So are three +other men." + +"Men do strange things from fear--men and Lhari. Your people, as I said +before, have a strange history. It scares us. Can you guarantee that +some, at least, of your people wouldn't try to come and take the +star-drive by force? We left a man on Lharillis who thought nothing of +killing twenty-four of us. I suppose the captain of the _Multiphase_, +knowing he had gravely violated Lhari laws, knowing that Briscoe's +report might touch off an intergalactic war between men and Lhari--well, +I suppose he felt that half a dozen deaths were better than half a +million. I'm not defending him. Just explaining, maybe, why he did what +he did." + +Bart lowered his eyes. He had no answer to that. + +"No, you won't be killed. But that's all I can guarantee. My personal +feelings have nothing to do with it. You'll have to go to Council Planet +with us, and you'll have to be psych-checked there. That is Lhari +law--and by treaty with your Federation, it is human law, too. If you +know anything dangerous to us, we have a legal right to eliminate those +memories before you can be released." + +Meta smiled at him, encouragingly, but Bart shivered. That was almost +worse than the thought of death. + +And the fear grew more oppressive as the ship forged onward toward the +home world of the Lhari. And it did not lessen when, after they touched +down, he was taken from the ship under guard. + +He had only a glimpse, through dark glasses, of the terrible brilliance +of the Lhari sun dazzling on crystal towers, before he was hustled into +a closed surface car. It whisked him away to a building he did not see +from the outside; he was taken up by private elevator to a suite of +rooms which might--for all he could tell--have been a suite in a luxury +hotel or a lunatic asylum. The walls were translucent, the furniture +oddly colored, and so carefully padded that even a homicidal or suicidal +person could not have hurt himself or anyone else on it or with it. + +Food reached him often enough so that he never got hungry, but not often +enough to keep him from being bored between meals, or from brooding. Two +enormous Lhari came in to look at him every hour or so, but either they +were deaf and dumb, did not understand his dialect of Lhari, or were +under orders not to speak to him. It was the most frustrating time of +his entire voyage. + +One day it ended. A Lhari and a Mentorian came for him and took him down +elevators and up stairs, and into a quiet, neutral room where four Lhari +were gathered. They sat him in a comfortable chair, and the Mentorian +interpreter said gently, with apology: + +"Bart Steele, I have been asked to say to you that you will not be +physically harmed in any way. This will be much simpler, and will have +much less injurious effect on your mind if you cooperate with us. At the +same time, I have been asked to remind you that resistance is absolutely +useless, and if you attempt it, you will only be treated with force +rather than with courtesy." + +Bart sat facing them, shaking with humiliation. The thought of +resistance flashed through his mind. Maybe he should make them fight for +what they got! At least they'd see that all humans weren't like the +Mentorians, to sit quietly and let themselves be brainwashed without a +word of protest. + +He started to spring up, and the hands of his guards tightened, swift +and strong, even before his muscles had fully tightened. Bart's head +dropped. Cold common sense doused over his brave thoughts. He was +uncountable millions of light-years from his own people. He was +absolutely alone. Bravery would mean nothing; submission would mean +nothing. Would he be more of a man, somehow, if he let his mind be +wrecked? + +"All right," he muttered, "I won't fight." + +"You show your good sense," the Mentorian said quietly. "Give me your +left arm, please--or, if you are left-handed, your right. As you +prefer." + +Deftly, almost painlessly, a needle slid into his arm. _Giving in._ A +dizzying welter of thoughts spun suddenly in his mind. Briscoe. Raynor +One and Raynor Three. The net between the stars. Ringg, Vorongil, Meta, +his father.... + +Consciousness slid away. + +Years later--he never knew whether it was memory or imagination--it +seemed to him that he could reach into that patch of gray and dreamless +time and fish out questions and answers whole, the faces of Lhari +swelling up suddenly in his eyes and shrinking back into interstellar +distance, the sting-smell of drugs, the sound of unexpected voices, odd +reflex pains, cobwebs of patchy memories that fitted nowhere else into +his life so that he supposed they must go here. + +He only knew that there was a time he did not remember and then a time +when he began to think there was such a thing as memory, and then a time +when he floated without a body, and then another time when the path of +every separate nerve in his body seemed to be outlined, a shimmering web +in the gray murk. There was a mirror and a face. There were blotchy +worms of light like the star-trails of peaking warp-drive through the +viewport, colors shifting and receding, a green star, the red eye of +Antares. + +Then the peak-point faded, his mind began to decelerate and angle slowly +down and down into the field of awareness, and he became fuzzily aware +that he was lying full length on a sort of couch. He shook his head +groggily. It hurt. He sat up. That hurt, too. A hand closed gently +around his elbow and he felt the cold edge of a cup against his sore +mouth. + +"Take a sip of this." + +The liquid felt cool on his tongue, evaporating almost before he could +swallow; the fumes seemed to mount inside the root of his nose, +expanding tremendously inside his head and brain. Abruptly his head was +clear, the last traces of gray fuzz gone. + +"When you feel able," the Mentorian said courteously, "the High Council +will see you." + +Bart blinked. As if exploring a sore tooth with his tongue, his mind +sought for memories, but they all seemed clear, marshaled in line. The +details, clear and unblurred, of his voyage here. His humiliation and +resentment against the Lhari. _They could have changed my thinking, my +attitudes. They could have made me admire or be loyal to the Lhari. They +didn't. I'm still me._ + +"I'm ready now." He got up, reeled and had to lean on the Mentorian; his +feet did not seem to touch the ground in quite the right way. After a +minute he could walk steadily, and followed the Mentorian along a +corridor. The Mentorian said into a small grille, "The Vegan Bartol, +alias Bart Steele," and after a moment a doorway opened. + +Inside a room rose, high, domed, vaulted above his head, whitish +opalescent, washed with green. For a moment, while his eyes adjusted to +the light, he wondered how the Lhari saw it. + +Beyond an expanse of black, glassy floor, he saw a low semicircular +table, behind which sat eight Lhari. All wore pale robes with high +collars that rose stiffly behind their domed heads; all were old, their +faces lined with many wrinkles, and seven of the eight were as bald as +the hull of the _Swiftwing_. Under their eyes he hesitated; then, +unexpectedly, pride stiffened his back. + +They should have done a better job of brainwashing, if they expected him +to skulk in like a scared rabbit! He held his head high and moved across +the floor step by steady step, trying not to limp or display that he +felt tired or sore. + +_You're human! Act proud of it!_ + +No one moved until he stood before the semicircle of ancients. Then the +youngest, the only one of the eight with some trace of feathery crest on +his high gray head, said "Captain Vorongil, you identify this person?" + +"I do," Vorongil said, and Bart saw him seated before the high Council. +To Bart, the Lhari captain seemed a familiar, almost a friendly face. + +"Well, Bart Steele, alias Bartol son of Berihun," said one old Lhari, +"what have you to say for yourself?" + +Bart stood silent, not moving. What could he say that would not reveal +how desperately alone, how young and foolish and frightened he felt? All +his brave resolutions seemed to drain away before their old, gnomish +faces. Here he'd been thinking of himself as a brave spy, a gallant +fighter in humanity's cause and what not. Now he saw himself for what he +was; a reckless boy, meddling in affairs too big for him. He lowered his +eyes. + +"We have read the transcript of your knowledge," said the old Lhari. +"There is little in it that we do not know. We are not, of course, +concerned with human conspiracies unless they endanger Lhari lives. The +Antares authorities will deal with the man Montano for an unauthorized +landing on Lharillis, in violation of Federation treaty." + +He smiled, his gnome's face breaking into a million tiny cracks like a +piece of gray-glazed pottery. "Bartol, or whatever you call yourself, +you are a brave young man. I suppose you are afraid we will block your +memories, or your ability to speak of them?" + +Bart nodded, gulping. Did the old Lhari read his mind? + +"A year ago we might have done so. Captain Vorongil, you will be +interested to know that we have discussed this in Council, and your +recommendations have been taken. The secret that humans can endure +star-drive has outlived its usefulness. For good or ill, it is secret no +longer. We cannot possibly eliminate all the old records, or the +enterprising people who hunt them out. + +"The captain who had David Briscoe killed, under the mistaken notion +that this would excuse his own negligence in letting Briscoe stow away +on his ship, is undergoing psychotherapy and may eventually recover. + +"As for the rest--Bart Steele, you know nothing that is a danger to us. +You do not know the coordinates of our world, or even in which galaxy it +is located. You do not know where we secure the catalyst your people +seek. In fact, you know nothing that is not soon to become common +knowledge. In view of that, we have decided not to interfere with your +memories." + +"Talk as much as you like," added another of the ancients, "and may your +memories of this voyage help in understanding between the Lhari and +other human races. Good fortune to you." And he was smiling. + +"There is another side to this," said a third, more sternly and gravely. +"You have broken a treaty between Lhari and man. We have dealt with you +as the laws required; now your own people must do so. You must return +with the _Swiftwing_ to the planet where the violation originated--" he +consulted a memorandum--"Procyon Alpha. There you and the man Raynor +Three will face charges of unlawful conspiracy to board a Lhari ship, in +violation of Intergalactic Trade treaties. Captain Vorongil, will you be +responsible for him?" + +_So I've lost_, Bart thought drearily. _I didn't even learn anything +important enough for them to suppress._ There was a strange wounded +pride in this; after all his trouble, he was being treated like a little +boy who has used a great deal of enterprise and intelligence to rob a +cookie cupboard, and for his pains is sent home with the stolen cookie +in his hand. + +Vorongil touched his arm. "Come, Bartol," he said gently, "I'm taking +you back to the _Swiftwing_. I don't have to treat you like a prisoner, +do I?" + +Numbly, Bart gave what the old Lhari asked, his word of honor not to +attempt escape (_Escape? Where to?_) or to attempt to enter the drive +chamber of the _Swiftwing_ while they were still among the Lhari worlds. + +As they left the council hall, Bart, in a gesture of despair, covered +his face with his hands. As he brought them down, he found himself +staring at them, transfixed. + +The fingers looked longer and thinner than he remembered them, but they +were his own hands again. The nails seemed faintly thick and ridged, and +there was still a faint grayish tinge through the pale flesh color, but +they were human hands. Unmistakably. He felt of his nose and ears, with +fumbling fingers; raised his hand and touched the very short, crisp hair +growing on his newly shaven skull. + +"You fool," said Vorongil to the Mentorian, in disgust, "why didn't you +tell him what the medics had done for him? Easy, Bartol!" The old +Lhari's arm tightened around his shoulder. "I thought they'd told you. +Somebody come here and give the youngster a hand." + +Later, in the small cabin (it had been Rugel's) which was to be his +prison during the return voyage of the _Swiftwing_, he had a chance to +study his familiar-strange face. He had thought that only a short +time--an hour or so--had elapsed between the time he was drugged and the +time they took him before the Council. Later, from what he learned about +the dispatch schedules of the _Swiftwing_, he realized that he had been +kept under sedation for nearly three weeks, while his face and hands +healed. + +As Raynor Three had warned, the change was not altogether reversible. +Studying his face in the mirror, he could still see a hint of something +thin, strange, alien in the set of his features; the nose and chin +somewhat too pointed, elfin, to be human. His hands would always be too +long, too narrow, too supple. For the rest, he looked grim, older. He +could never go back to what he had been before he became a Lhari; it had +left its mark on him forever. + +Before the _Swiftwing_ lifted, outbound, Vorongil came to his cabin. +"You've seen very little of our world," he said diffidently. "I have +permission for you to visit the city before we leave Council Spaceport." + +"You think you can trust me?" Bart asked bitterly. + +Vorongil said gravely, without humor, "The question does not arise. You +do not know the coordinates of this world, and have no way of finding +them. Within those limitations, you are an honored guest here, and if it +would give you any pleasure, you are welcome to see as much of Council +Planet as time permits." + +It seemed, through Vorongil's kindness, that the old Lhari sensed his +bitter defeat. Nothing was to be gained by sulking in his cabin, a +prisoner. He had an opportunity which no human, except the Mentorians, +had ever had; which perhaps no human would ever have again. He might as +well take advantage of it. + +Ringg and Meta both seemed startled at his new appearance, but Meta +instantly held out her hands, clasping his quickly and warmly. "Bart! I +wondered what your real face looked like. But I think I'd have known you +anyhow." + +Ringg surveyed him wonderingly, shaking his head. "Say something," he +implored, "so I'll know you're Bartol." + +Bart held out his arm, less gray by the day as the drug wore out of his +system. The thin line of the scar was still on it. He raised his +forefinger lightly to the fine line on Ringg's cheek. "I couldn't return +that now. So let's not get into any more fights." + +Ringg laughed and gave him a rough, affectionate shove. "You're Bartol, +all right!" + +Even his sense of defeat vanished in wonder as they came out into the +great spaceport. He saw, now, that the Lhari spaceports in human worlds +were built to create, for the spacemen so far from their native worlds, +some feeling of home. But everything here was so vast as to stagger the +imagination. There were miles and miles of the great ships, lying strewn +like pebbles on this monster beachhead into space, bearing the +strangeness of a million far-flung stars. He gaped like a child. + +Above them, the burning brilliance of a star gave strange glow and color +to the crystal pylons. What color was the star? He turned to Meta, +irritated at his inability to be sure. + +"Meta, what color is this sun? I've been all around the spectrum, and +it's not red, blue, green, orange, violet--" He broke off, realizing +what he had said and what he had seen. "An eighth color," he finished, +anticlimatically. + +"You and your talk of colors," Ringg grumbled, "I wish I knew what you +Mentorians see! It's like trying to imagine seeing a smell or hearing +light!" + +Meta laughed. "As far as I know, no one's named it. Sometimes we +Mentorians call it _catalyst color_. I think only Mentorians can see it +as separate color." + +"So what?" Ringg said impatiently, "What are we going to do, chatter +about light waves or see the city?" + +Bart acquiesced, trying to sound eager, but a wild excitement was +gusting up in him. He dutifully pretended fascination with the towers, +the many-leveled roads, the giant dams and pylons, but his thoughts were +racing. + +_The eighth color!_ There can't be too many suns of this color, or +they'd have named it and known it! And telescopes can find it. + +Could success be salvaged, then, at the very edge of failure? Maybe he +need not go empty-handed, empty-eyed, from the Lhari worlds! They had +dismissed him, scornfully, stolen cookie in hand--but maybe it would be +a bigger cookie than they dreamed! + +The exhilaration lasted through the tour of the port, through the heavy +surge of acceleration which brought them up, out and way from Council +Planet. Bart, confined in Rugel's cabin, hardly felt like a prisoner, +his mind busy with schemes. + +_I'll study star-maps, and spectroscope reports...._ + +It lasted almost two days of shiptime, and they were readying for +Acceleration Two, before he came, figuratively, down to earth. To pick +one star out of trillions--and not even in his own galaxy? It would take +a lifetime and he didn't even know which of the four or five spiral +nebulae in the skies of the human worlds was the Lhari Galaxy. A +lifetime? A hundred lifetimes wouldn't do it! + +He might have known. If there had been one chance in the odd billion of +his making any such discovery, the Lhari would never have given Vorongil +permission for the intruder to visit the planet at all. He would have +been returned to the _Swiftwing_ as he had been taken from it, by closed +car, and imprisoned, maybe even drugged, until he was safely back in the +human worlds again. + +He was under parole not to enter the drive chamber (and sure he would be +stopped if he attempted it anyhow), but when Acceleration One was +completed, he went to the viewport in the Recreation Lounge, and nobody +threw him out. He stood long, looking at the unfamiliar galaxy of the +Lhari stars; the unknown, forever unknowable constellations with their +strange shapes. Stars green, gold, topaz, burning blue, sullen red, and +the great strangely colored receding sun of the Lhari people, known to +them by the melodious name of the Ke Lhiro--which meant, simply, _The +Sun_: it was their first home. + +Where had he seen that color? In that stolen glimpse of the Lhari ship +landing, long ago? Of all the colors of space, this one he would never +know. + +He turned away from the unsolvable riddle of the strange constellations; +and went to his cabin, to dream of the green star Meristem where he had +first plotted known coordinates for a previously unknown world, and to +wander in baffling nightmares where he fed jagged, star-colored pieces +of hail into the ship's computer and watched them come out as tiny +paperdoll spaceships with the letterhead of Eight Colors printed neatly +across their sides. + +After the warp-drive shift, Vorongil came to his cabin, this time crisp +and businesslike. + +"We're back in your galaxy," he said, "among the stars you know. We have +no passenger space on the _Swiftwing_; we had to ship out without +replacing Rugel, which means we're short two men. I've no authority to +ask this of you, but--would you like your old job back for the rest of +the voyage?" + +Bart glanced at his human hands. + +Vorongil shrugged. "We've carried Mentorians as full-ranking +Astrogators. There don't happen to be any on the _Swiftwing_. But +there's no law about it." + +Bart looked the old Lhari in the eye. "I won't accept Mentorian terms, +Vorongil." + +"I wouldn't ask it. You worked your way outward on this run, and the +High Council didn't see fit to erase those memories or inhibit them. Why +should I? Do you want it or not?" + +Did he want it? Until this moment Bart had not identified the worst of +his pain and defeat--to travel as a passenger, a supercargo, when he had +once been part of the _Swiftwing_. Literally he ached to be back with it +again. "I do, _rieko mori_." + +"Very well," Vorongil rapped, "see that you turn out next watch!" He +spun round and walked out. His tone was no longer gently indulgent, but +sharp and distant. Bart, at first surprised, suddenly understood. + +Not now a prisoner, a passenger, a guest on the _Swiftwing_. He was part +of the crew again--and Vorongil was his captain. + +The Lhari crew were oddly constrained at first. But Ringg was the same +as always, and before long they were almost on the old terms. With every +watch, it seemed, he was building a bridge between man and Lhari. They +accepted him. + +But for what? Something might come, in the far future, of his +acceptance, but he wouldn't get the benefit of it. This would be his +only voyage; after this he'd be chained again, crawling from planet to +planet of a single sun. And as warp-shift followed warp-shift, the +_Swiftwing_ retracing the path of her outward cruise star by star, Bart +said farewell to them. + +One day, at last, he stood at the viewport, watching Procyon Alpha +nearing. A year ago, frightened, terribly alone, still unsteady on his +new Lhari muscles and terrified by the monsters that were his shipmates, +he had watched these planets spinning away. Poor old Rugel, poor old +Baldy! + +Behind him, Meta came into the lounge. + +"Bart--" + +He turned to face her. "It won't be much longer, Meta. Tomorrow I'll +find out what the Federation is going to do to me. _Conspiracy +unlawfully to board_--and all the rest of it. Even if I don't go to a +prison planet, I'll spend the rest of my life chained down to Vega." + +"It doesn't have to be that way." + +"What other choice is there?" he demanded. + +"You're half Mentorian," she said, raising her eager face. "Oh, Bart, +you love it so, you know you can't bear to give it up. Stay with +us--please stay!" + +Before answering, he looked out the viewport a last time. The clouds of +cosmic dust swirled and foamed around the familiar jewels of his own +sky. Blue, beloved Vega, burning in the heart of the Lyre--_home--when +would he go home? He had no home now._ Yet his father had left him Vega +Interplanet, as well as Eight Colors and a quest to the stars. + +He searched for the topaz of Sol, where he had learned astrogation; +Procyon, where he had become a Lhari; the ruby of Aldebaran (_hail and +farewell, David Briscoe!_); the bloodstone of Antares, where he had +learned fear and the shape of integrity. The colors, the unknowable +colors of space. And others. Nameless stars where he and his Lhari +shipmates had worked and played. And stars he had never seen and would +never see, all the endless worlds beyond worlds and stars beyond +stars.... + +He took a last, longing look at the colors of space, then turned his +back on them, deliberately giving them up. He could not pay the price +the Mentorians paid. + +"No, Meta," he said huskily. "The Mentorian way is one way, but--I've +had a taste of being one of the masters of space. It's more than most +men ever have, maybe it's more than I deserve. But I can't settle for +anything less. Not even if it means losing you." + +He shut his eyes and stood, head bowed. When he looked up again, he was +alone with the stars beyond the viewport, and the lounge was empty. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + + +The low rainbow building of Eight Colors, near the spaceport of Procyon +Alpha, had not changed; and when Bart went in, as he had done a year +ago, it seemed that the same varnished girl was sitting before the same +glass desk, neon-edged and brittle, with the same chrome-tinged hair and +blue fingernails. She looked at Bart in his Lhari clothing, at Meta in +her Mentorian robe and cloak, at Ringg, and her unruffled dignity did +not turn a hair. + +"May I help you?" she inquired, still not caring. + +"I want to see Raynor One." + +"On what business, please?" + +"Tell him," said Bart, with immense satisfaction, "that his boss is +here--Bart Steele--and wants to see him right away." + +It had a sort of disrupting effect. She seemed to go blurred at the +edges. After a minute, blinking carefully, she spoke into the +vision-screen, and reported, numbly, "Go on up, Mr. Steele." + +He wasn't expecting a welcome. He said so as the elevator rose. "After +all, if I'd never come back, he'd doubtless have inherited the whole +Eight Colors line, unencumbered. I don't expect he'll be happy to see +me. But he's the only one I can turn to." + +The elevator stopped, opened. They stepped out, and a man stepped +nervously toward them. For a moment, expecting Raynor One, Bart was +deceived; then as the man's face spread in a smile of welcome, he +stopped in incredulous delight. + +"Raynor Three!" + +In overflowing gladness, Bart hugged him. It was like a meeting with the +dead. He felt as if he had really come home. "But--but you remember me!" +he exclaimed, backing away, in amazement. + +Slowly, the man nodded. His eyes were grave. "Yes. I decided it wasn't +worth it, Bart, to go on losing everything that meant anything to me. +Even if it meant I had to give up the stars, never travel again except +as a passenger, I couldn't go on being afraid to remember, never knowing +the consequences or responsibilities of what I'd done." His sad smile +was strangely beautiful. "The _Multiphase_ sailed without me. I've been +here, hoping against hope that someday I'd know the rest." + +Associations clicked into place in Bart's mind. The _Multiphase_. So +Raynor Three was the Mentorian who had smuggled David Briscoe off the +ship, and whose memories, wrung out by the Lhari captain of that ship, +had touched off so many deaths. But he had paid for that--paid many +times over. And now must he pay for this, too? + +Raynor One strode toward them. "So it's really you. I thought it might +be a trap, but Three wouldn't listen. Word came from Antares that +Montano had been arrested and his ship confiscated for illegal landing +on Lharillis. I thought you were probably dead." + +"We sent a boy to do a man's job," Raynor Three said, "and he came back +a man. But tell me--" He looked curiously at Ringg and Meta. + +Bart introduced them, adding, "I came for help, really. I'm facing +charges, and I'm afraid you are, too." + +Raynor One said harshly, "A trap, after all, Three! He trapped you, and +he's led the Lhari to you!" + +"No," Raynor Three said, "or he wouldn't be walking around free and +unguarded and with all his memories intact. Tell me about it, Bart." And +when Bart had given a quick narration of the Lhari judgment, he nodded, +slowly. + +"That's all we ever wanted. Don't think you failed, Bart. The horrible +part was only the way they were trying to keep it secret." + +Ringg interrupted, "Do not judge the Lhari by them, Raynor Three," and +Raynor Three said in good Lhari, "I don't, feathertop. Raynors have been +working with Lhari since the days of Rhazon of Nedrus. But I wanted an +open, official statement of Lhari policy--not secret murders by +fanatics. I had confidence in the Lhari as a people, but not in +individuals. What good did it do to know that the Lhari council in +another galaxy would have condemned the murders and manhunts, when they +were going on in this one, day after day? + +"Don't you see, Bart?" he continued, "you didn't fail--not if we're +going to have the publicity of a test case, publicly heard. That means +the Lhari are prepared to admit, before our whole galaxy, that humans +_can_ survive warp-drive without cold-sleep. That's all David Briscoe +was trying to prove, or your father either--may they rest in peace. So, +whatever happens, we've won." + +"If you two idealists will give me a minute for cold realities," Raynor +One said, "there's this. Among other things. Bart's not yet of legal +age. You may not know this, Bart, but your father appointed me your +legal guardian. When I turned you over to Three, I'm afraid, I assumed +legal responsibility for all the consequences. I ought to have kept you +under my own supervision." + +Bart smiled at Raynor One's stern face. "I crossed two galaxies, and +faced the Lhari High Council, without you to hold my hand. I can face +the Trade Federation." + +"Naturally I will be responsible for your defense," Raynor One said +stiffly. + +"But I don't need a defense," Bart said, turning to Raynor Three and +meeting his eyes. "I'm going to tell the truth, and let it stand. Don't +worry, I'll make sure they don't hold you responsible for my actions." + +"Another thing. Some lunatic from Capella arrived here and all but +accused me of having you murdered. Do you know a Tommy Kendron?" + +"Do I _know_ him!" Bart interrupted with a joyful yell. "Tommy's _here_? +Quick--where do I get in touch with him?" + +An hour later they were all gathered at Raynor Three's country house. +The talk went on far into the night. Tommy wanted to know everything, +and both Raynors wanted to know every detail of Bart's year among the +Lhari, while Meta and Ringg were both curious about how it had begun. + +Bart tried to forget that the next day might bring trouble, even +imprisonment. The Lhari Council had told him to talk as much as he liked +about his voyage, and this might be his only chance. When he had +finished, Tommy leaned forward and gripped Bart's hand tightly. + +"You make them sound like pretty decent people," he said, looking at +Ringg. "A year ago, if you'd told me I'd be here with a Lhari spaceman +and a bunch of Mentorians, I'd never have believed it." + +"Nor I, that I would be as friend under a human roof," Ringg replied. +"But a friend to Bart is my friend also." He touched the faint +discolored scars on his brow, saying softly, "But for Bart, I would not +be here to greet anyone, man or Lhari, as friend." + +"So," said Tommy triumphantly, "you haven't failed, even if you didn't +discover the secret of the Eighth Color--" + +But a sudden, blinding light burst over Bart as Ringg moved his hand to +the scars. Once again he searched a cave beneath a green star, where +Ringg lay unconscious and bleeding, and played his Lhari light fearfully +over a waterfall of colored minerals. _And there was one whose color he +could not identify--red, blue, violet, green, none of these_--the color +of an unknown star in an unknown galaxy, the shimmer of a landing Lhari +ship, the color of an unknown element in an unknown fuel-- + +"The secret of the Eighth Color," he said, and stood up, his hands +literally shaking in excitement. "I'm an _idiot_! No, don't ask me any +questions! I could still be wrong. But even if I go to a prison planet, +the Eighth Color isn't a secret any more!" + +When the others had gone back to the city, he sat with Raynor Three in +the room where the latter had told him of his father's death, where he +had first seen his terrifying Lhari face. They spoke little, but Raynor +Three finally asked, "Were you serious about not wanting a defense, +Bart?" + +"I was. All I want is a chance to tell my own story in my own way. Where +everyone will hear me." + +Raynor Three looked at him curiously. "There's something you're not +telling, Bart. Want to tell me?" + +Bart hesitated, then held out his hand and clasped his kinsman's. +"Thanks--but no." + +Raynor Three saw his hesitation and chuckled. "All right, son. Forget I +asked. You've grown up." + +It was good to sleep in a soft human-type bed again, to eat breakfast +and shave and dress in ordinary human clothing again. But Bart folded +his Lhari tights and the cloak tenderly, with regret. They were the +memory of an experience no one else would ever have. + +Raynor Three let him take the controls as they flew back to the +spaceport city; and a little before noon they entered the great crystal +pylon that was the headquarters of the Federation Trade Bureau on +Procyon Alpha. Men and Lhari were moving in the lobby; among them Bart +saw Vorongil, Meta at his side. He smiled at her, received a wan smile +in return. + +Would Vorongil feel that Bart had deceived him, betrayed him, when he +heard Bart today? + +In the hearing room, four white-crested Lhari sat across from four +dignified, well-dressed men, representatives of the Federation of +Intergalactic Trade. The space beyond was wholly filled with people, +crowded together, and carrying stereo cameras, intercom equipment, the +creepie-peepie of the on-the-spot space commentator. + +"Mr. Steele, we had hoped to make this a quiet hearing, without undue +publicity. But we cannot deny the news media the privilege of covering +it, unless you wish to claim the right to privacy." + +"No, indeed," Bart said clearly. "I want them all to hear what I'm going +to say." + +Raynor One came up to the bench. "Bart, as your guardian, I advise +against it. Some people will call this a publicity stunt. It won't do +Eight Colors any good to admit that men have been spying on the Lhari--" + +"I want press coverage," Bart repeated stubbornly, "and as many +star-systems on the relay as possible." + +"All right. But I wash my hands of it," Raynor One said angrily. + +Bart told his story simply: his meeting with the elder Briscoe, his +meeting with Raynor One--carefully not implicating Raynor One in the +plot--Raynor Three's work in altering his appearance to that of a Lhari, +and the major events of his cruise on the _Swiftwing_. When he came to +the account of the shift into warp-drive, he saw the faces of the press +reporters, and realized that for them this was the story of the year--or +century: _humans can endure star-drive!_ But he went on, not +soft-pedaling Montano's attempted murder, his own choice, the trip to +the Lhari world-- + +One of the board representatives interrupted testily, "What is the point +of this lengthy narrative? You can give the story to the newsmen without +our official sanction, if you want to make it a heroic epic, young +Steele. We have heard sufficient to prove your guilt, and that of +Raynor, in the violation of treaty--" + +"Nevertheless, I want this official," Bart said. "I don't want to be +mobbed when they hear that I have the secret of the star-drive." + +The effect was electric. The four Lhari sat up; their white crests +twitched. Vorongil stared, his gray eyes darkening with fear. One of the +Lhari leaned forward, shooting the question at him harshly. + +"You did _not_ discover the coordinates of the Council Planet of Ke +Lhiro! You did not discover--" + +"I did not," Bart said quietly. "I don't know them and I have no +intention of trying to find them. We don't need to go to the Lhari +Galaxy to find the mineral that generates the warp-frequencies, that +they call 'Catalyst A' and that the Mentorians call the 'Eighth Color.' +There is a green star called Meristem, and a spectroscopic analysis of +that star, I'm sure, will reveal what unknown elements it contains, and +perhaps locate other stars with that element. There must be others in +our galaxy, but the coordinates of the star Meristem are known to me." + +Vorongil was staring at him, his mouth open. He leaped up and cried out, +shaking, "But they assured us that among your memories--there was +nothing of danger to us--" + +Compassionately, gently, Bart said, "There wasn't--not that they knew +about, Vorongil. I didn't realize it myself. I might never have +remembered seeing a mineral that was of a color not found in the +spectrum. Certainly, a memory like that meant nothing to the Lhari +medics who emptied out my mind and turned over all my thoughts. You +Lhari can't see color at all. + +"So no one but I saw the color of the mineral in the cave; you Lhari +yourselves don't _know_ that your fuel looks unlike anything else in the +universe. You never cared to find out how your world looked to your +Mentorians. So your medics never questioned my memories of an eighth +color. To you, it's just another shade of gray, but under a light strong +enough to blind any but Mentorian eyes, it takes on a special color--" + +The conference broke up in disorder, the four Lhari clustering together +in a furious babble, then hastily leaving the room. Bart stood waiting, +feeling empty and cold. Vorongil's stare baffled him with unreadable +emotion. + +"You fool, you unspeakable young idiot!" Raynor One groaned. "Why did +you blurt it out like that before every news media in the galaxy? Why, +we could have had a monopoly on the star-drive--Eight Colors and Vega +Interplanet!" As he saw the men of the press approaching with their +microphones, lights, cameras and TV equipment, he gripped Bart urgently +by the arm. + +"We can still salvage something! Don't talk any more! Refer them to +me--say I'm your guardian and your business manager--you can still make +something of this--" + +"That's just what I don't want to do," Bart replied, and broke away from +him to approach the newsmen. + +"Yes, certainly, I'll answer all your questions, gentlemen." + +Raynor One flung up his hands in despair, but over their shoulder he saw +the glowing face of Meta, and smiled. She, at least, would understand. +So would Raynor Three. + +A page boy touched Bart on the arm. "Mr. Steele," he said, "you are to +appear immediately before the World Council!" + +He was to be asked one question again and again in the days that +followed, but his real answer was to Meta and Raynor Three, looking +quietly past Raynor One and speaking to the news cameras that would +carry his words all over the galaxy to men and Lhari: + +"Why didn't I keep it for myself? Because there are always men like +Montano, who in their mistaken pride will murder and steal for such +things. I want this knowledge to be open to all men, to be used for +their benefit. There has been too much secrecy already. I want all men +to have the stars." + +He had to tell his story again and again to the hastily summoned +representatives of the Galactic Federation. At one point the delegate +from his home star of Vega actually rose and shouted to him, "This is +treason! You betrayed your home world--and the whole human race! Don't +you know the Lhari may fight a war over this?" + +Bart remembered Vorongil's silent, sad confession of the Lhari fears. + +"No," he said gently. "No. There won't be any war unless we start one. +The Lhari won't start any war. Believe me." + +But inwardly, he sweated. What _would_ the Lhari do? + +They had to wait for representatives of the Lhari Council to make the +journey from their home galaxy; meanwhile they kept Bart in protective +custody. There was, of course, no question of sending him to a "prison +planet"; public opinion would have crucified any government that +suggested punishment for the man who had discovered a human world with +deposits of Catalyst A. Bart could claim an "explorer's share," and +Raynor One had lost no time in filing that claim on his behalf. + +But he was lonely and anxious. They had confined him to a set of rooms +high in the building overlooking the spaceport; from the balcony he +could see the ships landing and departing. Life went on, ships came and +went, and out there in the vast night of space, the suns and colors +flamed and rolled, heedless of the little atoms that traveled and +intrigued between them. + +A night came when the buzzer sounded and he opened the door to Raynor +One and Raynor Three. + +"Better turn on your vision-screen, Bart. The Elder of the Lhari Council +has arrived with their official decision, and he's going to announce +it." + +Bart waited, anxiously, pacing the room, while on the TV screen various +dignitaries presented the Elder. + +"We are the first race to travel the stars." A bald head, an ancient +Lhari face seamed like glazed pottery, looked at Bart from the screen, +and Bart remembered when he had stood before that face, sick with +defeat. But now he need not pretend to hold his head erect. + +"We have had a long and triumphant time as masters of the stars," the +Lhari said. "But triumph and power will sicken and stagnate the race +which holds them too long unchallenged. We reached this point once +before. Then a Lhari captain, Rhazon of Nedrun, abandoned the safe ways +of caution, and out of his blind leap in the blind dark came many good +things. Trade with the human race. Our Mentorian allies. A system of +mathematics to take the hazards from our star-travel. + +"Yet once again the Lhari had grown cautious and fearful. And a young +man named Bartol took a blind leap into unknown darkness, all alone--" + +"Not alone," Bart said as if to himself, "it took two men called +Briscoe. And my father. And a couple of Raynors. And even a man called +Montano, because without that, I'd never have decided--" + +"Like Rhazon of Nedrun, like all pioneers, this young man has been +cursed by his own people, the very ones who will one day benefit from +his daring. He has found his people a firm footing among the stars. It +is too late for the Lhari to regret that we did not sooner extend you +the hand of welcome there. You have climbed, unaided, to join us. For +good or ill, we must make room for you. + +"But there is room for all. Competition is the lifeblood of trade, and +we face the future without fear, knowing that life still holds many +surprises for the living. I say to you: welcome to the stars." + +Even while Bart stood speechless with the knowledge of success, the door +opened again, and Bart, turning, cried out in amazement. + +"Tommy! Ringg! Meta!" + +"Sure," Tommy exclaimed, "we've got to celebrate," but Bart stopped, +looking past them. + +"Captain Vorongil!" he said, and went to greet the old Lhari. "I thought +you'd hate me, _rieko mori_." The term of respect fell naturally from +his lips. + +"I did, for a time," Vorongil said quietly. "But I remembered the day we +stood on Lharillis, by the monument. And that you risked--perhaps your +life, certainly your eyesight--to save us from death. So when the Elder +asked for my estimate of your people, I gave it." + +"I thought it sounded like you." Bart felt that his happiness was +complete. + +"And now," Ringg cried, "let's celebrate! Meta, you haven't even told +him that he's free!" + +But while the party got rolling, Bart wondered--free for what? And +after a little while he went out on the balcony and stood looking +down at the spaceport, where the _Swiftwing_ lay in shadow, huge, +beloved--renounced. + +"What now, Bartol?" Vorongil's quiet voice asked from his elbow. "You're +famous--notorious. You're going to be rich, and a celebrity." + +"I was wishing I could get away until the excitement dies down." + +"Well," said Vorongil, "why don't you? The _Swiftwing_ ships out +tonight, Bartol--for Antares and beyond. It will be a couple of years +before your Eight Colors can be made over into an Interstellar line--and +as Raynor One has said to me several times, he'll have to handle all +those details, for you're not of age yet. + +"I've been thinking. Now that we Lhari must share space with your +people, you'll need experienced men for your ships. Unless we all want +the disasters born of trial and error, we Lhari had better help you +train your men quickly and well. I want you to go back on the +_Swiftwing_ with me. Not an apprentice, but representative of Eight +Colors, to act as liaison between men and Lhari--at least until your own +affairs claim your attention." + +Behind them on the balcony, Tommy appeared, making signals to Bart: "Say +yes! Say yes, Bart! _I_ did!" + +Bart's eyes suddenly filled. Out of defeat he had won success beyond his +greatest hopes. But he did not feel all glad; he felt only a heavy +responsibility. Whether good or bad came of the gift he had snatched +from the stars, would rest in large measure on his own shoulders. He was +going back to space--to learn the responsibility that went with it. + +"I accept," he said gravely. + +"Oh, boy!" Tommy dragged Ringg into a sort of war dance of exuberant +celebration, pointing at the flaring glow of the spaceport gates. "Here, +by grace of the Lhari, stands the doorway to all the stars," he quoted. +"Well, maybe you were here first. But look out--we're coming!" + +A doorway to the stars. Bart had crossed that doorway once, frightened +and alone. _Dad, if you could only know!_ The first interstellar ship of +Eight Colors was to bear the name _Rupert Steele_, but that was years in +the future. + +Now, looking at the _Swiftwing_, at Ringg and Tommy, at Raynor Three and +Vorongil, who would all be his shipmates in the new world they were +building, he felt suddenly very lonely again. + +"Come in, Bart. It's your party," Meta said softly, and he felt her hand +lying in his. He looked down at the pretty Mentorian girl. She would be +with him, too. And suddenly he knew he would never be lonely again. + +His arm around Meta, his friends--man and Lhari--at his shoulder, he +went back to the celebration, to plan for the first intergalactic voyage +to the stars. + + +The End + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +AUTHOR'S PROFILE + +Marion Zimmer Bradley was born in Albany, New York and before she +started her writing career she was a file clerk, music teacher and a +carnival performer. Her hobbies are reading science fiction novels, +going to the opera and listening to folk music. + +In addition to having written a number of other books, she has written +more than 30 magazine stories and articles and has been writing +professionally for the past ten years. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +_A Terrifying Tale Of Horror In The Skies_ + + +THE FLYING EYES + +By J. Hunter Holly + +Author of ENCOUNTER and THE GREEN PLANET + + +Linc Hosler was sitting in a packed football stadium when the Flying +Eyes appeared and cast their hypnotic power over half the crowd. +Thousands of people suddenly began marching zombie-like into the woods +where they vanished into a black pit. + +Linc used every resource of the Space Research Lab and the National +Guard to destroy the Eyes. But nothing could stop them, for they proved +immune to bullets and bombs. + +In desperation, Linc captured an Eye and found a way to communicate with +it through his mind. He learned that radiation was fuel for the +creatures' lives. And then they issued their terrible ultimatum: Explode +a series of atom bombs to supply them with radiation or they would turn +the world's population into mindless robots. + +It gave the world two harrowing choices--self-destruction via fallout +from the bombs or annihilation via the sinister Flying Eyes.... + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +_The Dramatic Life Story Of The Second Most Powerful Man In Washington_ + + +ROBERT F. KENNEDY +Assistant President + +By Gary Gordon + +Author of THE RISE AND FALL OF THE JAPANESE EMPIRE + + +Whatever accomplishments can be attributed to John F. Kennedy, some of +the credit must go to his brother Bobby, for, as campaign manager in the +last election, the younger Kennedy had a great deal to do with getting +his brother nominated and then elected. + +Coming into prominence via his work as Chief Counsel to the McClellan +Committee, he has proven to be a tough fighter and the possessor of an +overwhelming will to win. Now, in his dual role as Attorney General and +adviser to the President, he is a power to be reckoned with. + +Here is the life story of Robert F. Kennedy, the President's "chief +trouble-shooter, crisis smoother and selfless rooter" (_Look_); the man +who is "second only to the President in power and influence" (_U.S. News +and World Report_): the man who may be eyeing the White House for his +own future occupancy. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +_Dramatic True Tales Of Courageous Marines, Army, Air Force And Navy Men +Whose Exploits Won Them The Congressional Medal Of Honor_ + + +America's War Heroes + +By Jay Scott + + +No specific class, rank or service has a monopoly on bravery. Every +milieu, every nationality seems to spawn, on occasion, a man capable of +action above and beyond the call of duty. + + +THE HONOR ROLL + + Lt. Col. James Doolittle U.S. Air Corps + T/Sgt. Charles (Commando) Kelly U.S. Army + Chaplain Joseph O'Callahan U.S. Navy + Major Gregory (Pappy) Boyington U.S. Marines + 1st Lt. Audie Murphy U.S. Army + Capt. Joseph Foss U.S. Marines + Commander Samuel Dealey U.S. Navy + Sergeant John Basilone U.S. Marines + Private Rodger Young U.S. Army + +Here are their stories, told with a wealth of dramatic and unforgettable +detail, showing the caliber of the men who served our country in time of +national peril. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +_Compelling Stories Of The Exploits Of Marine Winners Of The +Congressional Medal Of Honor_ + + +MARINE WAR HEROES + +By Jay Scott + +Author of AMERICA'S WAR HEROES + + +No group of fighting men has shown more bravery and resourcefulness than +the U.S. Marines. Rushed to the hot spots of the world in time of war, +they hare consistently shown a disdain for personal safety, always +playing a vital role in our country's victories. + +Standing even taller, were the men among them who somehow managed to be +heroes among heroes, men whose exploits were extraordinary--the +Congressional Medal of Honor winners. + +A total of 234 Marines have been awarded The Congressional Medal of +Honor. Here in this dramatic book are exciting, personalized accounts of +some of the most courageous exploits of the heroes of the greatest +fighting force the world has ever known. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +OTHER SIGNIFICANT MONARCH BOOKS + + +MS18 WHAT'S WRONG WITH U.S. FOREIGN POLICY? by Frank L. Kluckholm + +MS17 SKIN AND SCUBA DIVING by Richard Hardwick + +MS16 THE CRISIS IN CUBA by Thomas Freeman + +MS15 THERMONUCLEAR WARFARE by Poul Anderson + +MS14 THE REAL STORY ON CUBA by James Bayard + +MS13 HOW TO STAY YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL by Jan Michael + +MS11 THE RED CARPET by Ezra Taft Benson A grim warning against +socialism--the royal road to communism. + +MS10 THE HISTORY OF SURGERY by L. T. Woodward, M.D. + +MS9 A GALLERY OF THE SAINTS by Randall Garrett + +MS8 THE COLD WAR by Deane and David Heller + +MS7 FORGET ABOUT CALORIES by Leland H. O'Brian + +MS6 THE NAKED RISE OF COMMUNISM by Frank L. Kluckholm + +MS5 PLANNED PARENTHOOD by Henry De Forrest, M.D. + +MS4 THE RISE AND FALL OF THE JAPANESE EMPIRE by Gary Gordon + +MS3B AMERICA: LISTEN! by Frank Kluckholm (Second new enlarged edition. +Completely updated.) An honest report to the nation on the current chaos +in Washington. + +MS2 THE BERLIN CRISIS by Deane and David Heller + +K69 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF THE WORLD'S GREAT EVENTS: 1936 by D. S. Halacy, Jr. + +K68 THE FABULOUS ROCKEFELLERS by Robert Silverberg + +K65 S O S: THE WORLD'S GREAT SEA DISASTERS by Keith Jameson + +K59 POPE JOHN XXIII: PASTORAL PRINCE by Randall Garrett + +K56 SIR WINSTON CHURCHILL by Edgar Black + +MA350 U. S. NAVY IN ACTION by John Clagett + +MA329 MARINE WAR HEROES by Jay Scott + +MA321 TARAWA by Tom Bailey 50¢ + +MA319 U.S. MARINES IN ACTION by T. R. Fehrenbach + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Colors of Space, by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COLORS OF SPACE *** + +***** This file should be named 20796-8.txt or 20796-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/7/9/20796/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Colors of Space + +Author: Marion Zimmer Bradley + +Release Date: March 11, 2007 [EBook #20796] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COLORS OF SPACE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + + + + +<h3><i>A Juvenile Science Fiction Novel</i></h3> + +<h1>THE COLORS OF SPACE</h1> + +<h2>Marion Zimmer Bradley</h2> + + + + +<h4>MONARCH BOOKS, INC.<br /> +Derby, Connecticut</h4> + +<h4>Published in August, 1963<br /> +Copyright 1963 by Marion Zimmer Bradley</h4> + +<h4>[Transcriber's note: This is a rule 6 clearance. PG has not been able to find a copyright renewal.]</h4> + +<h4><i>Cover Painting by Ralph Brillhart</i></h4> + +<h4>Monarch Books are published by MONARCH BOOKS, INC., Capital Building, +Derby, Connecticut, and represent the works of outstanding novelists and +writers of non-fiction especially chosen for their literary merit and +reading entertainment.</h4> + +<h4>Printed in the United States of America<br /> +All Rights Reserved</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h4>To<br /> +DAVID STEPHEN</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>SUDDEN PANIC</h2> + + +<p>It was a week before the Lhari ship went into warp-drive, and all that +time young Bart Steele had stayed in his cabin. He was so bored with his +own company that the Mentorian medic was a welcome sight when he came to +prepare him for <i>cold-sleep</i>.</p> + +<p>The Mentorian paused, needle in hand. "Do you wish to be wakened for the +time we shall spend in each of the three star systems, sir? You can, of +course, be given enough drug to keep you in cold-sleep until we reach +your destination."</p> + +<p>Bart felt tempted—he wanted very much to see the other star systems. +But he couldn't risk meeting other passengers.</p> + +<p>The needle went into his arm. In sudden panic, he realized he was +helpless. The ship would touch down on three worlds, and on any of them +the Lhari might have his description, or his alias! He could be taken +off, unconscious, and might never wake up! He tried to move, to protest, +but he couldn't. There was a freezing moment of intense cold and then +nothing....</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_ONE">CHAPTER ONE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWO">CHAPTER TWO</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_THREE">CHAPTER THREE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_FOUR">CHAPTER FOUR</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_FIVE">CHAPTER FIVE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_SIX">CHAPTER SIX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_SEVEN">CHAPTER SEVEN</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHT">CHAPTER EIGHT</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_NINE">CHAPTER NINE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TEN">CHAPTER TEN</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_ELEVEN">CHAPTER ELEVEN</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWELVE">CHAPTER TWELVE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTEEN">CHAPTER THIRTEEN</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_FOURTEEN">CHAPTER FOURTEEN</a><br /><br /> + +<a href="#AUTHORS_PROFILE">AUTHOR'S PROFILE</a><br /> +<a href="#OTHER_SIGNIFICANT_MONARCH_BOOKS">OTHER SIGNIFICANT MONARCH BOOKS</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ONE" id="CHAPTER_ONE"></a>CHAPTER ONE</h2> + + +<p>The Lhari spaceport didn't belong on Earth.</p> + +<p>Bart Steele had thought that, a long time ago, when he first saw it. He +had been just a kid then; twelve years old, and all excited about seeing +Earth for the first time—Earth, the legendary home of mankind before +the Age of Space, the planet of Bart's far-back ancestors. And the first +thing he'd seen on Earth, when he got off the starship, was the Lhari +spaceport.</p> + +<p>And he'd thought, right then, <i>It doesn't belong on Earth.</i></p> + +<p>He'd said so to his father, and his father's face had gone strange, +bitter and remote.</p> + +<p>"A lot of people would agree with you, Son," Captain Rupert Steele had +said softly. "The trouble is, if the Lhari spaceport wasn't on Earth, we +wouldn't be on Earth either. Remember that."</p> + +<p>Bart remembered it, five years later, as he got off the strip of moving +sidewalk. He turned to wait for Tommy Kendron, who was getting his +baggage off the center strip of the moving roadway. Bart Steele and +Tommy Kendron had graduated together, the day before, from the Space +Academy of Earth. Now Tommy, who had been born on the ninth planet of +the star Capella, was taking the Lhari starship to his faraway home, and +Bart's father was coming back to Earth, on the same starship, to meet +his son.</p> + +<p><i>Five years,</i> Bart thought. <i>That's a long time. I wonder if Dad will +know me?</i></p> + +<p>"Let me give you a hand with that stuff, Tommy."</p> + +<p>"I can manage," Tommy chuckled, hefting the plastic cases. "They don't +allow you much baggage weight on the Lhari ships. Certainly not more +than I can handle."</p> + +<p>The two lads stood in front of the spaceport gate for a minute. Over the +gate, which was high and pointed and made of some clear colorless +material like glass, was a jagged symbol resembling a flash of +lightning; the sign, in Lhari language, for the home world of the Lhari.</p> + +<p>They walked through the pointed glass gate, and stood for a moment, by +mutual consent, looking down over the vast expanse of the Lhari +spaceport.</p> + +<p>This had once been a great desert. Now it was all floored in with some +strange substance that was neither glass, metal nor concrete; it looked +like gleaming crystal—though it felt soft underfoot—and in the glare +of the noonday sun, it gave back the glare in a million rainbow flashes. +Tommy put his hands up to his eyes to shield them. "The Lhari must have +funny eyes, if they can stand all this glare!"</p> + +<p>Inside the glass gate, a man in a guard's uniform gave them each a pair +of dark glasses. "Put them on now, boys. And don't look directly at the +ship when it lands."</p> + +<p>Tommy hooked the earpieces of the dark glasses over his ears, and sighed +with relief. Bart frowned, but finally put them on. Bart's mother had +been a Mentorian—from the planet Mentor, of the star Deneb, a hundred +times brighter than the sun. Bart had her eyes. But Mentorians weren't +popular on Earth, and Bart had learned to be quiet about his mother.</p> + +<p>Through the dark lenses, the glare was only a pale gleam. Far out in the +very center of the spaceport, a high, clear-glass skyscraper rose, +catching the sunlight in a million colors. Around the building, small +copters and robotcabs veered, discharging passengers; and the moving +sidewalks were crowded with people coming and going. Here and there in +the crowd, standing out because of their height and the silvery metallic +cloaks they wore, were the strange tall figures of the Lhari.</p> + +<p>"Well, how about going down?" Tommy glanced impatiently at his +timepiece. "Less than half an hour before the starship touches down."</p> + +<p>"All right. We can get a sidewalk over here." Reluctantly, Bart tore his +eyes from the fascinating spectacle, and followed Tommy, stepping onto +one of the sidewalks. It bore them down a long, sloping ramp toward the +floor of the spaceport, then sped toward the glass skyscraper; came to +rest at the wide pointed doors, depositing them in the midst of the +crowd. The jagged lightning flash was there over the doors of the +building, and the words:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">here, by grace of the Lhari, is the doorway to all the stars.</span></p></div> + +<p>Bart remembered, as if it were yesterday, how he and his father had +first passed through this doorway. And his father, looking up, had said +under his breath "Not for always, Son. Someday men will have a doorway +to the stars, and the Lhari won't be standing in the door."</p> + +<p>Inside the building, it was searingly bright. The high open rotunda was +filled with immense mirrors, and glass ramps running up and down, moving +staircases, confusing signs and flashing lights on tall oddly shaped +pillars. The place was crowded with men from all over the planet, but +the dark glasses they all wore gave them a strange sort of family +resemblance.</p> + +<p>Tommy said, "I'd better check my reservations."</p> + +<p>Bart nodded. "Meet you on the upper level later," he said, and got on a +moving staircase that soared slowly upward, past level after level, +toward the information desk located on the topmost mezzanine.</p> + +<p>The staircase moved slowly, and Bart had plenty of time to see +everything. On the step immediately in front of him, two Lhari were +standing; with their backs turned, they might almost have been men. +Unusually tall, unusually thin, but men. Then Bart amended that +mentally. The Lhari had two arms, two legs and a head apiece—they were +that much like men. Their faces had two eyes, two ears, and a nose and +mouth, all in the right places. But the similarity ended there.</p> + +<p>They had skin of a curious pale silvery gray, and pale, pure-white hair +rising in what looked like a feathery crest. The eyes were long and +slanting, the forehead high and narrow, the nose delicately thin and +chiseled with long vertically slit nostrils, the ears long, pointed and +lobeless. The mouth looked almost human, though the chin was abnormally +pointed. The hands would almost have passed inspection as human +hands—except for the long, triangular nails curved over the fingertips +like the claws of a cat. They wore skin-tight clothes of some metallic +silky stuff, and long flowing gleaming silvery capes. They looked +unearthly, elfin and strange, and in their own way they were beautiful.</p> + +<p>The two Lhari in front of Bart had been talking softly, in their fast +twittering speech; but as the hum of the crowds on the upper levels grew +louder, they raised their voices, and Bart could hear what they were +saying. He was a little surprised to find that he could still understand +the Lhari language. He hadn't heard a word of it in years—not since his +Mentorian mother died. The Lhari would never guess that he could +understand their speech. Not one human in a million could speak or +understand a dozen words of Lhari, except the Mentorians.</p> + +<p>"Do you really think that <i>human</i>—" the first Lhari spoke the word as +if it were a filthy insult—"will have the temerity to come in by this +ship?"</p> + +<p>"No reasonable being can tell what <i>humans</i> will do," said the second +Lhari. "But then, no reasonable being can tell what our own Port +Authorities will do either! If the message had only reached us sooner, +it would have been easier. Now I suppose it will have to clear through a +dozen officials and a dozen different kinds of formalities."</p> + +<p>The younger Lhari sounded angry. "And we have only a description—no +name, nothing! How do they expect us to do anything under those +conditions? What I can't understand is how it ever happened, or how the +man managed to get away. What worries me is the possibility that he may +have communicated with others we don't know about. Those bungling fools +who let the first man get away can't even be sure—"</p> + +<p>"Do not speak of it here," said the old Lhari sharply. "There are +Mentorians in the crowd who might understand us." He turned and looked +straight at Bart, and Bart felt as if the slanted strange eyes were +looking right through to his bones. The Lhari said, in Universal, "Who +are you, boy? What iss your businesssses here?"</p> + +<p>Bart replied in the same language, politely, "My father's coming in on +this ship. I'm looking for the information desk."</p> + +<p>"Up there," said the old Lhari, pointing with a clawed hand, and lost +interest in Bart. He said to his companion, in their own language, +"Always, I regret these episodes. I have no malice against humans. I +suppose even this Vegan that we are seeking has young, and a mate, who +will regret his loss."</p> + +<p>"Then he should not have pried into Lhari matters," said the younger +Lhari fiercely. "If they'd killed him right away—"</p> + +<p>The soaring staircase swooped up to the top level; the two Lhari stepped +off and mingled swiftly with the crowd, being lost to sight. Bart +whistled in dismay as he got off and turned toward the information desk. +A Vegan! Some poor guy from his own planet was in trouble with the +Lhari. He felt a cold, crawling chill down his insides. The Lhari had +spoken regretfully, but the way they'd speak of a fly they couldn't +manage to swat fast enough. Sooner or later you had to get down to it, +they just weren't human!</p> + +<p>Here on Earth, nothing much could happen, of course. They wouldn't let +the Lhari hurt anyone—then Bart remembered his course in Universal Law. +The Lhari spaceport in every system, by treaty, was Lhari territory. +Once you walked beneath the lightning-flash sign, the authority of the +planet ceased to function; you might as well be on that unbelievably +remote world in another galaxy that was the Lhari home planet—that +world no human had ever seen. On a Lhari spaceport, or on a Lhari ship, +you were under the jurisdiction of Lhari law.</p> + +<p>Tommy stepped off a moving stair and joined him. "The ship's on time—it +reported past Luna City a few minutes ago. I'm thirsty—how about a +drink?"</p> + +<p>There was a refreshment stand on this level; they debated briefly +between orange juice and a drink with a Lhari name that meant simply +<i>cold sweet</i>, and finally decided to try it. The name proved +descriptive; it was very cold, very sweet and indescribably delicious.</p> + +<p>"Does this come from the Lhari world, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"I imagine it's synthetic," Bart said.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it won't <i>hurt</i> us?"</p> + +<p>Bart laughed. "They wouldn't serve it to us if it would. No, men and +Lhari are alike in a lot of ways. They breathe the same air. Eat about +the same food." Their bodies were adjusted to about the same gravity. +They had the same body chemistry—in fact, you couldn't tell Lhari blood +from human, even under a microscope. And in the terrible Orion Spaceport +wreck sixty years ago, doctors had found that blood plasma from humans +could be used for wounded Lhari, and vice versa, though it wasn't safe +to transfuse whole blood. But then, even among humans there were five +blood types.</p> + +<p>And yet, for all their likeness, they were <i>different</i>.</p> + +<p>Bart sipped the cold Lhari drink, seeing himself in the mirror behind +the refreshment stand; a tall teen-ager, looking older than his +seventeen years. He was lithe and well muscled from five years of sports +and acrobatics at the Space Academy, he had curling red hair and gray +eyes, and he was almost as tall as a Lhari.</p> + +<p><i>Will Dad know me? I was just a little kid when he left me here, and now +I'm grown-up.</i></p> + +<p>Tommy grinned at him in the mirror. "What are you going to do, now we've +finished our so-called education?"</p> + +<p>"What do you think? Go back to Vega with Dad, by Lhari ship, and help +him run Vega Interplanet. Why else would I bother with all that +astrogation and math?"</p> + +<p>"You're the lucky one, with your father owning a dozen ships! He must be +almost as rich as the Lhari."</p> + +<p>Bart shook his head. "It's not that easy. Space travel inside a system +these days is small stuff; all the real travel and shipping goes to the +Lhari ships."</p> + +<p>It was a sore point with everyone. Thousands of years ago, men had +spread out from Earth—first to the planets, then to the nearer stars, +crawling in ships that could travel no faster than the speed of light. +They had even believed that was an absolute limit—that nothing in the +universe could exceed the speed of light. It took years to go from Earth +to the nearest star.</p> + +<p>But they'd done it. From the nearer stars, they had sent out colonizing +ships all through the galaxy. Some vanished and were never heard from +again, but some made it, and in a few centuries man had spread all over +hundreds of star-systems.</p> + +<p>And then man met the people of the Lhari.</p> + +<p>It was a big universe, with measureless millions of stars, and plenty of +room for more than two intelligent civilizations. It wasn't surprising +that the Lhari, who had only been traveling space for a couple of +thousand years themselves, had never come across humans before. But they +had been delighted to meet another intelligent race—and it was +extremely profitable.</p> + +<p>Because men were still held, mostly, to the planets of their own +star-systems. Ships traveling between the stars by light-drive were rare +and ruinously expensive. But the Lhari had the warp-drive, and almost +overnight the whole picture changed. By warp-drive, hundreds of times +faster than light at peak, the years-long trip between Vega and Earth, +for instance, was reduced to about three months, at a price anyone could +pay. Mankind could trade and travel all over their galaxy, but they did +it on Lhari ships. The Lhari had an absolute, unbreakable monopoly on +star travel.</p> + +<p>"That's what hurts," Tommy said. "It wouldn't do us any good to have the +star-drive. Humans can't stand faster-than-light travel, except in +cold-sleep."</p> + +<p>Bart nodded. The Lhari ships traveled at normal speeds, like the regular +planetary ships, inside each star-system. Then, at the borders of the +vast gulf of emptiness between stars, they went into warp-drive; but +first, every human on board was given the cold-sleep treatment that +placed them in suspended animation, allowing their bodies to endure the +warp-drive.</p> + +<p>He finished his drink. The increasing bustle in the crowds below them +told him that time must be getting short. A tall, impressive-looking +Lhari strode through the crowd, followed at a respectful distance by two +Mentorians, tall, redheaded humans wearing metallic cloaks like those of +the Lhari. Tommy nudged Bart, his face bitter.</p> + +<p>"Look at those lousy Mentorians! How can they do it? Fawning upon the +Lhari that way, yet they're as human as we are! <i>Slaves</i> of the Lhari!"</p> + +<p>Bart felt the involuntary surge of anger, instantly controlled. "It's +not that way at all. My mother was a Mentorian, remember. She made five +cruises on a Lhari ship before she married my father."</p> + +<p>Tommy sighed. "I guess I'm just jealous—to think the Mentorians can +sign on the Lhari ship as crew, while you and I will never pilot a ship +between the stars. What did she do?"</p> + +<p>"She was a mathematician. Before the Lhari met up with men, they used a +system of mathematics as clumsy as the old Roman numerals. You have to +admire them, when you realize that they learned stellar navigation with +their old system, though most ships use human math now. And of course, +you know their eyes aren't like ours. Among other things, they're +color-blind. They see everything in shades of black or white or gray.</p> + +<p>"So they found out that humans aboard their ships were useful. You +remember how humans, in the early days in space, used certain birds, who +were more sensitive to impure air than they were. When the birds keeled +over, they could tell it was time for humans to start looking over the +air systems! The Lhari use Mentorians to identify colors for them. And, +since Mentor was the first planet of humans that the Lhari had contact +with, they've always been closer to them."</p> + +<p>Tommy looked after the two Mentorians enviously. "The fact is, I'd ship +out with the Lhari myself if I could. Wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>Bart's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "No," he said. "I could—I'm half +Mentorian, I can even speak Lhari."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you? I would."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you wouldn't," Bart said softly. "Not even very many Mentorians +will. You see, the Lhari don't trust humans too much. In the early days, +men were always planting spies on Lhari ships, to try and steal the +secret of warp-drive. They never managed it, but nowadays the Lhari give +all the Mentorians what amounts to a brainwashing—deep hypnosis, before +and after every voyage, so that they can neither look for anything that +might threaten the Lhari monopoly of space, nor reveal it—even under a +truth drug—if they find it out.</p> + +<p>"You have to be pretty fanatical about space travel to go through that. +Oh, my mother could tell us a lot of things about her cruises with the +Lhari. The Lhari can't tell a diamond from a ruby, except by +spectrographic analysis, for instance. And she—"</p> + +<p>A high gong note sounded somewhere, touching off an explosion of warning +bells and buzzers all over the enormous building. Bart looked up.</p> + +<p>"The ship must be coming in to land."</p> + +<p>"I'd better check into the passenger side," Tommy said. He stuck out his +hand. "Well, Bart, I guess this is where we say good-bye."</p> + +<p>They shook hands, their eyes meeting for a moment in honest grief. In +some indefinable way, this parting marked the end of their boyhood.</p> + +<p>"Good luck, Tom. I'm going to miss you."</p> + +<p>They wrung each other's hands again, hard. Then Tommy picked up his +luggage and started down a sloping ramp toward an enclosure marked <span class="smcap">TO +PASSENGER ENTRANCE.</span></p> + +<p>Warning bells rang again. The glare intensified until the glow in the +sky was unendurable, but Bart looked anyhow, making out the strange +shape of the Lhari ship from the stars.</p> + +<p>It was huge and strange, glowing with colors Bart had never seen before. +It settled down slowly, softly: enormous, silent, vibrating, glowing; +then swiftly faded to white-hot, gleaming blue, dulling down through the +visible spectrum to red. At last it was just gleaming glassy Lhari-metal +color again. High up in the ship's side a yawning gap slid open, +extruding stairsteps, and men and Lhari began to descend.</p> + +<p>Bart ran down a ramp and surged out on the field with the crowd. His +eyes, alert for his father's tall figure, noted with surprise that the +ship's stairs were guarded by four cloaked Lhari, each with a Mentorian +interpreter. They were stopping each person who got off the starship, +asking for identity papers. Bart realized he was seeing another segment +of the same drama he had overheard discussed, and wished he knew what it +was all about.</p> + +<p>The crowd was thinning now. Robotcabs were swerving in, hovering above +the ground to pick up passengers, then veering away. The gap in the +starship's side was closing, and still Bart had not seen the tall, slim, +flame-haired figure of his father. The port on the other side of the +ship, he knew, was for loading passengers. Bart moved carefully through +the thinning crowd, almost to the foot of the stairs. One of the Lhari +checking papers stopped and fixed him with an inscrutable gray stare, +but finally turned away again.</p> + +<p>Bart began really to worry. Captain Steele would never miss his ship! +But he saw only one disembarking passenger who had not yet been +surrounded by a group of welcoming relatives, or summoned a robotcab and +gone. The man was wearing Vegan clothes, but he wasn't Bart's father. He +was a fat little man, with ruddy cheeks and a fringe of curling gray +hair all around his bald dome. <i>Maybe he'd know if there was another +Vegan on the ship.</i></p> + +<p>Then Bart realized that the little fat man was staring straight at him. +He returned the man's smile, rather hesitantly; then blinked, for the +fat man was coming straight toward him.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Son," the fat man said loudly. Then, as two of the Lhari started +toward him, the strange man did an incredible thing. He reached out his +two hands and grabbed Bart.</p> + +<p>"Well, boy, you've sure grown," he said, in a loud, cheerful voice, "but +you're not too grown-up to give your old Dad a good hug, are you?" He +pulled Bart roughly into his arms. Bart started to pull away and stammer +that the fat man had made a mistake, but the pudgy hand gripped his +wrist with unexpected strength.</p> + +<p>"Bart, listen to me," the stranger whispered, in a harsh fast voice. "Go +along with this or we're both dead. See those two Lhari watching us? +Call me Dad, good and loud, if you want to live. Because, believe me, +your life's in danger—right now!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWO</h2> + + +<p>For a moment, pulled off balance in the fat stranger's hug, Bart +remained perfectly still, while the man repeated in that loud, jovial +voice, "How you've grown!" He let him go, stepping away a pace or two, +and whispered urgently, "Say something. And take that stupid look off +your face."</p> + +<p>As he stepped back, Bart saw his eyes. In the chubby, good-natured red +face, the stranger's eyes were half-mad with fear.</p> + +<p>In a split second, Bart remembered the two Lhari and their talk of a +fugitive. In that moment, Bart Steele grew up.</p> + +<p>He stepped toward the man and took him quickly by the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Dad, you sure surprised me," he said, trying to keep his voice from +shaking. "Been such a long time, I'd—half forgotten what you looked +like. Have a good trip?"</p> + +<p>"About like always." The fat man was breathing hard, but his voice +sounded firm and cheerful. "Can't compare with a trip on the old +<i>Asterion</i> though." The <i>Asterion</i> was the flagship of Vega Interplanet, +Rupert Steele's own ship. "How's everything?"</p> + +<p>Beads of sweat were standing out on the man's ruddy forehead, and his +grip on Bart's wrist was so hard it hurt. Bart, grasping at random for +something to say, gabbled, "Too bad you couldn't get to my graduation. I +made th-third in a class of four hundred—"</p> + +<p>The Lhari had surrounded them and were closing in.</p> + +<p>The fat man took a deep breath or two, said, "Just a minute, Son," and +turned around. "You want something?"</p> + +<p>The tallest of the Lhari—the old one, whom Bart had seen on the +escalator—looked long and hard at him. When they spoke Universal, their +voices were sibilant, but not nearly so inhuman.</p> + +<p>"Could we trrrouble you to sssshow us your paperrrssss?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly." Nonchalantly, the fat man dug them out and handed them +over. Bart saw his father's name printed across the top.</p> + +<p>The Lhari gestured to a Mentorian interpreter: "What colorrr isss thisss +man's hairrr?"</p> + +<p>The Mentorian said in the Lhari language, "His hair is <i>gray</i>." He used +the Universal word; there were, of course, no words for colors in the +Lhari speech.</p> + +<p>"The man we sssseek has hair of <i>red</i>," said the Lhari. "And he isss +tall, not fat."</p> + +<p>"The boy is tall and with <i>red</i> hair," the Mentorian volunteered, and +the old Lhari made a gesture of disdain.</p> + +<p>"This boy is twenty years younger than the man whose description came to +us. Why did they not give us a picture or at least a name?" He turned to +the other Lhari and said in their own shrill speech, "I suspected this +man because he was alone. And I had seen this boy on the upper mezzanine +and spoken with him. We watched him, knowing sooner or later the father +would seek him. Ask him." He gestured and the Mentorian said, "Who is +this man, you?"</p> + +<p>Bart gulped. For the first time he noted the energon-ray shockers at the +belts of the four Lhari. He'd heard about those. They could stun—or +they could kill, and quite horribly. He said, "This is my father. You +want my cards, too?" He hauled out his identity papers. "My name's Bart +Steele."</p> + +<p>The Lhari, with a gesture of disgust, handed them back. "Go, then, +father and son," he said, not unkindly.</p> + +<p>"Let's get going, Son," said the little bald man. His hand shook on +Bart's, and Bart thought, <i>If we're lucky, we can get out of the port +before he faints dead away.</i> He said "I'll get a copter," and then, +feeling sorry for the stranger, gave him his arm to lean on. He didn't +know whether he was worried or scared. <i>Where was his father?</i> Why did +this man have his dad's papers? Was his father hiding inside the Lhari +ship? He wanted to run, to burst away from the imposter, but the guy was +shaking so hard Bart couldn't just leave him standing there. If the +Lhari got him, he was a dead duck.</p> + +<p>A copter swooped down, the pilot signaling. The little man said +hoarsely, "No. Robotcab."</p> + +<p>Bart waved the copter away, getting a dirty look from the pilot, and +punched a button at the stand for one of the unmanned robotcabs. It +swung down, hovered motionless. Bart boosted the fat man in. Inside, the +man collapsed on the seat, leaning back, puffing, his hand pressed hard +to his chest.</p> + +<p>"Punch a combo for Denver," he said hoarsely.</p> + +<p>Bart obeyed, automatically. Then he turned on the man.</p> + +<p>"It's your game, mister! Now tell me what's going on? <i>Where's my +father?</i>"</p> + +<p>The man's eyes were half-shut. He said, gasping, "Don't ask me any +questions for a minute." He thumbed a tablet into his mouth, and +presently his breathing quieted.</p> + +<p>"We're safe—for the minute. Those Lhari would have cut us down."</p> + +<p>"You, maybe. I haven't done anything. Look, you," Bart said in sudden +rage, "you owe me some explanations. For all I know, you're a criminal +and the Lhari have every right to chase you! Why have you got my +father's papers? Did you steal them to get away from the Lhari? <i>Where's +my father?</i>"</p> + +<p>"It's your father they were looking for, you young fool," said the man, +gasping hard. "Lucky they had only a description and not a name—but +they've probably got that by now, uncoded. We've only confused them for +a little while. But if you hadn't played along, they'd have had you +watched, and when they get hold of the name Steele—they will, sooner or +later, the people in the Procyon system—"</p> + +<p><i>"Where is my father?"</i></p> + +<p>"I hope I don't know," the fat man said. "If he's still where I left +him, he's dead. My name is Briscoe. Edmund Briscoe. Your father saved my +life years ago, never mind how. The less you know, the safer you'll be +for a while. His major worry just now is about you. He was afraid, if he +didn't turn up here, you'd take the first ship back to Vega. So he gave +me his papers and sent me to warn you—"</p> + +<p>Bart shook his head. "It all sounds phony as can be. How do I know +whether to believe you or not?" His hand hovered over the robotcab +controls. "We're going straight to the police. If you're okay, they +won't turn you over to the Lhari. If you're not—"</p> + +<p>"You young fool," said the fat man, with feeble violence, "there's no +<i>time</i> for all that! Ask me questions—I can prove I know your father!"</p> + +<p>"What was my mother's name?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, God," Briscoe said, "I never saw her. I knew your father long +before you were born. Until he told me, I never knew he'd married or +had a son. I'd never have known you, except that you're the living +image—" He shook his head helplessly, and his breathing sounded hoarse.</p> + +<p>"Bart, I'm a sick man, I'm going to die. I want to do what I came here +to do, because your father saved my life once when I was young and +healthy, and gave me twenty good years before I got old and fat and +sick. Win or lose, I won't live to see you hunted down like a dog, like +my own son—"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk like that," Bart said, a creepy feeling coming over him. "If +you're sick, let me take you to a doctor."</p> + +<p>Briscoe did not even hear. "Wait, there is something else. Your father +said, 'Tell Bart I've gone looking for the Eighth Color. Bart will know +what I mean.'"</p> + +<p>"That's crazy. I don't know—"</p> + +<p>He broke off, for the memory had come, full-blown:</p> + +<p><i>He was very young: five, six, seven. His mother, tall and slender and +very fair, was bending over a blueprint, pointing with a delicate finger +at something, straightening, saying in her light musical voice:</i></p> + +<p><i>"The fuel catalyst—it's a strange color, a color you never saw +anywhere. Can you</i> think <i>of a color that isn't red, orange, yellow, +green, blue, violet, indigo or some combination of them? It isn't any of +the colors of the spectrum at all. The fuel is a real eighth color."</i></p> + +<p><i>And his father had used the phrase, almost adopted it. "When we know +what the eighth color is, we'll have the secret of the star-drive, +too!"</i></p> + +<p>Briscoe saw his face change, nodded weakly. "I see it means something to +you. Now will you do as I tell you? Within a couple of hours, they'll be +combing the planet for you, but by that time the ship I came in on will +have taken off again. They only stop a short time here, for mail, +passengers—no cargo. They may get under way again before all messages +are cleared and decoded." He stopped and breathed hard. "The Earth +authorities might protect you, but you would never be able to board a +Lhari ship again—and that would mean staying on Earth for the rest of +your life. You've got to get away before they start comparing notes. +Here." His hand went into his pockets. "For your hair. It's a dye—a +spray."</p> + +<p>He pressed a button on the bulb in his hand; Bart gasped, feeling cold +wetness on his head. His own hand came away stained black.</p> + +<p>"Keep still." Briscoe said irritably. "You'll need it at the Procyon end +of the run. Here." He stuck some papers into Bart's hand, then punched +some buttons on the robotcab's control. It wheeled and swerved so +rapidly that Bart fell against the fat man's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Are you crazy? What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>Briscoe looked straight into Bart's eyes. In his hoarse, sick voice, he +said, "Bart, don't worry about me. It's all over for me, whatever +happens. Just remember this. What your father is doing is <i>worth</i> doing, +and if you start stalling, arguing, demanding explanations, you can foul +up a hundred people—and kill about half of them."</p> + +<p>He closed Bart's fingers roughly over the papers. The robotcab hovered +over the spaceport. "Now listen to me, very carefully. When I stop the +cab, down below, jump out. Don't stop to say good-bye, or ask questions, +or anything else. Just get out, walk straight through the passenger door +and straight up the ramp of the ship. Show them that ticket, and get on. +Whatever happens, don't let anything stop you. Bart!" Briscoe shook his +shoulder. "Promise! Whatever happens, you'll <i>get on that ship</i>!"</p> + +<p>Bart swallowed, feeling as if he'd been shoved into a silly +cops-and-robbers game. But Briscoe's urgency had convinced him. "Where +am I going?"</p> + +<p>"All I have is a name—Raynor Three," Briscoe said, "and the message +about the Eighth Color. That's all I know." His mouth twisted again in +that painful gasp.</p> + +<p>The cab swooped down. Bart found his voice. "But what then? Is Dad +there? Will I know—"</p> + +<p>"I don't know any more than I've told you," Briscoe said. Abruptly the +robotcab came to a halt, swaying a little. Briscoe jerked the door open, +gave Bart a push, and Bart found himself stumbling out on the ramp +beside the spaceport building. He caught his balance, looked around, and +realized that the robotcab was already climbing the sky again.</p> + +<p>Immediately before him, neon letters spelled <span class="smcap">TO PASSENGER ENTRANCE +ONLY</span>. Bart stumbled forward. The Lhari by the gate thrust out a +disinterested claw. Bart held up what Briscoe had shoved into his hand, +only now seeing that it was a thin wallet, a set of identity papers and a +strip of pink tickets.</p> + +<p>"Procyon Alpha. Corridor B, straight through." The Lhari gestured, and +Bart went through the narrow passageway, came out at the other end, and +found himself at the very base of a curving stair that led up and up +toward a door in the side of the huge Lhari ship. Bart hesitated. In +another minute he'd be on his way to a strange sun and a strange world, +on what might well be the wild-goose chase of all time.</p> + +<p>Passengers were crowding the steps behind him. Someone shouted suddenly, +"Look at that!" and someone else yelled, "Is that guy crazy?"</p> + +<p>Bart looked up. A robotcab was swooping over the spaceport in wild, +crazy circles, dipping down, suddenly making a dart like an enraged wasp +at a little nest of Lhari. They ducked and scattered; the robotcab +swerved away, hovered, swooped back. This time it struck one of the +Lhari grazingly with landing gear and knocked him sprawling. Bart stood +with his mouth open, as if paralyzed.</p> + +<p><i>Briscoe! What was he doing?</i></p> + +<p>The fallen Lhari lay without moving. The robotcab moved in again, as if +for the kill, buzzing viciously overhead.</p> + +<p>Then a beam of light arced from one of the drawn energon-ray tubes. The +robotcab glowed briefly red, then seemed to sag, sink together; then +puddled, a slag heap of molten metal, on the glassy floor of the port. A +little moan of horror came from the crowd, and Bart felt a sudden, +wrenching sickness. It had been like a game, a silly game of cops and +robbers, and suddenly it was as serious as melted death lying there on +the spaceport. <i>Briscoe!</i></p> + +<p>Someone shoved him and said, "Come on, quit gawking, kid. They won't +hold the ship all day just because some nut finds a new way to commit +suicide."</p> + +<p>Bart, his legs numb, walked up the ramp. Briscoe had died to give him +this chance. Now it was up to him to make it worth having.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THREE" id="CHAPTER_THREE"></a>CHAPTER THREE</h2> + + +<p>At the top of the ramp, a Lhari glanced briefly at his papers, motioned +him through. Bart passed through the airlock, and into a brightly lit +corridor half full of passengers. The line was moving slowly, and for +the first time Bart had a chance to think.</p> + +<p>He had never seen violent death before. In this civilized world, you +didn't. He knew if he thought about Briscoe, he'd start bawling like a +baby, so he swallowed hard a couple of times, set his chin, and +concentrated on the trip to Procyon Alpha. That meant this ship was +outbound on the Aldebaran run—Proxima Centauri, Sirius, Pollux, +Procyon, Capella and Aldebaran.</p> + +<p>The line of passengers was disappearing through a doorway. A woman ahead +of Bart turned and said nervously, "We won't be put into cold-sleep +right away, will we?"</p> + +<p>He reassured her, remembering his inbound trip five years ago. "No, no. +The ship won't go into warp-drive until we're well past Pluto. It will +be several days, at least."</p> + +<p>Beyond the doorway the lights dwindled, and a Mentorian interpreter took +his dark glasses, saying, "Kindly remove your belt, shoes and other +accessories of leather or metal before stepping into the decontamination +chamber. They will be separately decontaminated and returned to you. +Papers, please."</p> + +<p>With a small twinge of fright, Bart surrendered them. Would the +Mentorian ask why he was carrying two wallets? Inside the other one, he +still had his Academy ID card which identified him as Bart Steele, and +if the Mentorian looked through them to check, and found out he was +carrying two sets of identity papers....</p> + +<p>But the Mentorian merely dumped all his pocket paraphernalia, without +looking at it, into a sack. "Just step through here."</p> + +<p>Holding up his trousers with both hands, Bart stepped inside the +indicated cubicle. It was filled with faint bluish light. Bart felt a +strong tingling and a faint electrical smell, and along his forearms +there was a slight prickling where the small hairs were all standing on +end. He knew that the invisible R-rays were killing all the +microorganisms in his body, so that no disease germ or stray fungus +would be carried from planet to planet.</p> + +<p>The bluish light died. Outside, the Mentorian gave him back his shoes +and belt, handed him the paper sack of his belongings, and a paper cup +full of greenish fluid.</p> + +<p>"Drink this."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>The medic said patiently, "Remember, the R-rays killed <i>all</i> the +microorganisms in your body, including the good ones—the antibodies +that protect you against disease, and the small yeasts and bacteria that +live in your intestines and help in the digestion of your food. So we +have to replace those you need to stay healthy. See?"</p> + +<p>The green stuff tasted a little brackish, but Bart got it down all +right. He didn't much like the idea of drinking a solution of "germs," +but he knew that was silly. There was a big difference between disease +germs and helpful bacteria.</p> + +<p>Another Mentorian official, this one a young woman, gave him a key with +a numbered tag, and a small booklet with <span class="smcap">WELCOME ABOARD</span> printed +on the cover.</p> + +<p>The tag was numbered 246-B, which made Bart raise his eyebrows. B class +was normally too expensive for Bart's father's modest purse. It wasn't +quite the luxury class A, reserved for planetary governors and +ambassadors, but it was plenty luxurious. Briscoe had certainly sent him +traveling in style!</p> + +<p>B Deck was a long corridor with oval doors; Bart found one numbered 246, +and, not surprisingly, the key opened it. It was a pleasant little +cabin, measuring at least six feet by eight, and he would evidently have +it to himself. There was a comfortably big bunk, a light that could be +turned on and off instead of the permanent glow-walls of the cheaper +class, a private shower and toilet, and a placard on the walls informing +him that passengers in B class had the freedom of the Observation Dome +and the Recreation Lounge. There was even a row of buttons dispensing +synthetic foods, in case a passenger preferred privacy or didn't want to +wait for meals in the dining hall.</p> + +<p>A buzzer sounded and a Mentorian voice announced, "Five minutes to Room +Check. Passengers will please remove all metal in their clothing, and +deposit in the lead drawers. Passengers will please recline in their +bunks and fasten the retaining straps before the steward arrives. +Repeat, passengers will please...."</p> + +<p>Bart took off his belt, stuck it and his cuff links in the drawer and +lay down. Then, in a sudden panic, he got up again. His papers as Bart +Steele were still in the sack. He got them out, and with a feeling as if +he were crossing a bridge and burning it after him, tore up every scrap +of paper that identified him as Bart Steele of Vega Four, graduate of +the Space Academy of Earth. Now, for better or worse, he was—who <i>was</i> +he? He hadn't even looked at the new papers Briscoe had given him!</p> + +<p>He glanced through them quickly. They were made out to David Warren +Briscoe, of Aldebaran Four. According to them, David Briscoe was twenty +years old, hair black, eyes hazel, height six foot one inch. Bart +wondered, painfully, if Briscoe had a son and if David Briscoe knew +where his father was. There was also a license, validated with four runs +on the Aldebaran Intrasatellite Cargo Company—planetary ships—with the +rank of Apprentice Astrogator; and a considerable sum of money.</p> + +<p>Bart put the papers in his pants pocket and the torn-up scraps of his +old ones into the trashbin before he realized that they looked exactly +like what they were—torn-up legal identity papers and a broken plastic +card. <i>Nobody</i> destroyed identity papers for any good reason. What could +he do?</p> + +<p>Then he remembered something from the Academy. Starships were +closed-system cycles, no waste was discarded, but everything was +collected in big chemical tanks, broken down to separate elements, +purified and built up again into new materials. He threw the paper into +the toilet, worked the plastic card back and forth, back and forth until +he had wrenched it into inch-wide bits, and threw it after them.</p> + +<p>The cabin door opened and a Mentorian said irritably, "Please lie down +and fasten your straps. I haven't all day."</p> + +<p>Hastily Bart flushed the toilet and went to the bunk. Now everything +that could identify him as Bart Steele was on its way to the breakdown +tanks. Before long, the complex hydrocarbons and cellulose would all be +innocent little molecules of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen; they might turn +up in new combinations as sugar on the table!</p> + +<p>The Mentorian grumbled, "You young people think the rules mean everybody +but you," and strapped him far too tightly into the bunk. Bart felt +resentful; just because Mentorians could work on Lhari ships, did they +have to act as if they owned everybody?</p> + +<p>When the man had gone, Bart drew a deep breath. Was he really doing the +right thing?</p> + +<p>If he'd refused to get out of the robotcab—</p> + +<p>If he'd driven Briscoe straight to the police—</p> + +<p>Then maybe Briscoe would still be alive. And now it was too late.</p> + +<p>A warning siren went off in the ship, rising to hysterical intensity. +Bart thought, incredulously, <i>this is really happening</i>. It felt like a +nightmare. His father a fugitive from the Lhari. Briscoe dead. He +himself traveling, with forged papers, to a star he'd never seen.</p> + +<p>He braced himself, knowing the siren was the last warning before +takeoff. First there would be the hum of great turbines deep in the +ship, then the crushing surge of acceleration. He had made a dozen trips +inside the solar system, but no matter how often he did it, there was +the strange excitement, the little pinpoint of fear, like an exotic +taste, that was almost pleasant.</p> + +<p>The door opened and Bart grabbed a fistful of bed-ticking as two Lhari +came into the room.</p> + +<p>One of them said, in their strange shrill speech, "This boy is the right +age."</p> + +<p>Bart froze.</p> + +<p>"You're seeing spies in every corner, Ransell," said the other, then in +Universal, "Could we trrouble you for your paperesses, sirr?"</p> + +<p>Bart, strapped down and helpless, moved his head toward the drawer, +hoping his face did not betray his fear. He watched the two Lhari riffle +through his papers with their odd pointed claws.</p> + +<p>"What isss your planet?"</p> + +<p>Bart bit his lip, hard—he had almost said, "Vega Four."</p> + +<p>"Aldebaran Four."</p> + +<p>The Lhari said in his own language, "We should have Margil in here. He +actually saw them."</p> + +<p>The other replied, "But I saw the machine that disintegrated. I still +say there was enough protoplasm residue for two bodies."</p> + +<p>Bart fought to keep his face perfectly straight.</p> + +<p>"Did anyone come into your cabin?" The Lhari asked in Universal.</p> + +<p>"Only the steward. Why? Is something wrong?"</p> + +<p>"There iss some thought that a stowaway might be on boarrd. Of courrrse +we could not allow that, anyone not prrroperly prrotected would die in +the first shift into warp-drive."</p> + +<p>"Just the steward," Bart said again. "A Mentorian."</p> + +<p>The Lhari said, eying him keenly, "You are ill? Or discommoded?"</p> + +<p>Bart grasped at random for an excuse. "That—that stuff the medic made +me drink made me feel—sort of sick."</p> + +<p>"You may send for a medical officer after acceleration," said the Lhari +expressionlessly. "The summoning bell is at your left."</p> + +<p>They turned and went out and Bart gulped. Lhari, in person, checking the +passenger decks! Normally you never saw one on board; just Mentorians. +The Lhari treated humans as if they were too dumb to bother about. Well, +at least for once someone was acting as if humans were worthy +antagonists. <i>We'll show them—someday!</i></p> + +<p>But he felt very alone, and scared....</p> + +<p>A low hum rose, somewhere in the ship, and Bart grabbed ticking as he +felt the slow surge. Then a violent sense of pressure popped his ear +drums, weight crowded down on him like an elephant sitting on his chest, +and there was a horrible squashed sensation dragging his limbs out of +shape. It grew and grew. Bart lay still and sweated, trying to ease his +uncomfortable position, unable to move so much as a finger. The Lhari +ships hit 12 gravities in the first surge of acceleration. Bart felt as +if he were spreading out, under the weight, into a puddle of +flesh—<i>melted flesh like Briscoe's</i>—</p> + +<p>Bart writhed and bit his lip till he could taste blood, wishing he were +young enough to bawl out loud.</p> + +<p>Abruptly, it eased, and the blood started to flow again in his numbed +limbs. Bart loosened his straps, took a few deep breaths, wiped his +face—wringing wet, whether with sweat or tears he wasn't sure—and sat +up in his bunk. The loudspeaker announced, "Acceleration One is +completed. Passengers on A and B Decks are invited to witness the +passing of the Satellites from the Observation Lounge in half an hour."</p> + +<p>Bart got up and washed his face, remembering that he had no luggage with +him, not so much as a toothbrush.</p> + +<p>At the back of his mind, packed up in a corner, was the continuing worry +about his father, the horror at Briscoe's ghastly death, the fear of the +Lhari; but he slammed the lid firmly on them all. For the moment he was +safe. They might be looking for Bart Steele by now, but they weren't +looking for David Briscoe of Aldebaran. He might just as well relax and +enjoy the trip. He went down to the Observation Lounge.</p> + +<p>It had been darkened, and one whole wall of the room was made of clear +quartzite. Bart drew a deep breath as the vast panorama of space opened +out before him.</p> + +<p>They were receding from the sun at some thousands of miles a minute. +Swirling past the ship, gleaming in the reflected sunlight like iron +filings moving to the motion of a magnet, were the waves upon waves of +cosmic dust—tiny free electrons, ions, particles of gas; free of the +heavier atmosphere, themselves invisible, they formed in their billions +into bright clouds around the ship; pale, swirling veils of mist. And +through their dim shine, the brilliant flares of the fixed stars burned +clear and steady, so far away that even the hurling motion of the ship +could not change their positions.</p> + +<p>One by one he picked out the constellations. Aldebaran swung on the +pendant chain of Taurus like a giant ruby. Orion strode across the sky, +a swirling nebula at his belt. Vega burned, cobalt blue, in the heart of +the Lyre.</p> + +<p>Colors, colors! Inside the atmosphere of Earth's night, the stars had +been pale white sparks against black. Here, against the misty-pale +swirls of cosmic dust, they burned with color heaped on color; the +bloody burning crimson of Antares, the metallic gold of Capella, the +sullen pulsing of Betelgeuse. They burned, each with its own inward +flame and light, like handfuls of burning jewels flung by some giant +hand upon the swirling darkness. It was a sight Bart felt he could watch +forever and still be hungry to see; the never-changing, ever-changing +colors of space.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Behind him in the darkness, after a long time, someone said softly, +"Imagine being a Lhari and not being able to see anything out there but +bright or brighter light."</p> + +<p>A bell rang melodiously in the ship and the passengers in the lounge +began to stir and move toward the door, to stretch limbs cramped like +Bart's by tranced watching, to talk quickly of ordinary things.</p> + +<p>"I suppose that bell means dinner," said a vaguely familiar voice at +Bart's elbow. "Synthetics, I suppose, but at least we can all get +acquainted."</p> + +<p>The light from the undarkened hall fell on their faces as they moved +toward the door. "Bart! Why, it can't be!"</p> + +<p>In utter dismay, Bart looked down into the face of Tommy Kendron.</p> + +<p>In the rush of danger, he had absolutely forgotten that Tommy Kendron +was on this ship—to make his alias useless; Tommy was looking at him in +surprise and delight.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me, or did you and your father decide at the last +minute? Hey, it's great that we can go part way together, at least!"</p> + +<p>Bart knew he must cut this short very quickly. He stepped out into the +full corridor light so that Tommy could see his black hair.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, you're confusing me with someone else."</p> + +<p>"Bart, come off it—" Tommy's voice died out. "Sorry, I'd have sworn you +were a friend of mine."</p> + +<p>Bart wondered suddenly, had he done the wrong thing? He had a feeling he +might need a friend. Badly.</p> + +<p>Well, it was too late now. He stared Tommy in the eye and said, "I've +never seen you before in my life."</p> + +<p>Tommy looked deflated. He stepped back slightly, shaking his head. +"Never saw such a resemblance. Are you a Vegan?"</p> + +<p>"No," Bart lied flatly. "Aldebaran. David Briscoe."</p> + +<p>"Glad to know you, Dave." With undiscourageable friendliness, Tommy +stuck out a hand. "Say, that bell means dinner, why don't we go down +together? I don't know a soul on the ship, and it looks like +luck—running into a fellow who could be my best friend's twin brother."</p> + +<p>Bart felt warmed and drawn, but sensibly he knew he could not keep up +the pretense. Sooner or later, he'd give himself away, use some habitual +phrase or gesture Tommy would recognize.</p> + +<p>Should he take a chance—reveal himself to Tommy and ask him to keep +quiet? No. This wasn't a game. One man was already dead. He didn't want +Tommy to be next.</p> + +<p>There was only one way out. He said coldly, "thank you, but I have other +things to attend to. I intend to be very busy all through the voyage." +He spun on his heel and walked away before he could see Tommy's eager, +friendly smile turn hurt and defensive.</p> + +<p>Back in his cabin, he gloomily dialed some synthetic jellies, thinking +with annoyance of the anticipated good food of the dining room. He knew +he couldn't risk meeting Tommy again, and drearily resigned himself to +staying in his cabin. It looked like an awfully boring trip ahead.</p> + +<p>It was. It was a week before the Lhari ship went into warp-drive, and +all that time Bart stayed in his cabin, not daring to go to the +observation Lounge or dining hall. He got tired of eating synthetics +(oh, they were nourishing enough, but they were altogether +uninteresting) and tired of listening to the tapes the room steward got +him from the ship's library. By the time they had been in space a week, +he was so bored with his own company that even the Mentorian medic was a +welcome sight when he came in to prepare him for cold-sleep.</p> + +<p>Bart had had the best education on Earth, but he didn't know precisely +how the Lhari warp-drive worked. He'd been told that only a few of the +Lhari understood it, just as the man who flew a copter didn't need to +understand Newton's Three Laws of Motion in order to get himself back +and forth to work.</p> + +<p>But he knew this much; when the ship generated the frequencies which +accelerated it beyond the speed of light, in effect the ship went into a +sort of fourth dimension, and came out of it a good many light-years +away. As far as Bart knew, no human being had ever survived warp-drive +except in the suspended animation which they called cold-sleep. While +the medic was professionally reassuring him and strapping him in his +bunk, Bart wondered what humans would do with the Lhari star-drive if +they had it. Well, he supposed they could use automation in their ships.</p> + +<p>The Mentorian paused, needle in hand. "Do you wish to be wakened for the +week we shall spend in each of the Proxima, Sirius and Pollux systems, +sir? You can, of course, be given enough drug to keep you in cold-sleep +until we reach the Procyon system."</p> + +<p>Bart wondered if the room steward had mentioned the passenger so bored +with the trip that he didn't even visit the Observation Lounge. He felt +tempted—he was getting awfully tired of staring at the walls. On the +other hand, he wanted very much to see the other star-systems. When he +passed through them on the trip to Earth, he'd been too young to pay +much attention.</p> + +<p>Firmly he put the temptation aside. Better not to risk meeting other +passengers, Tommy especially, if he decided he couldn't take the +boredom.</p> + +<p>The needle went into his arm. He felt himself sinking into sleep, and, +in sudden panic, realized that he was helpless. The ship would touch +down on three worlds, and on any of them the Lhari might have his +description, or his alias! He could be taken off, drugged and +unconscious, and might never wake up! He tried to move, to protest, to +tell them he was changing his mind, but already he was unable to speak. +There was a freezing moment of intense, painful cold. Then he was +floating in what felt like waves of cosmic dust, swirling many-colored +before his eyes. And then there was nothing, no color, nothing at all +except the nowhere night of sleep.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOUR" id="CHAPTER_FOUR"></a>CHAPTER FOUR</h2> + + +<p>Bart felt cold. He stirred, moved his head in drowsy protest; then +memory came flooding back, and in sudden panic he sat up, flinging out +his arms as if to ward away anyone who would lay hands on him.</p> + +<p>"Easy!" said a soothing voice. A Mentorian—not the same Mentorian—bent +over him. "We have just entered the gravitational field of Procyon +planet Alpha, Mr. Briscoe. Touchdown in four hours."</p> + +<p>Bart mumbled an apology.</p> + +<p>"Think nothing of it. Quite a number of people who aren't used to the +cold-sleep drug suffer from minor lapses of memory. How do you feel +now?"</p> + +<p>Bart's legs were numb and his hands tingled when he sat up; but his body +processes had been slowed so much by the cold-sleep that he didn't even +feel hungry; the synthetic jelly he'd eaten just before going to sleep +wasn't even digested yet.</p> + +<p>When the Mentorian left for another cabin, Bart looked around, and +suddenly felt he would stifle if he stayed here another minute. He +wasn't likely to run into Tommy twice in a row, and if he did, well, +Tommy would probably remember the snub he'd had and stay away from Dave +Briscoe. And he wanted another sight of the stars—before he went into +worry and danger.</p> + +<p>He went down to the Observation Lounge.</p> + +<p>The cosmic dust was brighter out here, and the constellations looked a +little flattened. Textbook tables came back to him. He had traveled 47 +light-years—he couldn't remember how many <i>billions</i> of miles that was. +Even so, it was only the tiniest hop-skip-and-jump in the measureless +vastness of space.</p> + +<p>The ship was streaking toward Procyon, a sol-type star, bright yellow; +the three planets, Alpha, Beta and Gamma, ringed like Saturn and veiled +in shimmering layers of cloud, swung against the night. Past them other +stars, brighter stars, faraway stars he would never see, glimmered +through the pale dust....</p> + +<p>"Hello, Dave. Been space-sick all this time? Remember me? I met you +about six weeks ago in the lounge down here—just out from Earth."</p> + +<p><i>Oh, no!</i> Bart turned, with a mental groan, to face Tommy. "I've been in +cold-sleep," he said. He <i>couldn't</i> be rude again.</p> + +<p>"What a dull way to face a long trip!" Tommy said cheerily. "I've +enjoyed every minute of it myself."</p> + +<p>It was hard for Bart to realize that, for Tommy, their meeting had been +six weeks ago. It all seemed dreamlike. The closer he came to it, the +less he could realize that in a few hours he'd be getting off on a +strange world, with only the strange name <i>Raynor Three</i> as a guide. He +felt terribly alone, and having Tommy close at hand helped, even though +Tommy didn't know he was helping.</p> + +<p>"Maybe I should have stayed awake."</p> + +<p>"You should," Tommy said. "I only slept for a couple of hours at each +warp-drive shift. We had a day-long stopover at Sirius Eighteen, and I +took a tour of the planet. And I've spent a lot of time down here, just +star-gazing—not that it did me much good. Which one is Antares? How do +you tell it from Aldebaran? I'm always getting them mixed up."</p> + +<p>Bart pointed. "Aldebaran—that's the big red one there," he said. "Think +of the constellation Taurus as a necklace, with Aldebaran hanging from +it like a locket. Antares is much further down in the sky, in relation +to the arbitrary sidereal axis, and it's a deeper red. Like a burning +coal, while Aldebaran is like a ruby—"</p> + +<p>He broke off in mid-word, realizing that Tommy was gazing at him in a +mixture of triumph and consternation. Too late, Bart realized he had +been tricked. Studying for an exam, the year before, he had explained +the difference between the two red stars in almost the same words.</p> + +<p>"Bart," Tommy said in a whisper, "I knew it had to be you. Why didn't +you tell me, fella?"</p> + +<p>Bart felt himself start to smile, but it only stretched his mouth. He +said, very low, "Don't say my name out loud Tom. I'm in terrible +trouble."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me? What's a friend for?"</p> + +<p>"We can't talk here. And all the cabins are wired for sound in case +somebody stops breathing, or has a heart attack in space," Bart said, +glancing around.</p> + +<p>They went and stood at the very foot of the quartz window, seeming to +tread the brink of a dizzying gulf of cosmic space, and talked in low +tones while Alpha and Beta and Gamma swelled like blown-up balloons in +the port.</p> + +<p>Tommy listened, almost incredulous. "And you're hoping to find your +father, with no more information than that? It's a big universe," he +said, waving at the gulf of stars. "The Lhari ships, according to the +little tourist pamphlet they gave me, touch down at nine hundred and +twenty-two different stars in this galaxy!"</p> + +<p>Bart visibly winced, and Tommy urged, "Come to Capella with me. You can +stay with my family as long as you want to, and appeal to the +Interplanet authority to find your father. They'd protect him against +the Lhari, surely. You can't chase all over the galaxy playing +interplanetary spy all by yourself, Bart!"</p> + +<p>But Briscoe had deliberately gone to his death, to give Bart the chance +to get away. He wouldn't have died to send Bart into a trap he could +easily have sprung on Earth.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Tommy. But I've got to play it my way."</p> + +<p>Tommy said firmly, "Count me in then. My ticket has stopover privileges. +I'll get off at Procyon with you."</p> + +<p>It was a temptation—to have a friend at his back. He put his hand on +Tommy's shoulder, grateful beyond words. But fresh horror seized him as +he remembered the horrible puddle of melted robotcab with Briscoe +somewhere in the residue. <i>Protoplasm residue enough for two bodies.</i> He +couldn't let Tommy face that.</p> + +<p>"Tommy, I appreciate that, believe me. But if I did find my father and +his friends, I don't want anyone tracing me. You'd only make the danger +worse. The best thing you can do is stay out of it."</p> + +<p>Tommy faced him squarely. "One thing's for sure. I'm not going to let +you go off and never know whether you're alive or dead."</p> + +<p>"I'll try to get a message to you," Bart said, "if I can. But whatever +happens, Tommy, stay with the ship and go on to Capella. It's the one +thing you can do to help me."</p> + +<p>A warning bell rang in the ship. He broke sharply away from Tommy, +saying over his shoulder, "It's all you can do to help, Tom. Do +it—please? Just stay clear?"</p> + +<p>Tommy reached out and caught his arm. "Okay," he said reluctantly, "I +will. But you be careful," he added fiercely. "You hear me? And if I +don't hear from you in some reasonable time, I'll raise a stink from +here to Vega!"</p> + +<p>Bart broke away and ran. He was afraid, if he didn't, he'd break up +again. He closed the cabin door behind him, trying to calm down so that +the Mentorian steward, coming to strap him in for deceleration, wouldn't +see how upset he was. He was going to need all his nerve.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He went through another decontamination chamber, and finally moved, with +a line of passengers, out of the yawning airlock, under the strange sun, +into the strange world.</p> + +<p>At first sight it was a disappointment. It was a Lhari spaceport that +lay before him, to all appearances identical with the one on Earth: +sloping glass ramps, tall colorless pylons, a skyscraper terminus +crowded with men of all planets. But the sun overhead was brilliant and +clear gold, the shadows sharp and violet on the spaceport floor. Behind +the confines of the spaceport he could see the ridges of tall hills and +unfamiliarly colored trees. He longed to explore them, but he got a grip +on his imagination, surrendering his ticket stub and false papers to the +Lhari and Mentorian interpreter who guarded the ramp.</p> + +<p>The Lhari said to the Mentorian, in the Lhari language, "Keep him for +questioning but don't tell him why." Bart felt a cold chill icing his +spine. <i>This was it.</i></p> + +<p>The Mentorian said briefly, "We wish to check on the proper antibody +component for Aldebaran natives. There will be a delay of about thirty +minutes. Will you kindly wait in this room here?"</p> + +<p>The room was comfortable, furnished with chairs and a vision-screen with +some colorful story moving on it, small bright figures in capes, curious +beasts racing across an unusual veldt; but Bart paced the floor +restlessly. There were two doors in the room. Through one of them, he +had been admitted; he could see, through the glass door, the silhouette +of the Mentorian outside. The other door was opaque, and marked in large +letters:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">DANGER HUMANS MUST NOT PASS WITHOUT SPECIAL LENSES TYPE X. +ORDINARY SPACE LENSES WILL NOT SUFFICE DANGER! LHARI OPENING! +ADJUST X LENSES BEFORE OPENING!</span></p></div> + +<p>Bart read the sign again. Well, <i>that</i> was no way out, for sure! He had +heard that the Lhari sun was almost 500 times as bright as Earth's. The +Mentorians alone, among humans, could endure Lhari lights—he supposed +the warning was for ordinary spaceport workers.</p> + +<p>A sudden, rather desperate plan occurred to Bart. He didn't know how +much light he <i>could</i> tolerate—he'd never been on Mentor—but he <i>had</i> +inherited some of his mother's tolerance for light. And blindness would +be better than being burned down with an energon-gun! He went hesitantly +toward the door, and pushed it open.</p> + +<p>His eyes exploded into pain; automatically his hands went up to shield +them. Light, light—he had never known such cruelly glowing light. Even +through the lids there was pain and red afterimages; but after a moment, +opening them a slit, he found that he could see, and made out other +doors, glass ramps, pale Lhari figures coming and going. But for the +moment he was alone in the long corridor beyond which he could see the +glass ramps.</p> + +<p>Nearby, a door opened into a small office with glass walls; on a peg, +one of the silky metallic cloaks worn by Mentorians doing spaceport work +was hanging. On an impulse, Bart caught it up and flung it around his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>It felt cool and soft, and the hood shielded his eyes a little. The ramp +leading down to what he hoped was street level was terribly steep and +there were no steps. Bart eased himself over the top of the ramp and let +go. He whooshed down the slick surface on the flat of his back, feeling +the metal of the cloak heat with the friction, and came to a breathless +jarring stop at the bottom. Whew, what a slide! Three stories, at least! +But there was a door, and outside the door, maybe, safety.</p> + +<p>A voice hailed him, in Lhari. "You, there!"</p> + +<p>Bart could see well now. He made out the form of a Lhari, only a +colorless blob in the intense light.</p> + +<p>"You people know better than to come back here without glasses. Do you +want to be blinded, my friend?" He actually sounded kind and concerned. +Bart tensed, his heart pounding. Now that he was caught, could he bluff +his way out? He hadn't actually spoken the Lhari language in years, +though his mother had taught it to him when he was young enough to learn +it without a trace of accent.</p> + +<p>Well, he must try. "Margil sent me to check," he improvised quickly. +"They were holding someone for questioning, and he seems to have gotten +away somehow, so I wanted to make sure he didn't come through here."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter that one man can give us all the slip this way?" the +Lhari said curiously. "Well, one thing is sure, he's Vegan or Solarian +or Capellan, one of the dim-star people. If he comes through here, we'll +catch him easily enough while he's stumbling around half blind. You know +that you shouldn't stay long." He gestured. "Out this way—and don't +come back without special lenses."</p> + +<p>Bart nodded, jerking the cloak around his shoulders, forcing himself not +to break into a run as he stepped through the door the Lhari indicated. +It closed behind him. Bart blinked, feeling as if he had stepped into +pitch darkness. Only slowly did his eyes adapt and he became aware that +he was standing in a city street, in the full glow of Procyon sunlight, +and apparently outside the Lhari spaceport entirely.</p> + +<p>He'd better get to cover! He took off the Mentorian cloak, thrust it +under his arm. He raised his eyes, which were adjusting to ordinary +light again, and stopped dead.</p> + +<p>Just across the street was a long, low, rainbow colored building. And +the letters—Bart blinked, thinking his eyes deceived him—spelled out:</p> + +<h4>EIGHT COLORS TRANSSHIPPING CORPORATION<br /> +CARGO, PASSENGERS, MESSAGES, EXPRESS<br /> +A. RAYNOR ONE, MANAGER</h4> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIVE" id="CHAPTER_FIVE"></a>CHAPTER FIVE</h2> + + +<p>For a moment the words swirled before Bart's still-watering eyes. He +wiped them, trying to steady himself. Had he so soon reached the end of +his dangerous quest? Somehow he had expected it to lie in deep, dark +concealment.</p> + +<p>Raynor One. The existence of Raynor <i>One</i> presupposed a Raynor <i>Two</i> and +probably a Raynor <i>Three</i>—for all he knew, Raynors Four, Five, Six, and +Sixty-six! The building looked solid and real. It had evidently been +there a long time.</p> + +<p>With his hand on the door, he hesitated. Was it, after all, the <i>right</i> +Eight Colors? But it was a family saying; hardly the sort of thing you'd +be apt to hear outside. He pushed the door and went in.</p> + +<p>The room was filled with brighter light than the Procyon sun outdoors, +the edges of the furniture rimmed with neon in the Mentorian fashion. A +prim-looking girl sat behind a desk—or what should have been a desk, +except that it looked more like a mirror, with little sparkles of +lights, different colors, in regular rows along one edge. The mirror-top +itself was blue-violet and gave her skin and her violet eyes a bluish +tinge. She was smooth and lacquered and glittering and she raised her +eyebrows at Bart as if he were some strange form of life she hadn't seen +very often.</p> + +<p>"I'd—er—like to see Raynor One," he said.</p> + +<p>Her dainty pointed fingernail, varnished blue, stabbed at points of +light. "On what business?" she asked, not caring.</p> + +<p>"It's a personal matter."</p> + +<p>"Then I suggest you see him at his home."</p> + +<p>"It can't wait that long."</p> + +<p>The girl studied the glassy surface and punched at some more of the +little lights. "Name, please?"</p> + +<p>"David Briscoe."</p> + +<p>He had thought her perfect-painted face could not show any emotion +except disdain, but it did. She looked at him in open, blank +consternation. She said into the vision-screen, "He calls himself David +Briscoe. Yes, I know. Yes, sir, yes." She raised her face, and it was +controlled again, but not bored. "Raynor One will see you. Through that +door, and down to the end of the hall."</p> + +<p>At the end of the hallway was another door. He stepped through into a +small cubicle, and the door slid shut like a closing trap. He whirled in +panic, then subsided in foolish relief as the cubicle began to rise—it +was just an automatic elevator.</p> + +<p>It rose higher and higher, stopping with an abrupt jerk, and slid open +into a lighted room and office. A man sat behind a desk, watching Bart +step from the elevator. The man was very tall and very thin, and the +gray eyes, and the intensity of the lights, told Bart that he was a +Mentorian. <i>Raynor One?</i></p> + +<p>Under the steady, stern gray stare, Bart felt the slow, clutching suck +of fear again. Was this man a slave of the Lhari, who would turn him +over to them? Or someone he could trust? His own mother had been a +Mentorian.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" Raynor One's voice was harsh, and gave the impression of +being loud, though it was not.</p> + +<p>"David Briscoe."</p> + +<p>It was the wrong thing. The Mentorian's mouth was taut, forbidding. "Try +again. I happen to know that David Briscoe is dead."</p> + +<p>"I have a message for Raynor Three."</p> + +<p>The cold gray stare never altered. "On what business?"</p> + +<p>On a sudden inspiration, Bart said, "I'll tell you that if you can tell +me what the Eighth Color is."</p> + +<p>There was a glint in the grim eyes now, though the even, stern voice did +not soften. "I never knew myself. I didn't name it Eight Colors. Maybe +it's the original owner you want."</p> + +<p>On a sudden hope, Bart asked, "Was he, by any chance, named Rupert +Steele?"</p> + +<p>Raynor One made a suspicious movement. "I can't imagine why you think +so," he said guardedly. "Especially if you've just come in from Earth. +It was never very widely known. He only changed the name to Eight Colors +a few weeks ago. And it's for sure that your ship didn't get any +messages while the Lhari were in warp-drive. You mention entirely too +many names, but I notice you aren't giving out any further information."</p> + +<p>"I'm looking for a man called Rupert Steele."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were looking for Raynor Three," said Raynor One, staring +at the Mentorian cloak. "I can think of a lot of people who might want +to know how I react to certain names, and find out if I know the wrong +people, if they are the wrong people. What makes you think I'd admit it +if I did?"</p> + +<p>Now, Bart thought, they had reached a deadlock. Somebody had to trust +somebody. This could go on all night—parry and riposte, question and +evasive answer, each of them throwing back the other's questions in a +verbal fencing-match. Raynor One wasn't giving away any information. +And, considering what was probably at stake, Bart didn't blame him much.</p> + +<p>He flung the Mentorian cloak down on the table.</p> + +<p>"This got me out of trouble—the hard way," he said. "I never wore one +before and I never intend to again. I want to find Rupert Steele because +he's my father!"</p> + +<p>"Your father. And just how are you going to prove that exceptionally +interesting statement?"</p> + +<p>Without warning, Bart lost his temper.</p> + +<p>"I don't care whether I prove it or not! <i>You</i> try proving something for +a change, why don't you? If you know Rupert Steele, I don't have to +prove who I am—just take a good look at me! Or so Briscoe told me—a +man who called himself Briscoe, anyway. He gave me papers to travel +under that name! I didn't ask for them, he shoved them into my hand. +<i>That</i> Briscoe is dead." Bart struck his fist hard on the desk, bending +over Raynor One angrily.</p> + +<p>"He sent me to find a man named Raynor Three. But the only one I really +care about finding is my father. Now you know as much as I do, how about +giving <i>me</i> some information for a change?"</p> + +<p>He ran out of breath and stood glaring down at Raynor One, fists +clenched. Raynor One got up and said, quick, savage and quiet, "Did +anyone see you come here?"</p> + +<p>"Only the girl downstairs."</p> + +<p>"How did you get through the Lhari? In that?" He moved his head at the +Mentorian cloak.</p> + +<p>Bart explained briefly, and Raynor One shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You were lucky," he said, "you could have been blinded. You must have +inherited flash-accommodation from the Mentorian side—Rupert Steele +didn't have it. I'll tell you this much," he added, sitting down again. +"In a manner of speaking, you're my boss. Eight Colors—it used to be +Alpha Transshipping—is what they call a middleman outfit. The +interplanet cargo lines transport from planet to planet within a +system—that's free competition—and the Lhari ships transport from star +to star—that's a monopoly all over the galaxy. The middleman outfits +arrange for orderly and businesslike liaison between the two. Rupert +Steele bought into this company, a long time ago, but he left it for me +to manage, until recently."</p> + +<p>Raynor punched a button, said to the image of the glossy girl at the +desk, "Violet, get Three for me. You may have to send a message to the +<i>Multiphase</i>."</p> + +<p>He swung round to Bart again. "You want a lot of explanations? Well, +you'll have to get 'em from somebody else. I don't know what this is all +about. I don't <i>want</i> to know: I have to do business with the Lhari. The +less I know, the less I'm apt to say to the wrong people. But I promised +Three that if you turned up, or if anyone came and asked for the Eighth +Color, I'd send you to him. That's all."</p> + +<p>He motioned Bart ungraciously to a seat, and shut his mouth firmly, as +if he had already said too much. Bart sat. After a while he heard the +elevator again; the panel slid open and Raynor Three came into the room.</p> + +<p>It had to be Raynor Three; there was no one else he could have been. He +was as like Raynor One as Tweedledum to Tweedledee: tall, stern, ascetic +and grim. He wore the full uniform of a Mentorian on Lhari ships: the +white smock of a medic, the metallic blue cloak, the low silvery +sandals.</p> + +<p>He said, "What's doing, One? Violet—" and then he caught sight of Bart. +His eyes narrowed and he drew a quick breath, his face twisting up into +apprehension and shock.</p> + +<p>"It must be Steele's boy," he said, and immediately Bart saw the +difference between the—were they brothers? For Raynor One's face, +controlled and stern, had not altered all during their interview, but +Raynor Three's smile was wry and kindly at once, and his voice was low +and gentle. "He's the image of Rupert. Did he come in on his own name? +How'd he manage it?"</p> + +<p>"No. He had David Briscoe's papers."</p> + +<p>"So the old man got through," said Raynor Three, with a low whistle. +"But that's not safe. Quick, give them to me, Bart."</p> + +<p>"The Lhari have them."</p> + +<p>Raynor One walked to the window and said in his deadpan voice, "It's +useless. But get the kid out of here before they come looking for me. +Look."</p> + +<p>He pointed. Below them, the streets were alive with uniformed Lhari and +Mentorians. Bart felt sick.</p> + +<p>"If they had the same efficiency with red tape that we humans have, he'd +never have made it this far."</p> + +<p>Raynor Three actually smiled. "But you can count on them for that much +inefficiency," he said, and his eyes twinkled for a moment at Bart. +"That's how it was so easy to work the old double-shuffle trick on them. +They had Steele's description but not his name, so Briscoe took Steele's +papers and managed to slip through. Once they landed on Earth, they had +the Steele <i>names</i>, but by the time that cleared, you were outbound with +another set of papers. It may have confused them, because they knew +<i>David</i> Briscoe was dead—and there was just a chance you were an +innocent bystander who could raise a real row if they pulled you in. Did +old Briscoe get away?"</p> + +<p>"No," Bart said, harshly, "he's dead."</p> + +<p>Raynor Three's mobile face held shocked sadness. "Two brave men," he +said softly, "Edmund Briscoe the father, David Briscoe the son. Remember +the name, Bart, because I won't remember it."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>Raynor Three gave him a gold-glinting, enigmatic glance. "I'm a +Mentorian, remember? I'm good at not remembering things. Just be glad I +remember Rupert Steele. If you'd been a few days later, I wouldn't have +remembered him, though I promised to wait for you."</p> + +<p>Raynor One demanded, "Get him <i>out</i> of here, Three!"</p> + +<p>Raynor Three swung to Bart. "Put that on again." He indicated the +Mentorian cloak. "Pull the hood right up over your head. Now, if we meet +anyone, say a polite good afternoon in Lhari—you <i>can</i> speak +Lhari?—and leave the rest of the talking to me."</p> + +<p>Bart felt like cringing as they came out into the street full of Lhari; +but Raynor Three whispered, "Attack is the best defense," and went up to +one of the Lhari. "What's going on, <i>rieko mori</i>?"</p> + +<p>"A passenger on the ship got away without going through Decontam. He may +spread disease, so of course we have alerted all authorities," the Lhari +said.</p> + +<p>As the Lhari strode past, Raynor Three grimaced. "Clever, that. Now the +whole planet will be hunting for any stranger, worrying themselves into +fits about some unauthorized germ. We'd better get you to a safe place. +My country house is a good way off, but I have a copter."</p> + +<p>Bart demanded, as they climbed in, "Are you taking me to my father?"</p> + +<p>"Wait till we get to my place," Raynor Three said, taking the controls +and putting the machine in the air. "Just lean back and enjoy the trip, +huh?"</p> + +<p>Bart relaxed against the cushions, but he still felt apprehensive. Where +was his father? If he was a fugitive from the Lhari, he might by now be +at the other end of the galaxy. But if his father couldn't travel on +Lhari ships, and if he had been here, the chances were that he was still +somewhere in the Procyon system.</p> + +<p>They flew for a long time; across low hills, patchwork agricultural +districts, towns, and then for a long time over water. The copter had +automatic controls, but Raynor Three kept it on manual, and Bart +wondered if the Mentorian just didn't want to talk.</p> + +<p>It began to descend, at last, toward a small green hill, bright in the +last gold rays on sunset. A small domelike pink bubble rose out of the +hill. Raynor Three set the copter neatly down on a platform that slid +shut after them, unfastened their seat belts and gave Bart a hand to +climb out.</p> + +<p>He ushered him into a living room of glass and chrome, softly lighted, +but deserted and faintly dusty. Raynor pushed a switch; soft music came +on, and the carpets caressed his feet. He motioned Bart to a chair.</p> + +<p>"You're safe here, for a while," Raynor Three said, "though how long, +nobody knows. But so far, I've been above suspicion."'</p> + +<p>Bart leaned back; the chair was very comfortable, but the comfort could +not help him to relax.</p> + +<p>"Where is my father?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Raynor Three stood looking down at him, his mobile face drawn and +strange. "I guess I can't put it off any longer," he said softly. Then +he covered his face with his hands. From behind them hoarse words came, +choked with emotion.</p> + +<p>"Your father is dead, Bart. I—I killed him."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIX" id="CHAPTER_SIX"></a>CHAPTER SIX</h2> + + +<p>For a moment Bart stared, frozen, unable to move, his very ears refusing +the words he heard. Had this all been another cruel trick, then, a trap, +a betrayal? He rose and looked wildly around the room, as if the glass +walls were a cage closing in on him.</p> + +<p>"Murderer!" he flung at Raynor, and took a step toward him, his clenched +fists coming up. He'd been shoved around too long, but here he had one +of them right in front of him, and for once he'd hit back! He'd start by +taking Raynor Three apart—in small pieces! "You—you rotten murderer!"</p> + +<p>Raynor Three made no move to defend himself. "Bart," he said +compassionately, "sit down and listen to me. No, I'm no murderer. I—I +shouldn't have put it that way."</p> + +<p>Bart's hands dropped to his sides, but he heard his voice crack with +pain and grief: "I suppose you'll tell me he was a spy or a traitor and +you <i>had</i> to kill him!"</p> + +<p>"Not even that. I tried to save your father, I did everything I could. +I'm no murderer, Bart. I killed him, yes—God forgive me, because I'll +never forgive myself!"</p> + +<p>Bart's fists unclenched and he stared down at Raynor Three, shaking his +head in bewilderment and pain. "I knew he was dead! I knew it all along! +I was trying not to believe it, but I knew!"</p> + +<p>"I liked your father. I admired him. He took a long chance, and it +killed him. I could have stopped him, I should have stopped him, but how +could I? Where did I have the right to stop him, after what I did +to—" he stopped, almost in mid-word, as if a switch had been turned.</p> + +<p>But Bart was not listening. He swung away, striding to the wall as if he +would kick it in, striking it with his two clenched fists, his whole +being in revolt. <i>Dad, oh, Dad! I kept going, I thought at the end of it +you'd be here and it would all be over. But here I am at the end of it +all, and you're not here, you won't ever be here again.</i></p> + +<p>Dimly, he knew when Raynor Three rose and left him alone. He leaned his +head on his clenched fists, and cried.</p> + +<p>After a long time he raised his head and blew his nose, his face setting +itself in new, hard, unaccustomed lines, slowly coming to terms with the +hard, painful reality. His father was dead. His dangerous, +dead-in-earnest game of escape had no happy ending of reunion with his +father. They couldn't sit together and laugh about how scared he had +been. His father was <i>dead</i>, and he, Bart, was alone and in danger. His +face looked very grim indeed, and years older than he was.</p> + +<p>After a long time Raynor Three opened the door quietly. "Come and have +something to eat, Bart."</p> + +<p>"I'm not hungry."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am," Raynor Three said, "and you ought to be. You'll need it." +He pulled knobs and the appropriate tables and chairs extruded +themselves from the walls. Raynor unsealed hot cartons and spread them +on the table, saying lightly, "Looks good—not that I can claim any +credit, I subscribe to a food service that delivers them hot by +pneumatic tube."</p> + +<p>Bart felt sickened by the thought of eating, but when he put a polite +fork in the food, he discovered that he was famished and ate up +everything in sight. When they had finished, Raynor dumped the cartons +into a disposal chute, went to a small portable bar and put a glass into +his hand.</p> + +<p>"Drink this."</p> + +<p>Bart touched his lips to the glass, made a face and put it away. +"Thanks, but I don't drink."</p> + +<p>"Call it medicine, you'll need something," Raynor Three said crossly. +"I've got a lot to tell you, and I don't want you going off half-primed +in the middle of a sentence. If you'd rather have a shot of +tranquilizer, all right; otherwise, I prescribe that you drink what I +gave you." He gave Bart a quick, wry grin. "I really am a medic, you +know."</p> + +<p>Feeling like a scolded child, Bart drank. It burned his mouth, but after +it was down, he felt a sort of warm burning in his insides that +gradually spread a sense of well-being all through him. It wasn't +alcohol, but whatever it was, it had quite a kick.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," he muttered. "Why are you taking this trouble, Raynor? There +must be danger—"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know—" Raynor broke off. "Obviously, you don't. Your mother +never said much about your Mentorian family tree, I suppose? She was a +Raynor." He smiled at Bart, a little ruefully. "I won't claim a +kinsman's privileges until you decide how much to trust me."</p> + +<p>Raynor Three settled back.</p> + +<p>"It's a long story and I only know part of it," he began. "Our family, +the Raynors, have traded with the Lhari for more generations than I can +count. When I was a young man, I qualified as a medic on the Lhari +ships, and I've been star-hopping ever since. People call us the slaves +of the Lhari—maybe we are," he added wryly. "But I began it just +because space is where I belong, and there's nowhere else that I've ever +wanted to be. And I'll take it at any price.</p> + +<p>"I never questioned what I was doing until a few years ago. It was your +father who made me wonder if we Mentorians were blind and selfish—this +privilege ought to belong to everyone, not just the Lhari. More and +more, the Lhari monopoly seemed wrong to me. But I was just a medic. And +if I involved myself in any conspiracy against the Lhari, they'd find it +out in the routine psych-checking.</p> + +<p>"And then we worked out how it could be done. Before every trip, with +self-hypnosis and self-suggestion, I erase my own memories—a sort of +artificial amnesia—so that the Lhari can't find out any more than I +want them to find out. Of course, it also means that I have no memory, +while I'm on the Lhari ships, of what I've agreed to while I'm—" His +face suddenly worked, and his mouth moved without words, as if he had +run into some powerful barrier against speech.</p> + +<p>It was a full minute, while Bart stared in dismay, before he found his +voice again, saying, "So far, it was just a sort of loose network, +trying to put together stray bits of information that the Lhari didn't +think important enough to censor.</p> + +<p>"And then came the big breakthrough. There was a young Apprentice +astrogator named David Briscoe. He'd taken some runs in special test +ships, and read some extremely obscure research data from the early days +of the contact between men and Lhari, and he had a wild idea. He did the +bravest thing anyone has ever done. He stripped himself of all +identifying data—so that if he died, no one would be in trouble with +the Lhari—and stowed away on a Lhari ship."</p> + +<p>"But—" Bart's lips were dry—"didn't he die in the warp-drive?"</p> + +<p>Slowly, Raynor Three shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No, he didn't. No drugs, no cold-sleep—but he didn't die. Don't you +see, Bart?" He leaned forward, urgently.</p> + +<p>"<i>It's all a fake!</i> The Lhari have just been saying that to justify +their refusal to give us the secret of the catalyst that generates the +warp-drive frequencies! Such a simple lie, and it's worked for all these +years!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"A Mentorian found him and didn't have the heart to turn him over to the +Lhari. So he was smuggled clear again. But when that Mentorian underwent +the routine brain-checks at the end of the voyage, the Lhari found out +what had happened. They didn't know Briscoe's name, but they wrung that +Mentorian out like a wet dishcloth and got a description that was as +good as fingerprints. They tracked down young Briscoe and killed him. +They killed the first man he'd talked to. They killed the second. The +third was your father."</p> + +<p>"The murdering devils!"</p> + +<p>Raynor sighed. "Your father and Briscoe's father were old friends. +Briscoe's father was dying with incurable heart disease; <i>his</i> son was +dead, and old Briscoe had only one thought in his mind—to make sure he +didn't die for nothing. So he took your father's papers, knowing they +were as good as a death warrant, slipped away and boarded a Lhari ship +that led roundabout to stars where the message hadn't reached yet. He +led them a good chase. Did he die or did they track him down and kill +him?" Bart bowed his head and told the story.</p> + +<p>"Meanwhile," Raynor Three continued, "your father came to me, knowing I +was sympathetic, knowing I was a Lhari-trained surgeon. He had just one +thought in his mind: to do, again, what David Briscoe had done, and make +sure the news got out this time. He cooked up a plan that was even +braver and more desperate. He decided to sign on a Lhari ship as a +member of the crew."</p> + +<p>"As a Mentorian?" Bart asked, but something cold, like ice water +trickling down his back, told him this was not what Raynor meant. "The +brainwashing—"</p> + +<p>"No," said Raynor, "not as a Mentorian; he couldn't have escaped the +psych-checking. <i>As a Lhari.</i>"</p> + +<p>Bart gasped. "How—"</p> + +<p>"Men and Lhari are very much alike," Raynor Three said. "A few small +things—skin color, the shape of the ears, the hands and claws—keep +humans from seeing that the Lhari are men."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that," Bart almost yelled. "Those filthy, murdering devils! +You call those monsters men?"</p> + +<p>"I've lived among the Lhari all my life. They're not devils, Bart, they +have their reasons. Physiologically, the Lhari are—well, <i>humanoid</i>, if +you like that better. They're a lot more like a man than a man is like, +for instance, a gorilla. Your father convinced me that with minor +plastic and facial surgery, he could pass as a Lhari. And finally I gave +in, and did the surgery—"</p> + +<p>"And it killed him!"</p> + +<p>"Not really. It was a completely unforeseeable thing—a blood clot broke +loose in a vein, and lodged in his brain. He was dead in seconds. It +could have happened at any time," he said, "yet I feel responsible, even +though I keep telling myself I'm not. And I'll help you as much as I +can—for his sake, and for your mother's. The Lhari don't watch me too +closely—they figure that anything I do they'll catch in the +brainwashing. But I'm still one step ahead of them, as long as I can +erase my own memories."</p> + +<p>Bart was sifting it all, slowly, in his mind.</p> + +<p>"Why was Dad doing this? What could he gain?"</p> + +<p>"You know we can build ships as good as the Lhari ships, but we don't +know anything about the rare catalyst they use for warp-drive fuel. +Captain Steele had hopes of being able to discover where they got it."</p> + +<p>"But couldn't they find out where the Lhari ships go for fueling?"</p> + +<p>"No. There's no way to trail a Lhari ship," he reminded Bart. "We can +follow them inside a star-system, but then they pop into warp-drive, and +we don't know where they go when they aren't running between <i>our</i> +stars.</p> + +<p>"We've gathered together what information we <i>do</i> have, and we know that +after a certain number of runs in our part of the galaxy, ships take off +in the direction of Antares. There's a ship, due to come in here in +about ten days, called the <i>Swiftwing</i>, which is just about due to make +the Antares run. Captain Steele had managed to arrange—I don't know +how, and I don't want to know how—for a vacancy on that ship, and +somehow he got credentials. You see, it's a very good spy system, a +network between the stars, but the weak link is this: everything, every +message, every man, has to travel back and forth by the Lhari ships +themselves."</p> + +<p>He rose, shaking it all off impatiently. "Well, it's finished now. Your +father is dead. What are you going to do? If you want to go back to +Vega, you can probably convince the Lhari you're just an innocent +bystander. They <i>don't</i> hurt bystanders or children, Bart. They aren't +bad people. They're just protecting their business monopoly.</p> + +<p>"The safest way to handle it would be this: let me erase your memories +of what I've told you tonight. Then just let the Lhari capture you. They +won't kill you. They'll just give you a light psych-check. When they +find out you don't know anything, they'll send you back to Vega, and you +can spend the rest of your life in peace, running Vega Interplanet and +Eight Colors."</p> + +<p>Bart turned on him furiously. "You mean, go home like a good little boy, +and pretend none of this ever happened? What do you think I am, anyhow?" +Bart's chin set in the new, hard line. "What I want is a chance to go on +where Dad left off!"</p> + +<p>"It won't be easy, and it could be dangerous," Raynor Three said, "but +there's nothing else to be done. We had the arrangements all made; and +now somebody's got to take the dangerous risk of calling them off. Are +you game for a little plastic surgery—just enough to change your looks +again, with new forged papers? You can't go by the <i>Swiftwing</i>—it +doesn't carry passengers—but there's another route you can take."</p> + +<p>Bart sprang up. "No," he said, "I know a better way. Let me go on the +<i>Swiftwing</i>—in Dad's place—<i>as a Lhari</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Bart, no," Raynor Three said. "You'd never get away with it. It's too +dangerous." But his gold eyes glinted.</p> + +<p>"Why not? I speak Lhari better than Dad ever did. And my eyes can stand +Lhari lights. You said yourself, it's going to be a dangerous job just +calling off all the arrangements. So let's <i>not</i> call them off. Just let +me take Dad's place!"</p> + +<p>"Bart, you're only a boy—"</p> + +<p>"What was Dave Briscoe? No, Raynor. Dad left me a lot more than Vega +Interplanet, and you know it. I'll finish what he started, and then +maybe I'll begin to deserve what he left me."</p> + +<p>Raynor Three gripped Bart's hand. He said, in a voice that shook, "All +right, Bart. You're your father's son. I can't say more than that. I +haven't any right to stop you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2> + + +<p>"All right, Bart, today we'll let you look at yourself," Raynor Three +said.</p> + +<p>Bart smiled under the muffling layers of bandage around his face. His +hands were bandaged, too, and he had not been permitted to look in a +mirror. But the transition had been surprisingly painless—or perhaps +his sense of well-being had been due to Raynor Three slipping him some +drug.</p> + +<p>He'd been given injections of a chemical that would change the color of +his skin; there had been minor operations on his face, his hands, his +feet.</p> + +<p>"Let's see you get up and walk around."</p> + +<p>Bart obeyed awkwardly, and Raynor frowned. "Hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly, but I feel as if I were limping."</p> + +<p>"That's to be expected. I changed the angle of the heel tendon and the +muscle of the arch. You're using a different set of muscles when you +walk; until they harden up, you'll have some assorted Charley horses. +Have any trouble hearing me?"</p> + +<p>"No, though I'd hear better without all these bandages," Bart said +impatiently.</p> + +<p>"All in good time. Any trouble breathing?"</p> + +<p>"No, except for the bandages."</p> + +<p>"Fine. I changed the shape of your ears and nostrils, and it might have +affected your hearing or your breathing. Now, listen, Bart: I'm going to +take the bandages off your hands first. Sit down."</p> + +<p>Bart sat across the table from him, obediently sticking out his hands. +Raynor Three said, "Shut your eyes."</p> + +<p>Bart did as he was told and felt Raynor Three's long fingers working at +the bandages.</p> + +<p>"Move each finger as I touch it." Bart obeyed, and Raynor said +neutrally, "Good. Now, take a deep breath and then open your eyes."</p> + +<p>Impatiently Bart flicked his lids open. In spite of the warning, his +breath went out in a harsh, jolting gasp. His hands lay on the table +before him—but they were not his hands.</p> + +<p>The narrow, long fingers were pearl-gray, tipped with whitish-pink claws +that curved out over the tips. Nervously Bart moved one finger, and the +long claw flicked out like a cat's, retracted. He swallowed.</p> + +<p>"Golly!" He felt strangely wobbly.</p> + +<p>"A beautiful job, if I do say so. Be careful not to scratch yourself, +and practice picking up small things."</p> + +<p>Bart saw that the long grayish claws were trembling. "How did you +make—the claws?"</p> + +<p>"Quite simple, really," Raynor beamed. "I injected protein compounds +into the nail matrix, which speeded up nail growth terrifically, and +then, as they grew, shaped them. Joining on those tiny muscles for the +retracting mechanism was the tricky part though."</p> + +<p>Bart was moving his hands experimentally. Once over the shock, they felt +quite normal. The claws didn't get in his way half so much as he'd +expected when he picked up a pen that lay beside him and, with the blunt +tip, made a few of the strange-looking dots and wedges that were the +Lhari alphabet.</p> + +<p>"Practice writing this," said Raynor Three, and laid a plastic-encased +folder down beside him. It was a set of ship's papers printed in Lhari. +Bart read it through, seeing that it was made out to the equivalent of +Astrogator, First Class, Bartol.</p> + +<p>"That's your name now, the name your father would have used. Memorize +it, get used to the sound of it, practice writing it. Don't worry too +much about the rating; it's an elementary one, what we'd call Apprentice +rating, and I have a training tape for you anyhow. My brother got hold +of it, don't ask me how—and don't ask him!"</p> + +<p>"When am I going to see my face?"</p> + +<p>"When I think you're ready for the shock," Raynor said bluntly. "It +almost threw you when I showed you your hands."</p> + +<p>He made Bart walk around some more briefly, slowly, he unwound the +bandages; then turned and picked up a mirror at the bottom of his +medic's case, turning it right side up. "Here. But take it easy."</p> + +<p>But when Bart looked in the mirror he felt no unexpected shock, only an +unnerving revulsion.</p> + +<p>His hair was bleached-white and fluffy, almost feathery to the touch. +His skin was grayish-rose, and his eyelids had been altered just enough +to make his eyes look long, narrow and slanted. His nostrils were mere +slits, and he moved his tongue over lips that felt oddly thin.</p> + +<p>"I did as little to your teeth as I thought I could get away with-capped +the front ones," Raynor Three told him. "So if you get a toothache +you're out of luck—you won't dare go to a Lhari dentist. I could have +done more, but it would have made you look too freakish when we changed +you back to human again—if you live that long," he added grimly.</p> + +<p><i>I hadn't thought about that. And if Raynor is going to forget me, who +will do it?</i> The cold knot of fear, never wholly absent, moved in him +again.</p> + +<p>Watching his face, Raynor Three said gently, "It's a big network, Bart. +I'm not telling you much, for your own safety. But when you get to +Antares, they'll tell you all you need to know."</p> + +<p>He lifted Bart's oddly clawed hands. "I warned you, remember—the change +isn't completely reversible. Your hands will always look—strange. The +fingers had to be lengthened, for instance. I wanted to make you as safe +as possible among the Lhari. I think you'll pass anything but an X-ray. +Just be careful not to break any bones."</p> + +<p>He gave Bart a package. "This is the Lhari training tape. Listen to it +as often as you can, then destroy it—<i>completely</i>—before you leave +here. The <i>Swiftwing</i> is due in port three days from now, and they stay +here a week. I don't know how we'll manage it, but I'll guarantee +there'll be a vacancy of one Astrogator, First Class, on that ship." He +rose. "And now I'm going back to town and erase the memory." He stopped, +looking intently at Bart.</p> + +<p>"So if you see me, stay away from me and don't speak, because I won't +know you from any other Lhari. Understand? From here on, you're on your +own, Bart."</p> + +<p>He held out his hand. "This is the rough part, Son." His face moved +strangely. "I'm part of this network between the stars, but I don't know +what I've done before, and I'll never know how it comes out. It's funny +to stand here and look at you and realize that I won't even remember +you." The gold-glinted eyes blinked rapidly. "Goodbye, Bart. And—good +luck, Son."</p> + +<p>Bart took his hand, deeply moved, with the strange sense that this was +another death—a worse one than Briscoe's. He tried to speak and +couldn't.</p> + +<p>"Well—" Raynor's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Ouch! Careful with +those claws. The Lhari don't shake hands."</p> + +<p>He turned abruptly and went out of the door and out of Bart's life, +while Bart stood at the dome-window, feeling alone as he had never felt +alone before.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He had to wait six days, and they felt like six eternities. He played +the training tape over and over. With his Academy background, it wasn't +nearly so difficult as he'd feared. He read and reread the set of papers +identifying him as Astrogator, First Class, Bartol. Forged, he supposed. +Or was there, somewhere, a real Bartol?</p> + +<p>The last morning he slept uneasily late. He finished his last meal as a +human, spent part of the day removing all traces of his presence from +Raynor's home, burned the training tape, and finally got into the silky, +silvery tights and cloak that Raynor had provided. He could use his +hands now as if they belonged to him; he even found the claws handy and +useful. He could write his signature, and copy out instructions from the +training tape, without a moment's hesitation.</p> + +<p>Toward dusk, a young Lhari slipped unobserved out of Raynor's house and +hiked unnoticed to the edges of a small city nearby, where he mingled +with the crowd and hired a skycab from an unobservant human driver to +take him to the spaceport city. The skycab driver was startled, but not, +Bart judged, unusually so, to pick up a Lhari passenger.</p> + +<p>"Been doing a little sight-seeing on our planet, hey?"</p> + +<p>"That's right," Bart said in Universal, not trying to fake his idea of +the Lhari accent. Raynor had told him that only a few of the Lhari had +that characteristic sibilant "r" and "s" and warned him against trying +to imitate it. <i>Just speak naturally; there are dialects of Lhari, just +as there are dialects of the different human languages, and they all +sound different in Universal anyhow.</i> "Just looking around some."</p> + +<p>The skycab driver frowned and looked down at his controls, and Bart felt +curiously snubbed. Then he remembered. He himself had little to say to +the Lhari when they spoke to him.</p> + +<p><i>He was an alien, a monster. He couldn't expect to be treated like a +human being any more.</i></p> + +<p>When the skycab let him off before the spaceport, it felt strange to see +how the crowds edged away from him as he made a way through them. He +caught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirror-ramps, a tall thin +strange form in a metallic cloak, head crested with feathery white, and +felt overwhelmingly homesick for his own familiar face.</p> + +<p>He was beginning to feel hungry, and realized that he could not go into +an ordinary restaurant without attracting attention. There were +refreshment stands all over the spaceport, and he briefly considered +getting a snack at one of these.</p> + +<p>No, that was just putting it off. The time had to come when he must face +his fear and test his disguise among the Lhari themselves. Reviewing his +knowledge of the construction of spaceports, he remembered that one side +was the terminal, where humans and visitors and passengers were freely +admitted; the other side, for Lhari and their Mentorian employees only, +contained—along with business offices of many sorts—a sort of arcade +with amusement centers, shops and restaurants catering to the personnel +of the Lhari ships. With nine or ten ships docking every day, Raynor had +assured him that a strange Lhari face would be lost in the crowds very +easily.</p> + +<p>He went to one of the doors marked <span class="smcap">danger, Lhari lights +beyond</span>, and passed through the glaring corridor of offices and +storage-warehouses, finally coming out into a sort of wide mall. The +lights were fierce, but he could endure them without trouble now, though +his head ached faintly. Raynor, testing his light tolerance, had assured +him that he could endure anything the Lhari could, without permanent +damage to his optic nerves, though he would have headaches until he got +used to them.</p> + +<p>There were small shops and what looked like bars, and a glass-fronted +place with a sign lettered largely, in black letters, a Lhari phrase +meaning roughly <span class="smcap">home away from home: meals served, spacemen welcome, +reasonable</span>.</p> + +<p>Behind him a voice said in Lhari, "Tell me, does that sign mean what it +says? Or is this one of those traps for separating the unwary spaceman +from his hard-earned credits? How's the food?"</p> + +<p>Bart carefully took hold of himself.</p> + +<p>"I was just wondering that myself." He turned as he spoke, finding +himself face to face with a young Lhari in the unadorned cloak of a +spaceman without official rank. He knew the Lhari was young because his +crest was still white.</p> + +<p>The young Lhari extended his claws in the closed-fist, hidden-claw +gesture of Lhari greeting. "Shall we take a chance? Ringg son of Rahan +greets you."</p> + +<p>"Bartol son of Berihun."</p> + +<p>"I don't remember seeing you in the port, Bartol."</p> + +<p>"I've mostly worked on the Polaris run."</p> + +<p>"Way off there?" Ringg son of Rahan sounded startled and impressed. "You +really get around, don't you? Shall we sit here?"</p> + +<p>They sat on triangular chairs at a three-cornered table. Bart waited for +Ringg to order, and ordered what he did. When it came, it was a sort of +egg-and-fish casserole which Bart found extremely tasty, and he dug into +it with pleasure. Allowing for the claws, Lhari table manners were not +so much different from human—<i>and remember, their customs differ as +much as ours do. If you do something differently, they'll just think +you're from another planet with a different culture.</i></p> + +<p>"Have you been here long?"</p> + +<p>"A day or so. I'm off the <i>Swiftwing</i>."</p> + +<p>Bart decided to hazard his luck. "I was told there's a vacancy on the +<i>Swiftwing</i>."</p> + +<p>Ringg looked at him curiously. "There is," he said, "but I'd like to +know how you found it out. Captain Vorongil said that anyone who talked +about it would be sent to Kleeto for three cycles. But what happened to +you? Miss your ship?"</p> + +<p>"No, I've just been laying off—traveling, sight-seeing, bumming +around," Bart said. "But I'm tired of it, and now I'd like to sign out +again."</p> + +<p>"Well, we could use another man. This is the long run we're making, out +to Antares and then home, and if everybody has to work extra shifts, +it's no fun. But if old Vorongil knows that there's been talk in the +port about Klanerol jumping ship, or whatever happened to him, we'll all +have to walk wide of his temper."</p> + +<p>Bart was beginning to relax a little; Ringg apparently accepted him +without scrutiny. At this close range Ringg did not seem a monster, but +just a young fellow like himself, hearty, good-natured—in fact, not +unlike Tommy.</p> + +<p>Bart chased the thought away as soon as it sneaked into his brain—one +of those <i>things</i>, like <i>Tommy</i>? Then, rather grimly, he reminded +himself, <i>I'm one of those things</i>. He said irritably, "So how do I +account for asking your captain for the place?"</p> + +<p>Ringg cocked his fluffy crest to one side. "I know," he said, "<i>I</i> told +you. I'll say you're an old friend of mine. You don't know what +Vorongil's like when he gets mad. But what he doesn't know, he won't +shout about." He shoved back the triangular chair. "Who <i>did</i> tell you, +anyway?"</p> + +<p>This was the first real hurdle, and Bart's brain raced desperately, but +Ringg was not listening for an answer. "I suppose somebody gossiped, or +one of those fool Mentorians picked it up. Got your papers? What +rating?"</p> + +<p>"Astrogator first class."</p> + +<p>"Klanerol was second, but you can't have everything, I suppose." Ringg +led the way through the arcades, out across a guarded sector, passing +half a dozen of the huge ships lying in their pits. Finally Ringg +stopped and pointed. "This is the old hulk."</p> + +<p>Bart had traveled only in Lhari passenger ships, which were new and +fresh and sleek. This ship was enormous, ovoid like the egg of some +space-monster, the sides dented and discolored, thin films of chemical +discoloration lying over the glassy metallic hull.</p> + +<p>Bart followed Ringg. This was real, it was happening. He was signing out +for his first interstellar cruise on one of the Lhari ships. Not a +Mentorian assistant, half-trusted, half-tolerated, but one of the crew +themselves. <i>If I'm lucky</i>, he reminded himself grimly.</p> + +<p>There was Lhari, in the black-banded officer's cloak, at the doorway. He +glanced at Ringg's papers.</p> + +<p>"Friend of mine," Ringg said, and Bart proffered his folder. The Lhari +gave it a casual glance, handed it back.</p> + +<p>"Old Baldy on board?" Ringg asked.</p> + +<p>"Where else?" The officer laughed. "You don't think <i>he'd</i> relax with +cargo not loaded, do you?"</p> + +<p>They seemed casual and normal, and Bart's confidence was growing. They +had accepted him as one of themselves. But the great ordeal still lay +before him—an interview with the Lhari captain. And the idea had Bart +sweating scared.</p> + +<p>The corridors and decks seemed larger, wider, more spacious, but +shabbier than on the clean, bright, commercial passenger decks Bart had +seen. Dark-lensed men were rolling bales of cargo along on wheeled +dollies. The corridors seemed endless. More to hear the sound of his own +voice, and reassure himself of his ability to speak and be understood, +than because he cared, he asked Ringg, "What's your rating?"</p> + +<p>"Well, according to the logbooks, I'm an Expert Class Two, +Metals-Fatigue," said Ringg. "That sounds very technical and +interesting. But what it means is just that I go all over the ship inch +by inch, and when I finish, start all over again at the other end. Most +of what I do is just boss around the maintenance crews and snarl at them +about spots of rust on the paint."</p> + +<p>They got into a small round elevator and Ringg punched buttons; it began +to rise, slowly and creakily, toward the top. "This, for instance," +Ringg said. "I've been yelling for a new cable for six months." He +turned. "Take it easy, Bartol; don't let Vorongil scare you. He likes to +hear the sound of his own voice, but we'd all walk out the lock without +spacesuits for him."</p> + +<p>The elevator slid to a stop. The sign in Lhari letters said <i>Level of +Administration—Officers' Deck</i>. Ringg pushed at a door and said, +"Captain Vorongil?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you were on leave," said a Lhari voice, deeper and slower +than most. "What are you doing, back here more than ten milliseconds +before strap-in checks?"</p> + +<p>Ringg stepped back for Bart to go inside. The small cabin, with an +elliptical bunk slung from the ceiling and a triangular table, was +dwarfed by a tall, thin Lhari, in a cloak with four of the black bands +that seemed to denote rank among them. He had a deeply lined face with a +lacework of tiny wrinkles around the slanted eyes. His crest was not the +high, fluffy white of a young Lhari, but broken short near the scalp, +grayish pink showing through, the little feathery ends yellowed with +age. He growled, "Come in then, don't stand there. I suppose Ringg's +told you what a tyrant I am? What do you want, feathertop?"</p> + +<p>Bart remembered being told that this was the Lhari equivalent of "Kid" +or "Youngster." He fumbled in the capacious folds of his cloak for his +papers. His voice sounded shrill, even to himself.</p> + +<p>"Bartol son of Berihun in respectful greeting, <i>rieko mori</i>." +("Honorable old-bald-one," the Lhari equivalent of "sir.") "Ringg told +me there is a vacancy among the Astrogators, and I want to sign out."</p> + +<p>Unmistakably, Vorongil's snort was laughter.</p> + +<p>"So you've been talking, Ringg?"</p> + +<p>Ringg retorted, "Better that I tell one man than that you have to hunt +the planet over—or run the long haul with the drive-room watches short +by one man."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, you're right," Vorongil growled. He glared at Bart. "On the +last planet, one of our men disappeared. Jumped ship!" The creases +around his eyes deepened, troubled. "Probably just gone on the drift, +sight-seeing, but I wish he'd told me. As it is, I wonder if he's been +hurt, killed, kidnaped."</p> + +<p>Ringg said, "Who'd dare? It would be reported."</p> + +<p>Bart knew, with a cold chill, that the missing Klanerol had not simply +gone "on the drift." No Lhari port would ever see Klanerol, Second Class +Astrogator, again.</p> + +<p>"Bartol," mused the captain, riffling the forged papers. "Served on the +Polaris run. Hm—you <i>are</i> a good long way off your orbit, aren't you? +Never been out that way myself. All right, I'll take you on. You can do +system programming? Good. Rating in Second Galaxy mathematics?"</p> + +<p>He nodded, hauled out a sheet of thin, wax-coated fabric and his claws +made rapid imprints in the surface. He passed it to Bart, pointed. Bart +hesitated, and Vorongil said impatiently, "Standard agreement, no hidden +clauses. Put your mark on it, feathertop."</p> + +<p>Bart realized it was something like a fingerprint they wanted. <i>You'll +pass anything but X-rays.</i> He pressed the top of one claw into the wax. +Vorongil nodded, shoved it on a shelf without looking at it.</p> + +<p>"So much for that," said Ringg, laughing, as they came out. "The Bald +One was in a good temper. I'm going to the port and celebrate, not that +this dim place is very festive. You?"</p> + +<p>"I—I think I'll stay aboard."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you change your mind, I'll be down there somewhere," Ringg +said. "See you later, shipmate." He raised his closed fist in farewell, +and went.</p> + +<p>Bart stood in the corridor, feeling astounded and strange. He <i>belonged</i> +here! He had a right to be on board the ship! He wasn't quite sure what +to do next.</p> + +<p>A Lhari, as short and fat as a Lhari could possibly be and still be a +Lhari, came or rather waddled out of the captain's office. He saw Bartol +and called, "Are you the new First Class? I'm Rugel, coordinator."</p> + +<p>Rugel had a huge cleft darkish scar across his lip, and there were two +bands on his cloak. He was completely bald, and he puffed when he +walked. "Vorongil asked me to show you around. You'll share quarters +with Ringg—no sense shifting another man. Come down and see the chart +rooms—or do you want to leave your kit in your cabin first?"</p> + +<p>"I don't have much," Bart said.</p> + +<p>Rugel's seamed lip widened. "That's the way—travel light when you're on +the drift," he confirmed.</p> + +<p>Rugel took him down to the drive rooms, and here for a moment, in wonder +and awe, Bart almost forgot his disguise. The old Lhari led him to the +huge computer which filled one wall of the room, and Bart was smitten +with the universality of mathematics. Here was something he <i>knew</i> he +could handle.</p> + +<p>He could do this programming, easily enough. But as he stood before the +banks of complex, yet beautifully familiar levers, the sheer exquisite +complexity of it overcame him. To compute the movements of thousands of +stars, all moving at different speeds in different directions in the +vast swirling directionless chaos of the Universe—and yet to be sure +that every separate movement would come out to within a quarter of a +mile! It was something that no finite brain—man or Lhari—could ever +accomplish, yet their limited brains had built these computers that +<i>could</i> do it.</p> + +<p>Rugel watched him, laughing softly. "Well, you'll have enough time down +here. I like to have youngsters who are still in the middle of a love +affair with their work. Come along, and I'll show you your cabin."</p> + +<p>Rugel left him in a cabin amidships; small and cramped, but tidy, two of +the oval bunks slung at opposite ends, a small table between them, and +drawers filled with pamphlets and manuals and maps. Furtively, ashamed +of himself, yet driven by necessity, Bart searched Ringg's belongings, +wanting to get some idea of what possessions he ought to own. He looked +around the shower and toilet facilities with extra care—this was +something he <i>couldn't</i> slip up on and be considered even halfway +normal. He was afraid Ringg would come in, and see him staring curiously +at something as ordinary, to a Lhari, as a cake of soap.</p> + +<p>He decided to go down to the port again and look around the shops. He +was not afraid of being unable to handle his work. What he feared was +something subtler—that the small items of everyday living, something as +simple as a nail file, would betray him.</p> + +<p>On his way he looked into the Recreation Lounge, filled with comfortable +seats, vision-screens, and what looked like simple pinball machines and +mechanical games of skill. There were also stacks of tapereels and +headsets for listening, not unlike those humans used. Bart felt +fascinated, and wanted to explore, but decided he could do that later.</p> + +<p>Somehow he took the wrong turn coming out of the Recreation Lounge, and +went through a door where the sudden dimming of lights told him he was +in Mentorian quarters. The sudden darkness made him stumble, thrust out +his hands to keep from falling, and an unmistakably human voice said, +"Ouch!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," Bart said in Universal, without thinking.</p> + +<p>"I admit the lights are dim," said the voice tartly, and Bart found +himself looking down, as his eyes adjusted to the new light level, at a +girl.</p> + +<p>She was small and slight, in a metallic blue cloak that swept out, like +wings, around her thin shoulders; the hood framed a small, kittenlike +face. She was a Mentorian, and she was human, and Bart's eyes rested +with comfort on her face; she, on the other hand, was looking up with +anxiety and uneasy distrust. <i>That's right—I'm a Lhari, a nonhuman +freak!</i></p> + +<p>"I seem to have missed my way."</p> + +<p>"What are you looking for, sir? The medical quarters are through here."</p> + +<p>"I'm looking for the elevator down to the crew exits."</p> + +<p>"Through here," she said, reopening the door through which he had come, +and shading her large, lovely, long-lashed eyes with a slender hand. +"You took the wrong turn. Are you new on board? I thought all ships were +laid out exactly alike."</p> + +<p>"I've only worked on passenger ships."</p> + +<p>"I believe they are somewhat different," said the girl in good Lhari. +"Well, that is your way, sir."</p> + +<p>He felt as if he had been snubbed and dismissed.</p> + +<p>"What is your name?"</p> + +<p>She stiffened as if about to salute. "Meta of the house of Marnay Three, +sir."</p> + +<p>Bart realized he was doing something wholly out of character for a +Lhari—chatting casually with a Mentorian. With a wistful glance at the +pretty girl, he said a stiff "Thank you" and went down the ramp she had +indicated. He felt horribly lonely. Being a freak wasn't going to be +much fun.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHT" id="CHAPTER_EIGHT"></a>CHAPTER EIGHT</h2> + + +<p>He saw the girl again next day, when they checked in for blastoff. She +was seated at a small desk, triangular like so much of the Lhari +furniture, checking a register as they came out of the Decontam room, +making sure they downed their greenish solution of microorganisms.</p> + +<p>"Papers, please?" She marked, and Bart noticed that she was using a red +pencil.</p> + +<p>"Bartol," she said aloud. "Is that how you pronounce it?" She made small +scribbles in a sort of shorthand with the red pencil, then made other +marks with the black one in Lhari; he supposed the red marks were her +own private memoranda, unreadable by the Lhari.</p> + +<p>"Next, please." She handed a cup of the greenish stuff to Ringg, behind +him. Bart went down toward the drive room, and to his own surprise, +found himself wishing the girl were a mathematician rather than a medic. +It would have been pleasant to watch her down there.</p> + +<p>Old Rugel, on duty in the drive room, watched Bart strap himself in +before the computer. "Make sure you check all dials at null," he +reminded him, and Bart felt a last surge of panic.</p> + +<p>This was his first cruise, except for practice runs at the Academy! Yet +his rating called him an experienced man on the Polaris run. He'd had +the Lhari training tape, which was supposed to condition his responses, +but would it? He tried to clench his fists, drove a claw into his palm, +winced, and commanded himself to stay calm and keep his mind on what he +was doing.</p> + +<p>It calmed him to make the routine check of his dials.</p> + +<p>"Strapdown check," said a Lhari with a yellowed crest and a rasping +voice. "New man, eh?" He gave Bart's straps perfunctory tugs at +shoulders and waist, tightened a buckle. "Karol son of Garin."</p> + +<p>Bells rang in the ship, and Bart felt the odd, tonic touch of fear. +<i>This was it.</i></p> + +<p>Vorongil strode through the door, his banded cloak sweeping behind him, +and took the control couch.</p> + +<p>"Ready from fueling room, sir."</p> + +<p>"Position," Vorongil snapped.</p> + +<p>Bart heard himself reading off a string of figures in Lhari. His voice +sounded perfectly calm.</p> + +<p>"Communication."</p> + +<p>"Clear channels from Pylon Dispatch, sir." It was old Rugel's voice.</p> + +<p>"Well," Vorongil said, slowly and almost reflectively, "let's take her +up then."</p> + +<p>He touched some controls. The humming grew. Then, swift, hard and +crushing, weight mashed Bart against his couch.</p> + +<p>"Position!" Vorongil's voice sounded harsh, and Bart fought the crushing +weight of it. Even his eyeballs ached as he struggled to turn the tiny +eye muscles from dial to dial, and his voice was a dim croak: "Fourteen +seven sidereal twelve point one one four nine...."</p> + +<p>"Hold it to point one one four six," Vorongil said calmly.</p> + +<p>"Point one one four six," Bart said, and his claws stabbed at dials. +Suddenly, in spite of the cold weight on his chest, the pain, the +struggle, he felt as if he were floating. He managed a long, luxurious +breath. He <i>could</i> handle it. He knew what he was doing.</p> + +<p><i>He was an Astrogator....</i></p> + +<p>Later, when Acceleration One had reached its apex and the artificial +gravity made the ship a place of comfort again, he went down to the +dining hall with Ringg and met the crew of the <i>Swiftwing</i>. There were +twelve officers and twelve crewmen of various ratings like himself and +Ringg, but there seemed to be little social division between them, as +there would have been on a human ship; officers and crew joked and +argued without formality of any kind.</p> + +<p>None of them gave him a second look. Later, in the Recreation Lounge, +Ringg challenged him to a game with one of the pinball machines. It +seemed fairly simple to Bart; he tried it, and to his own surprise, won.</p> + +<p>Old Rugel touched a lever at the side of the room. With a tiny whishing +sound, shutters opened, the light of Procyon Alpha flooded them and he +looked out through a great viewport into bottomless space.</p> + +<p>Procyon Alpha, Beta and Gamma hung at full, rings gently tilted. Beyond +them the stars burned, flaming through the shimmers of cosmic dust. The +colors, the never-ending colors of space!</p> + +<p>And he stood here, in a room full of monsters—<i>he was one of the +monsters</i>—</p> + +<p>"Which one of the planets was it we stopped on?" Rugel asked. "I can't +tell 'em apart from this distance."</p> + +<p>Bartol swallowed; he had almost said <i>the blue one</i>. He pointed. +"The—the big one there, with the rings almost edge-on. I think they +call it Alpha."</p> + +<p>"It's their planet," said Rugel. "I guess they can call it what they +want to. How about another game?"</p> + +<p>Resolutely, Bart turned his back on the bewitching colors, and bent over +the pinball machine.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The first week in space was a nightmare of strain. He welcomed the hours +on watch in the drive room; there alone he was sure of what he was +doing. Everywhere else in the ship he was perpetually scared, +perpetually on tiptoe, perpetually afraid of making some small and +stupid mistake. Once he actually called Aldebaran a red star, but Rugel +either did not hear the slip or thought he was repeating what one of the +Mentorians—there were two aboard besides the girl—had said.</p> + +<p>The absence of color from speech and life was the hardest thing to get +used to. Every star in the manual was listed by light-frequency waves, +to be checked against a photometer for a specific reading, and it almost +drove Bart mad to go through the ritual when the Mentorians were off +duty and could not call off the color and the equivalent frequency type +for him. Yet he did not dare skip a single step, or someone might have +guessed that he could <i>see</i> the difference between a yellow and a green +star before checking them.</p> + +<p>The Academy ships had had the traditional human signal system of +flashing red lights. Bart was stretched taut all the time, listening for +the small codelike buzzers and ticks that warned him of filled tanks, +leads in need of servicing, answers ready. Ringg's metal-fatigues +testing kit was a bewildering muddle of boxes, meters, rods and +earphones, each buzzing and clicking its characteristic warning.</p> + +<p>At first he felt stretched to capacity every waking moment, his memory +aching with a million details, and lay awake nights thinking his mind +would crack under the strain. Then Alpha faded to a dim bluish shimmer, +Beta was eclipsed, Gamma was gone, Procyon dimmed to a failing spark; +and suddenly Bart's memory accustomed itself to the load, the new habits +were firmly in place, and he found himself eating, sleeping and working +in a settled routine.</p> + +<p>He belonged to the <i>Swiftwing</i> now.</p> + +<p>Procyon was almost lost in the viewports when a sort of upswept tempo +began to run through the ship, an undercurrent of increased activity. +Cargo was checked, inventoried and strapped in. Ringg was given four +extra men to help him, made an extra tour of the ship, and came back +buzzing like a frantic cricket. Bart's computers told him they were +forging toward the sidereal location assigned for the first of the +warp-drive shifts, which would take them some fifteen light-years toward +Aldebaran.</p> + +<p>On the final watch before the warp-drive shift, the medical officer came +around and relieved the Mentorians from duty. Bart watched them go, with +a curious, cold, crawling apprehension. Even the Mentorians, trusted by +the Lhari—even these were put into cold-sleep! Fear grabbed his +insides.</p> + +<p><i>No human had ever survived the shift into warp-drive</i>, the Lhari said. +Briscoe, his father, Raynor Three—they thought they had proved that the +Lhari lied. If they were right, if it was a Lhari trick to reinforce +their stranglehold on the human worlds and keep the warp-drive for +themselves, then Bart had nothing to fear. But he was afraid.</p> + +<p>Why did the Mentorians endure this, never quite trusted, isolated among +aliens?</p> + +<p>Raynor Three had said, <i>Because I belong in space, because I'm never +happy anywhere else</i>. Bart looked out the viewport at the swirl and burn +of the colors there. Now that he could never speak of the colors, it +seemed he had never been so wholly and wistfully aware of them. They +symbolized the thing he could never put into words.</p> + +<p><i>So that everyone can have this. Not just the Lhari.</i></p> + +<p>Rugel watched the Mentorians go, scowling. "I wish medic would find a +way to keep them alive through warp," he said. "My Mentorian assistant +could watch that frequency-shift as we got near the bottom of the arc, +and I'll bet she could <i>see</i> it. They can see the changes in intensity +faster than I can plot them on the photometer!"</p> + +<p>Bart felt goosebumps break out on his skin. Rugel spoke as if the +certain death of humans, Mentorians, was a fact. Didn't the Lhari +themselves know it was a farce? <i>Or was it?</i></p> + +<p>Vorongil himself took the controls for the surge of Acceleration Two, +which would take them past the Light Barrier. Bart, watching his +instruments to exact position and time, saw the colors of each star +shift strangely, moment by moment. The red stars seemed hard to see. The +orange-yellow ones burned suddenly like flame; the green ones seemed +golden, the blue ones almost green. Dimly, he remembered the old story +of a "red shift" in the lights of approaching stars, but here he saw it +pure, a sight no human eyes had ever seen. A sight that <i>no</i> eyes had +seen, human or otherwise, for the Lhari could not see it....</p> + +<p>"Time," he said briefly to Vorongil, "Fifteen seconds...."</p> + +<p>Rugel looked across from his couch. Bart felt that the old, scarred +Lhari could read his fear. Rugel said through a wheeze, "No matter how +old you get, Bartol, you're still scared when you make a warp-shift. But +relax, computers don't make mistakes."</p> + +<p>"Catalyst," Vorongil snapped, "Ready—<i>shift!</i>"</p> + +<p>At first there was no change; then Bart realized that the stars, through +the viewport, had altered abruptly in size and shade and color. They +were not sparks but strange streaks, like comets, crossing and +recrossing long tails that grew, longer and longer, moment by moment. +The dark night of space was filled with a crisscrossing blaze. They were +moving faster than light, they saw the light left by the moving Universe +as each star hurled in its own invisible orbit, while they tore +incredibly through it, faster than light itself....</p> + +<p>Bart felt a curious, tingling discomfort, deep in his flesh; almost an +itching, a stinging in his very bones.</p> + +<p><i>Lhari flesh is no different from ours....</i></p> + +<p>Space, through the viewport, was no longer space as he had come to know +it, but a strange eerie limbo, the star-tracks lengthening, shifting +color until they filled the whole viewport with shimmering, gray, +recrossing light. The unbelievable reaction of warp-drive thrust them +through space faster than the lights of the surrounding stars, faster +than imagination could follow.</p> + +<p>The lights in the drive chamber began to dim—or was he blacking out? +The stinging in his flesh was a clawed pain.</p> + +<p>Briscoe lived through it....</p> + +<p><i>They say.</i></p> + +<p>The whirling star-tracks fogged, coiled, turned colorless worms of +light, went into a single vast blur. Dimly Bart saw old Rugel slump +forward, moaning softly; saw the old Lhari pillow his bald head on his +veined arms. Then darkness took him; and thinking it was death, Bart +felt only numb, regretful failure. <i>I've failed, we'll always fail. The +Lhari were right all long.</i></p> + +<p><i>But we tried! By God, we tried!</i></p> + +<p>"Bartol?" A gentle hand, cat claws retracted, came down on his shoulder. +Ringg bent over him. Good-natured rebuke was in his voice. "Why didn't +you tell us you got a bad reaction, and ask to sign out for this shift?" +he demanded. "Look, poor old Rugel's passed out again. He just won't +admit he can't take it—but one idiot on a watch is enough! Some people +just feel as if the bottom's dropped out of the ship, and that's all +there is to it."</p> + +<p>Bart hauled his head upright, fighting a surge of stinging nausea. His +bones itched inside and he was damnably uncomfortable, but he was alive.</p> + +<p>"I'm—fine."</p> + +<p>"You look it," Ringg said in derision. "Think you can help me get Rugel +to his cabin?"</p> + +<p>Bart struggled to his feet, and found that when he was upright he felt +better. "Wow!" he muttered, then clamped his mouth shut. He was supposed +to be an experienced man, a Lhari hardened to space. He said woozily, +"How long was I out?"</p> + +<p>"The usual time," Ringg said briskly, "about three seconds—just while +we hit peak warp-drive. Feels longer, so they tell me, sometimes—time's +funny, beyond light-speeds. The medic says it's purely psychological. +I'm not so sure. I <i>itch</i>, blast it!"</p> + +<p>He moved his shoulders in a squirming way, then bent over Rugel, who was +moaning, half insensible. "Catch hold of his feet, Bartol. Here—ease +him out of his chair. No sense bothering the medics this time. Think you +can manage to help me carry him down to the deck?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," Bart said, finding his feet and his voice. He felt better as +they moved along the hallway, the limp, muttering form of the old Lhari +insensible in their arms. They reached the officer's deck, got Rugel +into his cabin and into his bunk, hauled off his cloak and boots. Ringg +stood shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"And they say Captain Vorongil's so tough!"</p> + +<p>Bart made a questioning noise.</p> + +<p>"Why, just look," said Ringg. "He knows it would make poor old Rugel +feel as if he wasn't good for much—to order him into his bunk and make +him take dope like a Mentorian for every warp-shift. So we have this to +go through at every jump!" He sounded cross and disgusted, but there was +a rough, boyish gentleness as he hauled the blanket over the bald old +Lhari. He looked up, almost shyly.</p> + +<p>"Thanks for helping me with Old Baldy. We usually try to get him out +before Vorongil officially takes notice. Of course, he sort of keeps his +back turned," Ringg said, and they laughed together as they turned back +to the drive room. Bart found himself thinking, <i>Ringg's a good kid</i>, +before he pulled himself up, in sudden shock.</p> + +<p>He <i>had</i> lived through warp-drive! Then, indeed, the Lhari had been +lying all along, the vicious lie that maintained their stranglehold +monopoly of star-travel. He was their enemy again, the spy within their +gates, like Briscoe, to be hunted down and killed, but to bring the +message, loud and clear, to everyone: <i>The Lhari lied! The stars can +belong to us all!</i></p> + +<p>When he got back to the drive room, he saw through the viewport that the +blur had vanished, the star-trails were clear, distinct again, their +comet-tails shortening by the moment, their colors more distinct.</p> + +<p>The Lhari were waiting, a few poised over their instruments, a few more +standing at the quartz window watching the star-trails, some squirming +and scratching and grousing about "space fleas"—the characteristic +itching reaction that seemed to be deep down inside the bones.</p> + +<p>Bart checked his panels, noted the time when they were due to snap back +into normal space, and went to stand by the viewport. The stars were +reappearing, seeming to steady and blaze out in cloudy splendor through +the bright dust. They burned in great streamers of flame, and for the +moment he forgot his mission again, lost in the beauty of the fiery +lights. He drew a deep, shaking gasp. It was worth it all, to see this! +He turned and saw Ringg, silent, at his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Me, too," Ringg said, almost in a whisper. "I think every man on board +feels that way, a little, only he won't admit it." His slanted gray eyes +looked quickly at Bart and away.</p> + +<p>"I guess we're almost down to L-point. Better check the panel and report +nulls, so medic can wake up the Mentorians."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The <i>Swiftwing</i> moved on between the stars. Aldebaran loomed, then faded +in the viewports; another shift jumped them to a star whose human name +Bart did not know. Shift followed shift, spaceport followed spaceport, +sun followed sun; men lived on most of these worlds, and on each of them +a Lhari spaceport rose, alien and arrogant. And on each world men looked +at Lhari with resentful eyes, cursing the race who kept the stars for +their own.</p> + +<p>Cargo amassed in the holds of the <i>Swiftwing</i>, from worlds beyond all +dreams of strangeness. Bart grew, not bored, but hardened to the +incredible. For days at a time, no word of human speech crossed his +mind.</p> + +<p>The blackout at peak of each warp-shift persisted. Vorongil had given +him permission to report off duty, but since the blackouts did not +impair his efficiency, Bart had refused. Rugel told him that this was +the moment of equilibrium, the peak of the faster-than-light motion.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps a true limiting speed beyond which nothing will ever go," +Vorongil said, touching the charts with a varnished claw. Rugel's +scarred old mouth spread in a thin smile.</p> + +<p>"Maybe there's no such thing as a limiting speed. Someday we'll reach +true simultaneity—enter warp, and come out just where we want to be, at +the same time. Just a split-second interval. That will be real +transmission."</p> + +<p>Ringg scoffed, "And suppose you get even better—and come out of warp +<i>before</i> you go into it? What then, Honorable Bald One?"</p> + +<p>Rugel chuckled, and did not answer. Bart turned away. It was not easy to +keep on hating the Lhari.</p> + +<p>There came a day when he came on watch to see drawn, worried faces; and +when Ringg came into the drive room they threw their levers on +<i>automatic</i> and crowded around him, their crests bobbing in question and +dismay. Vorongil seemed to emit sparks as he barked at Ringg, "You found +it?"</p> + +<p>"I found it. Inside the hull lining."</p> + +<p>Vorongil swore, and Ringg held up a hand in protest. "I only <i>locate</i> +metals fatigue, sir—I don't <i>make</i> it!"</p> + +<p>"No help for it then," Vorongil said. "We'll have to put down for +repairs. How much time do we have, Ringg?"</p> + +<p>"I give it thirty hours," Ringg said briefly, and Vorongil gave a long +shrill whistle. "Bartol, what's the closest listed spaceport?"</p> + +<p>Bart dived for handbooks, manuals, comparative tables of position, and +started programming information. The crew drifted toward him, and by the +time he finished feeding in the coded information, a row three-deep of +Lhari surrounded him, including all the officers. Vorongil was right at +his shoulder when Bart slipped on his earphones and started decoding the +punched strips that fed out the answers from the computer.</p> + +<p>"Nearest port is Cottman Four. It's almost exactly thirty hours away."</p> + +<p>"I don't like to run it that close." Vorongil's face was bitten deep +with lines. He turned to Ramillis, head of Maintenance. "Do we need +spare parts? Or just general repairs?"</p> + +<p>"Just repairs, sir. We have plenty of shielding metal. It's a long job +to get through the hulls, but there's nothing we can't fix."</p> + +<p>Vorongil flexed his clawed hands nervously, stretching and retracting +them. "Ringg, you're the fatigue expert. I'll take your word for it. Can +we make thirty hours?"</p> + +<p>Ringg looked pale and there was none of his usual boyish nonsense when +he said, "Captain, I swear I wouldn't risk Cottman. You know what +crystallization's like, sir. We can't get through that hull lining to +repair it in space, if it <i>does</i> go before we land. We wouldn't have the +chance of a hydrogen atom in a tank of halogens."</p> + +<p>Vorongil's slanted eyebrows made a single unbroken line. "That's the +word then. Bartol, find us the closest star with a planet—spaceport or +not."</p> + +<p>Bart's hands were shaking with sudden fear. He checked each digit of +their present position, fed it into the computer, waited, finally wet +his lips and plunged, taking the strip from a computer.</p> + +<p>"This small star, called Meristem. It's a—" he bit his lip, hard; he +had almost said <i>green</i>—"type Q, two planets with atmosphere within +tolerable limits, not classified as inhabited."</p> + +<p>"Who owns it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't have that information on the banks, sir."</p> + +<p>Vorongil beckoned the Mentorian assistant. So apart were Lhari and +Mentorian on these ships that Bart did not even know his name. He said, +"Look up a star called Meristem for us." The Mentorian hurried away, +came back after a moment with the information that it belonged to the +Second Galaxy Federation, but was listed as unexplored.</p> + +<p>Vorongil scowled. "Well, we can claim necessity," he said. "It's only +eight hours away, and Cottman's thirty. Bartol, plot us a warp-drive +shift that will land us in that system, and on the inner of the two +planets, within nine hours. If it's a type Q star, that means dim +illumination, and no spaceport mercury-vapor installations. We'll need +as much sunlight as we can get."</p> + +<p>It was the first time that Bart, unaided, had had the responsibility of +plotting a warp-drive shift. He checked the coordinates of the small +green star three times before passing them along to Vorongil. Even so, +when they went into Acceleration Two, he felt stinging fear. <i>If I +plotted wrong, we could shift into that crazy space and come out +billions of miles away....</i></p> + +<p>But when the stars steadied and took on their own colors, the blaze of a +small green sun was steady in the viewport.</p> + +<p>"Meristem," Vorongil said, taking the controls himself. "Let's hope the +place is really uninhabited and that catalogue's up to date, lads. It +wouldn't be any fun to burn up some harmless village, or get shot at by +barbarians—and we're setting down with no control-tower signals and no +spaceport repair crews. So let's hope our luck holds out for a while +yet."</p> + +<p>Bart, feeling the minute, unsteady trembling somewhere in the +ship—<i>Imagination</i>, he told himself, <i>you can't feel metal-fatigue +somewhere in the hull lining</i>—echoed the wish. He did not know that he +had already had the best luck of his unique voyage, or realize the +fantastic luck that had brought him to the small green star Meristem.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINE" id="CHAPTER_NINE"></a>CHAPTER NINE</h2> + + +<p>The crews of repairmen were working down in the hull, and the +<i>Swiftwing</i> was a hell of clanging noise and shuddering heat. +Maintenance was working overtime, but the rest of the crew, with nothing +to do, stood around in the recreation rooms, tried to play games, cursed +the heat and the dreary dimness through the viewports, and twitched at +the boiler-factory racket from the holds.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of the third day, the biologist reported air, water and +gravity well within tolerable limits, and Captain Vorongil issued +permission for anyone who liked, to go outside and have a look around.</p> + +<p>Bart had a sort of ship-induced claustrophobia. It was good to feel +solid ground under his feet and the rays of a sun, even a green sun, on +his back. Even more, it was good to get away from the constant presence +of his shipmates. During this enforced idleness, their presence +oppressed him unendurably—so many tall forms, gray skins, feathery +crests. He was always alone; for a change, he felt that he'd like to be +alone without Lhari all around him.</p> + +<p>But as he moved away from the ship, Ringg dropped out of the hatchway +and hailed him. "Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"Just for a walk."</p> + +<p>Ringg drew a deep breath of weariness. "That sounds good. Mind if I come +along?"</p> + +<p>Bart did, but all he could say was, "If you like."</p> + +<p>"How about let's get some food from the rations clerk, and do some +exploring?"</p> + +<p>The sun overhead was a clear greenish-gold, the sky strewn with soft +pale clouds that cast racing shadows on the soft grass underfoot, +fragrant pinkish-yellow stuff strewn with bright vermilion puff-balls. +Bart wished he were alone to enjoy it.</p> + +<p>"How are the repairs coming?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty well. But Karol got his hand half scorched off, poor fellow. +Just luck the same thing didn't happen to me." Ringg added. "You know +that Mentorian—the young one, the medic's assistant?"</p> + +<p>"I've seen her. Her name's Meta, I think." Suddenly, Bart wished the +Mentorian girl were with him here. It would be nice to hear a human +voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, is it a female? Mentorians all look alike to me," Ringg said, while +Bart controlled his face with an effort. "Be that as it may, she saved +me from having the same thing happen. I was just going to lean against a +strip of sheet metal when she <i>screamed</i> at me. Do you think they can +really <i>see</i> heat vibrations? She called it <i>red</i>-hot."</p> + +<p>They had reached a line of tall cliffs, where a steep rock-fall divided +off the plain from the edge of the mountains. A few slender, drooping, +gold-leaved trees bent graceful branches over a pool. Bart stood +fascinated by the play of green sunlight on the emerald ripples, but +Ringg flung himself down full length on the soft grass and sighed +comfortably. "Feels good."</p> + +<p>"Too comfortable to eat?"</p> + +<p>They munched in companionable silence. "Look," said Ringg at last, +pointing toward the cliffs, "Holes in the rocks. Caves. I'd like to +explore them, wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"They look pretty gloomy to me. Probably full of monsters."</p> + +<p>Ringg patted the hilt of his energon-ray. "This will handle anything +short of an armor-plated saurian."</p> + +<p>Bart shuddered. As part of uniform, he, too, had been issued one of the +energon-rays; but he had never used it and didn't intend to. "Just the +same, I'd rather stay out here in the sun."</p> + +<p>"It's better than vitamin lamps," Ringg admitted, "even if it's not very +bright."</p> + +<p>Bart wondered, suddenly and worriedly, about the effects of green +sunburn on his chemically altered skin tone.</p> + +<p>"Well, let's enjoy it while we can," Ringg said, "because it seems to be +clouding over. I wouldn't be surprised if it rained." He yawned. "I'm +getting bored with this voyage. And yet I don't want it to end, because +then I'll have to fight it out all over again with my family. My father +owns a hotel, and he wants me in the family business, not five hundred +light-years away. None of our family have ever been spacemen before," he +explained, "and they don't understand that living on one planet would +drive me out of my mind." He sighed. "How did you explain it to your +people—that you couldn't be happy in the mud? Or are you a career man?"</p> + +<p>"I guess so. I never thought about doing anything else," Bart said +slowly, Ringg's story had touched him; he had never realized quite so +fully how much alike the two races were, how human the Lhari problems +and dreams could seem. <i>Why, of course, the Lhari aren't all spacemen. +They have hotel keepers and garbage men and dentists just as we do. +Funny, you never think of them except in space.</i></p> + +<p>"My mother died when I was very young," Bart said, choosing his words +very carefully. "My father owned a fleet of interplanetary ships."</p> + +<p>"But you wanted the real thing, deep space, the stars," Ringg said. "How +did he feel about that?"</p> + +<p>"He would have understood," Bart said, unable to keep emotion out of his +voice, "but he's dead now. He died, not long ago."</p> + +<p>Ringg's eyes were bright with sympathy. "While you were off on the +drift? Bad luck," he said gently. He was silent, and when he spoke again +it was in a very different tone.</p> + +<p>"But some of the older generation—I had a professor in training school, +funny old chap, bald as the hull of the <i>Swiftwing</i>. Taught us +cosmic-ray analysis, and what he didn't know about spiral nebulae could +be engraved on my fifth toe-claw, and he'd never been off the face of +the planet. Not even to one of the moons! He was the supervisor of my +student lodge, and oh, was he a—" The phrase Ringg used meant, +literally, <i>a soft piece of cake</i>.</p> + +<p>"His feet may have been buried in mud, but his head was off in the Great +Nebula. We had some wild times," Ringg reminisced. "We'd slip away to +the city—strictly against rules, it was an old-style school—and draw +lots for one of us to stay home and sign in for all twelve. You see, +he'd sit there reading, and when one of us came in, just shove the wax +at us, with his nose in a text on cosmic dust, never looking up. So the +one who stayed home would scrawl a name on it, walk out the back door, +come around and sign in again. When there were twelve signed in, of +course, the old chap would go up to bed, and late that night the one who +stayed in would sneak down and let us in."</p> + +<p>Ringg sat up suddenly, touching his cheek. "Was that a drop of rain? And +the sun's gone. I suppose we ought to start back, though I hate to leave +those caves unexplored."</p> + +<p>Bart bent to gather up the debris of their meal. He flinched as +something hard struck his arm. "Ouch! What was that?"</p> + +<p>Ringg cried out in pain. "It's hail!"</p> + +<p>Sharp pieces of ice were suddenly pelting, raining down all around them, +splattering the ground with a harsh, bouncing clatter. Ringg yelled, +"Come on—it's big enough to <i>flatten</i> you!"</p> + +<p>It looked to Bart as if it were at least golf-ball size, and seemed to +be getting bigger by the moment. Lightning flashed around them in sudden +glare. They ducked their heads and ran.</p> + +<p>"Get in under the lee of the cliffs. We couldn't possibly make it back +to the <i>Swift</i>—" Ringg's voice broke off in a cry of pain; he slumped +forward, pitched to his knees, then slid down and lay still.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Bart, arm curved to protect his skull, bent over +the fallen Lhari, but Ringg, his forehead bleeding, lay insensible. Bart +felt sharp pain in his arm, felt the hail hard as thrown stones raining +on his head. Ringg was out cold. <i>If they stayed in this</i>, Bart thought +despairingly, <i>they'd both be dead!</i></p> + +<p>Crouching, trying to duck his head between his shoulders, Bart got his +arms under Ringg's armpits and half-carried, half-dragged him under the +lee of the cliffs. He slipped and slid on the thickening layer of ice +underfoot, lost his footing, and came down, hard, one arm twisted +between himself and the cliff. He cried out in pain, uncontrollably, and +let Ringg slip from his grasp. The Lhari boy lay like the dead.</p> + +<p>Bart bent over him, breathing hard, trying to get his breath back. The +hail was still pelting down, showing no signs of lessening. About five +feet away, one of the dark gaps in the cliff showed wide and menacing, +but at least, Bart thought, the hail couldn't come in there. He stooped +and got hold of Ringg again. A pain like fire went through the wrist he +had smashed against the rock. He set his teeth, wondering if it had +broken. The effort made him see stars, but he managed somehow to hoist +Ringg up again and haul him through the pelting hail toward the yawning +gap. It darkened around them, and, blessedly, the battering, bruising +hail could not reach them. Only an occasional light splinter of ice blew +with the bitter wind into the mouth of the cave.</p> + +<p>Bart laid Ringg down on the floor, under the shelter of the rock +ceiling. He knelt beside him, and spoke his name, but Ringg just moaned. +His forehead was covered with blood.</p> + +<p>Bart took one of the paper napkins from the lunch sack and carefully +wiped some of it away. His stomach turned at the deep, ugly cut, which +immediately started oozing fresh blood. He pressed the edges of the cut +together with the napkin, wondering helplessly how much blood Ringg +could lose without danger, and if he had concussion. If he tried to go +back to the ship and fetch the medic for Ringg, he'd be struck by hail +himself. From where he stood, it seemed that the hailstones were getting +bigger by the minute.</p> + +<p>Ringg moaned, but when Bart knelt beside him again he did not answer. +Bart could hear only the rushing of wind, the noise of the splattering +hail and a sound of water somewhere—<i>or was that a rustle of scales, a +dragging of strange feet?</i> He looked through the darkness into the +depths of the cave, his hand on his shock-beam. He was afraid to turn +his back on it.</p> + +<p><i>This is nonsense,</i> he told himself firmly, <i>I'll just walk back there +and see what there is.</i></p> + +<p>At his belt he had the small flashlamp, excessively bright, that was, +like the energon-beam shocker, a part of regulation equipment. He took +it out, shining it on the back wall of the cave; then drew a long breath +of startlement and for a moment forgot Ringg and his own pain.</p> + +<p>For the back wall of the cave was an exquisite fall of crystal! Minerals +glowed there, giant crystals, like jewels, crusted with strange +lichen-like growths and colors. There were pale blues and greens and, +shimmering among them, a strangely colored crystalline mineral that he +had never seen before. It was blue—<i>No</i>, Bart thought, <i>that's just the +light, it's more like red—no, it can't be like</i> both <i>of them at once, +and it isn't really like either. In this light—</i></p> + +<p>Ringg moaned, and Bart, glancing round, saw that he was struggling to +sit up. He ran back to him, dropping to his knees at Ringg's side. "It's +all right, Ringg, lie still. We're under cover now."</p> + +<p>"Wha' happened?" Ringg said blurrily. "Head hurts—all sparks—all the +pretty lights—can't <i>see</i> you!" He fumbled with loose, uncoordinated +fingers at his head and Bart grabbed at him before he poked a claw in +his eye. "Don't <i>do</i> that," Ringg complained, "can't <i>see</i>—"</p> + +<p><i>He must have a bad concussion then. That's a nasty cut.</i> Gently, he +restrained the Lhari boy's hands.</p> + +<p>"Bartol, what happened?"</p> + +<p>Bart explained. Ringg tried to move, but fell limply back.</p> + +<p>"Weren't you hurt? I thought I heard you cry out."</p> + +<p>"A cut or two, but nothing serious," Bart said. "I think the hail's +stopped. Lie still, I'd better go back to the ship and get help."</p> + +<p>"Give me a hand and I can walk," Ringg said, but when he tried to sit +up, he flinched, and Bart said, "You'd better lie still." He knew that +head injuries should be kept very quiet; he was almost afraid to leave +Ringg for fear the Lhari boy would have another delirious fit and hurt +himself, but there was no help for it.</p> + +<p>The hail had stopped, and the piled heaps were already melting, but it +was bitterly cold. Bart wrapped himself in the silvery cloak, glad of +its warmth, and struggled back across the slushy, ice-strewn meadow that +had been so pink and flowery in the sunshine. The <i>Swiftwing</i>, a +monstrous dark egg looming in the twilight, seemed like home. Bart felt +the heavenly warmth close around him with a sigh of pure relief, but the +Second Officer, coming up the hatchway, stopped in consternation:</p> + +<p>"You're covered with blood! The hailstorm—"</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," Bart said, "but Ringg's been hurt. You'll need a +stretcher." Quickly, he explained. "I'll come with you and show you—"</p> + +<p>"You'll do no such thing," the officer said. "You look as if you'd been +caught out in a meteor shower, feathertop! We can find the place. You go +and have those cuts attended to, and—what's wrong with your wrist? +Broken?"</p> + +<p>Bart heard, like an echo, the frightening words: <i>Don't break any bones. +You won't pass an X-ray.</i></p> + +<p>"It's all right, sir. When I get washed up—"</p> + +<p>"That's an <i>order</i>," snapped the officer, "do you think, on this +pestilential unlucky planet, we can afford any <i>more</i> bad luck? Metals +fatigue, Karol burned so badly the medic thinks he may never use his +hand again, and now you and Ringg getting yourselves laid up and out of +action? The medic will help me with Ringg; that Mentorian girl can look +after you. Get moving!"</p> + +<p>He hurried away, and Bart, his head beginning to hurt, walked slowly up +the ramp. His whole arm felt numb, and he supported it with his good +hand.</p> + +<p>In the small infirmary, Karol lay groaning in a bunk, his arm bound in +bandages, his head moving from side to side. The Mentorian girl Meta +turned, charging a hypo. She looked pale and drawn. She went to Karol, +uncovering his other arm, and made the injection; almost immediately the +moaning stopped and Karol lay still. Meta sighed and drew a hand over +her brow, brushing away feathery wisps that escaped from the cap tied +over her hair.</p> + +<p>"Bartol? You're hurt? Not more burns, I hope?"</p> + +<p><i>She looks just like a fluffy little kitten</i>, Bart thought +incongruously. Fatigue was beginning to blur his reactions.</p> + +<p>"Only a few cuts," he said, in Universal, though Meta had spoken Lhari. +In his weariness and pain he was homesick for the sound of a familiar +word. "Ringg and I were both caught in the hailstorm. He's badly hurt."</p> + +<p>"Sit down here."</p> + +<p>Bart sat. Meta's hands were skillful and cool as she sponged the blood +away from his forehead and sprayed it with some pleasantly cold, +mint-smelling antiseptic. Bart leaned back, tireder than he knew, +half-closing his eyes.</p> + +<p>"That hail must have been enormous; we heard it through the hull. +Whatever possessed you to go out into it?"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't hailing when we left," Bart said wearily. "The sun was as +nice and green as it could be." He bit the words off, realizing he had +made a slip, but the girl seemed not to hear, fastening a strip of +plastic over a cut. She picked up his wrist. Bart flinched in spite of +himself, and Meta nodded. "I was afraid of that; it may be broken. +Better let me X-ray it."</p> + +<p>"No!" Bart said harshly. "It's all right, I just twisted it. Nothing's +broken. Just strap it up."</p> + +<p>"It's pretty badly swollen," the girl said, moving it gently. "Does that +hurt? I thought so."</p> + +<p>Bart set his teeth against a cry. "It's all right, I tell you. Just +because it's black and blue—"</p> + +<p>He heard her breath jolt out, her fingers clenched painfully on his +wounded wrist. She did not hear his cry this time. "And the sun was nice +and <i>green</i>," she whispered. <i>"What are you?"</i></p> + +<p>Bart felt himself slip sidewise; he thought for a moment that he would +faint where he sat. Terrified, he looked up at Meta. Their eyes met, and +she said, hardly moving her pale lips, "Your eyes—they're like mine. +Your eyelashes—dark, not white. <i>You're not a Lhari!</i>"</p> + +<p>The pain in his wrist suddenly blurred everything else, but Meta +suddenly realized she was gripping it; she gave a little, gentle cry, +and cradled the abused wrist in her palm.</p> + +<p>"No wonder you didn't want it X-rayed," she whispered. Biting her lip, +she glanced, terrified, at Karol, unconscious in the bunk. "No, he can't +hear us; I gave him a heavy shot of hypnin, poor fellow."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," Bart said bitterly, "yell for your keepers."</p> + +<p>Her gray eyes blazed at him for a moment; then, gently, she laid his +wrist on the table, went to the infirmary door and locked it on the +inside. She turned around, her face white; even her lips had lost their +color. "Who are you?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Does it matter now?"</p> + +<p>Shocked comprehension swept over her face. "You don't think I'd <i>tell</i> +them," she whispered. "I heard talk, in the Procyon port, of a spy that +had managed to get through on a Lhari ship." Her face twisted. "You—you +must know about the man on the <i>Multiphase</i>, you know they'll—make sure +I can't—hide anything dangerous to the Lhari at the end of the voyage."</p> + +<p>"Meta—" concern for her swept over him—"what will they do to you when +they find out that you know and—didn't tell?"</p> + +<p>Her gray eyes were wide as a kitten's. "Why, nothing. The Lhari would +never <i>hurt</i> anyone, would they?"</p> + +<p>Brainwashed? He set his mouth grimly. "I hope you never find out +different."</p> + +<p>"Why would they need to?" she asked, reasonably. "They could just erase +the memory. I never heard of a Lhari actually hurting anyone. But +something like this—" She wavered, looking at him. "You look so <i>much</i> +like a Lhari! How was it done? How could they do it? Poor fellow, you +must be the—the loneliest man in the Universe!"</p> + +<p>Her voice was compassionate. Bart felt his throat tighten, and had the +awful feeling that he was going to cry. He reached with his good hand +for hers, seeking the comfort of a human touch, but she flinched +instinctively away.</p> + +<p><i>He was a monster to this pretty girl....</i></p> + +<p>"It looks so real," she said helplessly. "Yes, now I can see, you have +tiny moons at the base of the nail, and the Lhari don't." Her face +worked. "It's—it's horrifying! How could you—"</p> + +<p>There was a noise in the corridor. Meta gasped and ran to unlock the +door, stood back as the medic and the Second Officer came in, staggering +under Ringg's weight. Carefully, they put him into a bunk. The medic +straightened, shaking his crest.</p> + +<p>"Did you get that wrist taken care of, Bartol?"</p> + +<p>Meta stepped between Bart and the officer, reaching for a roll of +bandage. "I'm working on it now, <i>rieko mori</i>," she said. "It only wants +strapping up." But her fingers trembled as she wound the gauze, pulling +each fold tight.</p> + +<p>"How's—Ringg?"</p> + +<p>"Needs quiet," grunted the medic, "and a few sutures. Lucky you got him +under cover when you did."</p> + +<p>Ringg said weakly from his bunk, "Bartol saved my life. I can think of +plenty who'd have run for cover, instead of staying out in that stuff +long enough to drag me inside. Thanks, shipmate."</p> + +<p>Meta's hand, with a swift hard pressure, lingered on Bart's shoulder as +she cut the bandage and fastened the end. "I don't think that will +bother you much now," she whispered, fleetingly. "I didn't dare say it +was broken or they'd insist on X-rays. If it hurts I'll get you +something later for the pain. If you keep it strapped up tight—"</p> + +<p>"It will do," Bart said aloud. The tight bandage made it feel a little +better, but he felt sick and dizzy, and when the medic turned and saw +him, the officer said brusquely "Watch off for you, Bartol. I'll fix the +sign-out sheet, but you go to your cabin and get yourself at least four +hours of sleep. <i>That's an order.</i>"</p> + +<p>Bart stumbled out of the cabin with relief. Safe in his own quarters, he +flung himself down on his bunk, shaking all over. He'd come safely +through one more nightmare, one more terror—for the moment! Had he put +Meta in danger, too? Was there no end to this ceaseless fear? Not only +for himself, but for others, the innocent bystanders who stumbled into +plots they did not understand?</p> + +<p><i>You're doing this for the stars. It's bigger than your fear. It's +bigger than you are, or any of the others....</i></p> + +<p>He was beginning to think it was a lot too big for him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TEN" id="CHAPTER_TEN"></a>CHAPTER TEN</h2> + + +<p>The green-sun Meristem lay far behind them. Karol's burns had healed; +only a faint pattern on Ringg's forehead showed where six stitches had +closed the ugly wound in his skull. Bart's wrist, after a few days of +nightmarish pain when he tried to pick up anything heavy, had healed. +Two more warp-drive shifts through space had taken the <i>Swiftwing</i> far, +far out to the rim of the known galaxy, and now the great crimson coal +of Antares burned in their viewports.</p> + +<p>Antares had twelve planets, the outermost of which—far away now, at the +furthest point in its orbit from the point of the <i>Swiftwing</i>'s entry +into the system—was a small captive sun. No larger than the planet +Earth, it revolved every ninety years around its huge primary.</p> + +<p>Small as it was, it was blazingly blue-white brilliant, and had a tiny +planet of its own. After their stop on Antares Seven—the largest of the +inhabited planets in this system, where the Lhari spaceport was +located—they would make a careful orbit around the great red primary, +and land on the tiny worldlet of the blue-white secondary before leaving +the Antares system.</p> + +<p>As Bart watched Antares growing in the viewports, he felt a variety of +emotions. On the one hand, he was relieved that as his voyage in secrecy +neared its official destination, he had as yet not incurred unmasking.</p> + +<p>But he felt uncertain about his father's co-conspirators. Would they +return him to human form and send him back to Vega, his part ended? Or +would they, unthinkably, demand that he go on into the Lhari Galaxy? +What would he do, if they did?</p> + +<p>At one moment he entertained fantasies of going on into the Lhari +worlds, returning victorious with the secret of their fueling location, +or of the star-drive itself. At another, he could not wait to be free of +it all. He longed for the society of his own people, yet ached to think +that this voyage between the stars must end so soon.</p> + +<p>They made planetfall at the largest Lhari spaceport Bart had seen; as +always, the Second Officer was the first to go through Decontam and +ashore, returning with exchanged mail and messages for the <i>Swiftwing</i>'s +crew. He laughed when he gave Bartol a sealed packet. "So you're not +quite the orphan we've always thought!"</p> + +<p>Bart took it, his heart suddenly pounding, and walked away through the +groups of officers and crew eagerly debating how they would spend their +port leave. He knew what it would be.</p> + +<p>It was on the letterhead of Eight Colors, and it contained no message. +Only an address—and a time.</p> + +<p>He slipped away unobserved to the Mentorian part of the ship to borrow a +cloak from Meta. She did not ask why he wanted it, and stopped him when +he would have told her. "I'd—rather not know."</p> + +<p>She looked very small and very scared, and Bart wished he could comfort +her, but he knew she would shrink from him, repelled and horrified by +his Lhari skin, hair, claws.</p> + +<p>Yet she reached for his hand, gripping it hard in her own dainty one. +"Bartol, be careful," she whispered, then stopped. "Bartol—that's a +Lhari name. What's your real one?"</p> + +<p>"Bart. Bart Steele."</p> + +<p>"Good luck, Bart." There were tears in her gray eyes.</p> + +<p>With the blue cloak folded around his face, hands tucked in the slits at +the side, he felt almost like himself. And as the strange crimson +twilight folded down across the streets, laden with spicy smells and +little, fragrant gusts of wind, he almost savored the sense of being a +conspirator, of playing for high stakes in a network of intrigue between +the stars. He was off on an adventure, and meant to enjoy it.</p> + +<p>The address he had been given was a lavish estate, not far from the +spaceport, across a little gleaming lake that shimmered red, indigo, +violet in the crimson sunset, surrounded by a low wall of what looked +like purple glass. Bart, moving slowly through the gate, felt that eyes +were watching him, and forced himself to walk with slow dignity.</p> + +<p>Up the path. Up a low flight of black-marble stairs. A door swung open +and shut again, closing out the red sunset, letting him into a room that +seemed dim after the months of Lhari lights. There were three men in the +room, but his eyes were drawn instantly to one, standing against an +old-fashioned fireplace.</p> + +<p>He was very tall and quite thin, and his hair was snow-white, though he +did not look old. Bart's first incongruous thought was, <i>He'd make a +better Lhari than I would.</i> His firm, commanding voice told Bart at once +that this was the man in charge. "You are Bartol?" He extended his hand.</p> + +<p>Bart took it—and found himself gripped in a judo hold. The other two +men, leaping to place behind him, felt all over his body, not gently.</p> + +<p>"No weapons, Montano."</p> + +<p>"Look here—"</p> + +<p>"Save it," Montano said. "If you're the right person, you'll understand. +If not, you won't have much time to resent it. A very simple test. What +color is that divan?"</p> + +<p>"Green."</p> + +<p>"And those curtains?"</p> + +<p>"Darker green, with gold and red figures."</p> + +<p>The men released him, and the white-haired man smiled.</p> + +<p>"So you actually did it, Steele! I thought for sure the code message was +a fake." He stepped back and looked Bart over from head to foot, +whistling. "Raynor Three is a genius! Claws and everything! What a deuce +of a risk to take though!"</p> + +<p>"You know my name," Bart said, "but who are you?"</p> + +<p>Suspicion came back into the dark eyes. "Does that Mentorian cloak +mean—you've lost your memories, too?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Bart, "it's simpler than that. I'm not Rupert Steele. +I'm—" his voice caught—"I'm his son."</p> + +<p>The man looked startled and shocked. "I suppose that means Rupert is +dead. Dead! It came a little before he expected it, then. So you're +Bart." He sighed. "My name's Montano. This is Hedrick, and I suppose you +recognize Raynor Two."</p> + +<p>Bart blinked. It was the same face, but it was not grim like Raynor +One's, nor expressive and kindly like that of Raynor Three. This one +just looked dangerous.</p> + +<p>"But sit down," Montano said with a wave of his hand, "make yourself +comfortable."</p> + +<p>Hedrick relieved Bart of his cloak; Raynor Two put a cup of some +steaming drink in his hand, passed him a tray of small hot fried things +that tasted crisp and delicious. Bart relaxed, answering questions. <i>How +old? Only seventeen? And you came all alone on a Lhari ship, working +your way as Astrogator? I must say you've got guts, kid!</i> It was +dangerously like the fantasy he had invented. But Montano interrupted at +last.</p> + +<p>"All right, this isn't a party and we haven't all night. I don't suppose +Bart has either. Enough time wasted. Since you walked into this, young +Steele, I take it you know what our plans are, after this?"</p> + +<p>Bart shook his head. "No. Raynor Three sent me to call off your plans, +because of my father—"</p> + +<p>"That sounds like Three," interrupted Raynor Two. "Entirely too +squeamish!"</p> + +<p>Montano said irritably, "We couldn't have done anything without a man on +the <i>Swiftwing</i>, and you know it. We still can't. Bart, I suppose you +know about Lharillis."</p> + +<p>"Not by that name."</p> + +<p>"Your next stop. The planetoid of the captive sun. That little hunk of +bare rock out there is the first spot the Lhari visited in this +galaxy—even before Mentor. It's an inferno of light from that little +blue-white sun, so of course they love it—it's just like home to them. +When they found that the inner planets of Antares were inhabited, they +built their spaceport here, so they'd have a better chance at trade." +Montano scowled fiercely.</p> + +<p>"But they wanted that little worldlet. So we went all over it to be sure +there were no rare minerals there, and finally leased it to them, a +century at a time. They mine the place for some kind of powdered +lubricant that's better than graphite—it's all done by robot machinery, +no one's stationed there. Every time a Lhari ship comes through this +system they stop there, even though there's nothing on Lharillis except +a landing field and some concrete bunkers filled with robot mining +machinery. They'll stop there on the way out of this system—and that's +where you come in. We need you on board, to put the radiation counter +out of commission."</p> + +<p>He took a chart from a drawer, spread it out on a table top. "The +simplest way would be to cut these two wires. When the Lhari land, we'll +be there, waiting for them. On board the Lhari ship, there must be full +records—coordinates of their home world, of where they go for their +catalyst fuel—all that."</p> + +<p>Bart whistled. "But won't the crew defend the ship? You can't fight +energon-ray guns!"</p> + +<p>Montano's face was perfectly calm. "No. We won't even try." He handed +Bart a small strip of pale-yellow plastic.</p> + +<p>"Keep this out of sight of the Mentorians," he said. "The Lhari won't be +able to see the color, of course. But when it turns orange, take cover."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Radiation-exposure film. It's exactly as sensitive to radiation as you +are. When it starts to turn orange, it's picking up radiation. If you're +aboard the ship, get into the drive chambers—they're lead-lined—and +you'll be safe. If you're out on the surface, you'll be all right inside +one of the concrete bunkers. But get under cover before it turns red, +because by that time every Lhari of them will be stone-cold dead."</p> + +<p>Bart let the strip of plastic drop, staring in disbelief at Montano's +cold, cruel face. "Kill them? Kill a whole <i>shipload</i> of them? That's +<i>murder</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Not murder. War."</p> + +<p>"We're not at war with the Lhari! We have a treaty with them!"</p> + +<p>"The Federation has, because they don't dare do anything else," Montano +said, his face taking on the fanatic's light, "but some of us dare do +something, some of us aren't going to sit forever and let them strangle +all humanity, hold us down, let us <i>die</i>! It's war, Bart, war for +economic survival. Do you suppose the Lhari would hesitate to kill +anyone if we did anything to hurt their monopoly of the stars? Or didn't +they tell you about David Briscoe, how they hunted him down like an +animal—"</p> + +<p>"But how do we know that was Lhari policy, and not just—some fanatic?" +Bart asked suddenly. He thought of the death of the elder Briscoe, and +as always he shivered with the horror of it, but for the first time it +came to him: <i>Briscoe had provoked his own death. He had physically +attacked the Lhari—threatened them, goaded them to shoot him down in +self-defense!</i> "I've been on shipboard with them for months. They're not +wanton murderers."</p> + +<p>Raynor Two made a derisive sound. "Sounds like it might be Three +talking!"</p> + +<p>Hedrick growled, "Why waste time talking? Listen, young Steele, you'll +do as you're told, or else! Who gave you the right to argue?"</p> + +<p>"Quiet, both of you." Montano came and laid his arm around Bart's +shoulders, persuasively. "Bart, I know how you feel. But can't you trust +me? You're Rupert Steele's son, and you're here to carry on what your +father left undone, aren't you? If you fail now, there may not be +another chance for years—maybe not in our lifetimes."</p> + +<p>Bart dropped his head in his hands. <i>Kill a whole shipload of +Lhari—innocent traders? Bald, funny old Rugel, stern Vorongil, Ringg—</i></p> + +<p>"I don't know what to do!" It was a cry of despair. Bart looked +helplessly around at the men.</p> + +<p>Montano said, almost tenderly, "You couldn't side with the Lhari against +men, could you? Could a son of Rupert Steele do that?"</p> + +<p>Bart shut his eyes, and something seemed to snap within him. His father +had died for this. He might not understand Montano's reasons, but he had +to believe that Montano had them.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said, thickly, "you can count on me."</p> + +<p>When he left Montano's house, he had the details of the plan, had +memorized the location of the device he was to sabotage, and accepted, +from Montano, a pair of dark contact lenses. "The light's hellish out +there," Montano warned. "I know you're half Mentorian, but they don't +even take their Mentorians out there. They're proud of saying no human +foot has ever touched Lharillis."</p> + +<p>When he got back to the Lhari spaceport, Ringg hailed him. "Where have +you been? I hunted the whole port for you! I wouldn't join the party +till you came. What's a pal for?"</p> + +<p>Bart brushed by him without speaking, disregarding Ringg's surprised +stare, and went up the ramp. He reached his own cabin and threw himself +down in his bunk, torn in two.</p> + +<p>Ringg was his friend! Ringg liked him! And if he did what Montano +wanted, Ringg would die.</p> + +<p>Ringg had followed him, and was standing in the cabin door, watching him +in surprise. "Bartol, is something the matter? Is there anything I can +do? Have you had more bad news?"</p> + +<p>Bart's torn nerves snapped. He raised his head and yelled at Ringg, +"Yes, there is something! You can quit following me around and just let +me alone for a change!"</p> + +<p>Ringg took a step backward. Then he said, very softly, "Suit yourself, +Bartol. Sorry." And noiselessly, his white crest held high, he glided +away.</p> + +<p>Bart's resolve hardened. Loneliness had done odd things to him—thinking +of Ringg, a Lhari, one of the freaks who had killed his father, as a +friend! If they knew who he was, they would turn on him, hunt him down +as they'd hunted Briscoe, as they'd hunted his father, as they'd hounded +him from Earth to Procyon. He put his scruples aside. He'd made up his +mind.</p> + +<p>They could all die. What did he care? He was human and he was going to +be loyal to his own kind.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ELEVEN" id="CHAPTER_ELEVEN"></a>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h2> + + +<p>But although he thought he had settled all the conflict, he found that +it returned when he was lying in his bunk, or when he stood in the dome +and watched the stars, while they moved through the Antares system +toward the captive sun and the tiny planet Lharillis.</p> + +<p><i>It's in my power to give this to all men....</i></p> + +<p>Should a few Lhari stand in his way?</p> + +<p>He lay in his bunk brooding, thinking of death, staring at the yellow +radiation badge. <i>If you fail, it won't be in our lifetime.</i> He'd have +to go back to little things, to the little ships that hauled piddling +cargo between little planets, while all the grandeur of the stars +belonged to the Lhari. And if he succeeded, Vega Interplanet could +spread from star to star, a mighty memorial to Rupert Steele.</p> + +<p>One day Vorongil sent for him. "Bartol," he said, and his voice was not +unkind, "you and Ringg have always been good friends, so don't be angry +about this. He's worried about you—says you spend all your spare time +in your bunk growling at him. Is there anything the matter, feathertop?"</p> + +<p>He sounded so concerned, so—the word struck Bart with hysterical +humor—so <i>fatherly</i>, that Bart wanted insanely to laugh and to cry. +Instead he muttered, "Ringg should mind his own business."</p> + +<p>"But it's not like that," Vorongil said. "Look, the <i>Swiftwing</i>'s a +world, young fellow, and a small one. If one being in that world is +unhappy, it affects everyone."</p> + +<p>Bart had an absurd, painful impulse—to blurt out the incredible truth +to Vorongil, and try to get the old Lhari to understand what he was +doing.</p> + +<p>But fear held him silent. He was alone, one small human in a ship of +Lhari. Vorongil was frowning at him, and Bart mumbled, "It's nothing, +<i>rieko mori</i>."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you're pining for home," Vorongil said kindly. "Well, it +won't be long now."</p> + +<p>The glare of the captive sun grew and grew in the ports, and Bart's +dread mounted. He had, as yet, had no opportunity to put the radiation +counter out of order. It was behind a panel in the drive room, and try +as he might, he could think of no way to get to it unobserved. +Sometimes, in sleepless nights, it seemed that would be the best way. +Just let it go. But then the Lhari would detect Montano's ship, and kill +Montano and his men.</p> + +<p>Did he believe that? He had to believe it. It was the only way he could +possibly justify what he was doing.</p> + +<p>And then his chance came, as so many chances do when one no longer wants +them. The Second Officer met him at the beginning of one watch, saying +worriedly, "Bartol, old Rugel's sick—not fit to be on his feet. Do you +think you can hold down this shift alone, if I drop in and give you a +hand from time to time?"</p> + +<p>"I think so," Bart said, carefully not overemphasizing it. The Second +Officer, by routine, spent half of his time in the drive room, and half +his time down below in Maintenance. When he left, Bart knew he would +have at least half an hour, uninterrupted, in the drive room. He ripped +open the panel, located the wires and hesitated; he didn't quite dare to +cut them outright.</p> + +<p>He jerked one wire loose, frayed the other with a sharp claw until it +was almost in shreds and would break with the first surge of current, +pulled two more connections loose so that they were not making full +contact. He closed the panel and brushed dust over it, and when the +Second Officer came back, Bart was at his own station.</p> + +<p>As Antares fell toward them in the viewport, he found himself worrying +about Mentorians. They would be in cold sleep, presumably in a safe part +of the ship, behind shielding, or Montano would have made provisions for +them. Still, he wished there were a way to warn Meta.</p> + +<p>He was not on watch when they came into the planetary field of +Lharillis, but when he came on shift, he knew at once that the trouble +had been located. The panel was pulled open, the exposed wires hanging, +and Ringg was facing old Rugel, shouting, "Listen, Baldy, I won't have +you accusing me of going light on my work! I checked those panels eight +days ago! Tell me who's going to be opening the panels in here anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," Rugel said patiently, "I'm not accusing you of anything, only +being careless, young Ringg. You poke with those buzzing instruments and +things, maybe once you tear loose some wires."</p> + +<p>Bart remembered he wasn't supposed to know what was going on. "What's +this all about?"</p> + +<p>It was Rugel who answered. "The radiation counter—the planetary one, +not the one we use in space—is out of order. We don't even need it this +landing—there's no radiation on Lharillis. If it were the landing gear, +now, that would be serious. I'm just trying to tell Ringg—"</p> + +<p>"He's trying to say I didn't check it." Ringg was not to be calmed. +"It's my professional competence—"</p> + +<p>"Forget it," Bart said. "If Rugel isn't sore about it, and if we don't +need it for landing, why worry?" He felt like Judas.</p> + +<p>"Just take a look at my daybook," Ringg insisted, "I checked and marked +it <i>service fit</i>! I tell you, somebody was blundering around, opening +panels where they had no business, tore it out by accident, then was too +much of a filthy sneak to report it and get it fixed!"</p> + +<p>"Bartol was on watch alone one night," said the Second Officer, "but you +wouldn't meddle with panels, would you, Bartol?"</p> + +<p>Bart set his teeth, steadying his breathing, as Ringg turned hopefully +to him. "Bartol, did you—by mistake, maybe? Because if you did, it +won't count against your rating, but it means a black mark against +mine!"</p> + +<p>Bart hid his self-contempt in sudden, tense fury. "No, I didn't! You're +going to accuse everybody on the <i>Swiftwing</i>, all the way from me to +Vorongil, before <i>you</i> can admit a mistake, aren't you? If you want +somebody to blame, look in a mirror!"</p> + +<p>"Listen, you!" Ringg's pent-up rage exploded. He seized Bart by the +shoulder and Bart moved to throw him off, so that Ringg's outthrust +claws raked only his forearm. In pure reflex he felt his own claws flick +out; they clinched, closed, scuffled, and he felt his claws rake flesh; +half incredulous, saw the thin red line of blood welling from Ringg's +cheek.</p> + +<p>Then Rugel's arms were flung restrainingly around him, and the Second +Officer was wrestling with a furious, struggling Ringg. Bart looked at +his red-tipped claws in ill-concealed horror, but it was lost in a +general gasp of consternation, for Vorongil had flung the drive room +door open, taking in the scene in one blistering glance.</p> + +<p><i>"What's going on down here?"</i></p> + +<p>For the first time, Bart understood Vorongil's reputation as a tyrant. +One glance at Ringg's bleeding face and Bart's ripped forearm, and he +did not pause for breath for a good fifteen minutes. By the time he +finished, Bart felt he would rather Ringg's claws had laid him bleeding +to the bone than stand there in the naked contempt of the old Lhari's +freezing eyes.</p> + +<p>"Half-fledged nestlings trying to do a man's work! So someone forgot the +panel, or damaged the panel by mistake—no, not another word," he +commanded, as Ringg's crest came proudly up. "I don't care who did what! +Any more of this, and the one who does it can try his claws on the +captain of the <i>Swiftwing</i>!" He looked ugly and dangerous. "I thought +better of you both. Get below, you squalling kittens! Let me not see +your faces again before we land!"</p> + +<p>As they went along the corridor, Ringg turned to Bart, apology and +chagrin in his eyes. "Look—I never meant to get the Bald One down on +us," he said, but Bart kept his face resolutely averted. It was easier +this way, without pretense of friendship.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The light from the small captive sun grew more intense. Bart had never +known anything like it, and was glad to slip away and put the dark +contact lenses into his eyes. They made his eyes appear all enormous, +dilated pupil; fearfully, he hoped no one would notice. His arm smarted, +and he did not speak to Ringg all through the long, slow deceleration.</p> + +<p>When the intercom ordered all crew members to the hatchway, Bart +lingered a minute, pinning the yellow radiation badge in a fold of his +cloak. A spasm of fear threatened to overwhelm him again, and +nightmarish loneliness. He felt agonizingly homesick for his own +familiar face. It seemed almost more than he could manage, to step out +into the corridor full of Lhari.</p> + +<p><i>It won't be long now.</i></p> + +<p>The hatch opened. Even accustomed, as he was, to Lhari lights, Bart +squeezed his eyes shut at the blue-white brilliance that assaulted him +now. Then, opening slitted lids cautiously, he found that he could see.</p> + +<p>A weirdly desolate scene stretched away before them. Bare, burning sand, +strewn with curiously colored rocks, lay piled in strange chaos; then he +realized there was an odd, but perceptible geometry to their +arrangement. They showed alternate crystal and opaque faces. Old Rugel +noted his look of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Never been here before? That's right, you've always worked on the +Polaris run. Well, those aren't true rocks, but living creatures of a +sort. The crystals are alive; the opaque faces are lichens that have +something like chlorophyll and can make their food from air and +sunlight. The rocks and lichens live in symbiosis. They have +intelligence of a sort, but fortunately they don't mind us, or our +automatic mining machinery. Every time, though, we find some new lichen +that's trying to set up a symbiote cycle with the concrete of our +bunkers."</p> + +<p>"And every time," Ringg said cheerfully, "somebody—usually me—has to +see about having them scraped down and repainted. Maybe someday I'll +find a paint the lichens don't like the taste of."</p> + +<p>"Going to explore with Ringg?" Rugel asked, and Ringg, always ready to +let bygones be bygones, grinned and said, "Sure!" Bart could not face +him.</p> + +<p>Vorongil stopped and said, "This your first time here, young Bartol? How +would you like to visit the monument with me? You can see the machinery +on the way back."</p> + +<p>Relieved at not having to go with Ringg, he followed the captain, +falling into step beside him. They moved in silence, along the smooth +stone path.</p> + +<p>"The crystal creatures made this road," Vorongil said at last. "I think +they read minds a little. There used to be a very messy, rocky desert +here, and we used to have to scrabble and scratch our way to the +monument. Then one day a ship—not mine—touched down and discovered +that there was a beautiful smooth road leading up to the monument. And +the lichens never touch that stone—but you probably had all this in +school. Excited, Bartol?"</p> + +<p>"No—no, sir. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Eyes look a bit odd. But who could blame you for being excited? I never +come here without remembering Rhazon and his crew on that long jump. The +longest any Lhari captain ever made. A blind leap in the dark, remember, +Bartol. Through the dark, through the void, with his own crew cursing +him for taking the chance! No one had ever crossed between galaxies—and +remember, they were using the Ancient Math!"</p> + +<p>He paused, and Bart said through a catch of breath. "Quite an +achievement." His badge still looked reassuringly yellow.</p> + +<p>"You young people have no sense of wonder," Vorongil said. "Not that I +blame you. You can't realize what it was like in those days. Oh, we'd +had star-travel for centuries, we were beginning to stagnate. And now +look at us! Oh, they derided Rhazon—said that even if he did find +anyone, any other race, they'd be monsters with whom we could never +communicate. But here we have a whole new galaxy for peaceful trade, a +new mathematics that takes all the hazard out of space travel, our +Mentorian friends and allies." He smiled. "Don't tell the High Council +on me, but I think they deserve a lot more credit than most Lhari care +to give them. Between ourselves, I think the next Panarch may see it +that way."</p> + +<p>Vorongil paused. "Here's the monument."</p> + +<p>It lay between the crystal columns, tall, of pale blue sandstone, with +letters in deep shadow of such contrast that the Lhari could read them: +a high, sheer, imposing stele. Vorongil read the words slowly aloud in +the musical Lhari language:</p> + +<p>"'Here, with thanks to Those who Watch the Great Night, I, Rhazon of +Nedrun, raise a stone of memory. Here we first do touch the new worlds. +Let us never again fear to face the unknown, trusting that the Mind of +All Knowledge still has many surprises in store for all the living.'</p> + +<p>"I think I admire courage more than anything there is, Bartol. Who else +could have dared it? Doesn't it make you proud to be a Lhari?"</p> + +<p>Bart had felt profoundly moved; now he snapped back to awareness of who +he was and what he was doing. So only the Lhari had courage? <i>Life has +surprises, all right, Captain</i>, he thought grimly.</p> + +<p>He glanced down at the badge strip of plastic on his arm. It began to +tinge faint orange as he looked, and a chill of fear went over him. He +had to get away somehow—get to cover!</p> + +<p>He looked round and his fear was almost driven from his mind. "Captain, +the rocks! They're moving!"</p> + +<p>Vorongil said, unruffled, "Why, so they are. They do, you know; they +have intelligence of a sort. Though I've never actually <i>seen</i> them move +before, I know they shift places overnight. I wonder what's going on?" +They were edging back, the path widening and changing. "Oh, well, maybe +they're going to do some more landscaping for us. I once knew a captain +who swore they could read his mind."</p> + +<p>Bart saw the slow, inexorable deepening of his badge—he <i>had</i> to get +away. He tensed, impatient; gripped by fists of panic. Somewhere on this +world, Montano and his men were setting up their lethal radiations....</p> + +<p><i>Think of this: a Lhari ship of our own to study, to know how it works, +to see the catalyst and find out where it comes from, to read their +records and star routes. Now we know we can use it without dying in the +warp-drive....</i></p> + +<p><i>Think of this: to be human again, yet to travel the stars with men of +my own race!</i></p> + +<p><i>It's worth a few deaths!</i></p> + +<p>Even Vorongil? Standing here, talking to him, he might—<i>say it! You +talked to him as if he'd been your father! Oh, Dad, Dad, what would you +do?</i></p> + +<p>His voice was steady, as he said, "It's very good of you to show me all +this, sir, but the other men will call me a slacker. Hadn't I better get +to a work detail?"</p> + +<p>"Hm, maybe so, feathertop," Vorongil said. "Let me see—well, down this +way is the last row of bunkers. See the humps? You can check inside to +see if they're full or empty and save us the trouble of exploring if +they're all empty. Have a look round inside if you care to—the robot +machinery's interesting."</p> + +<p>Bart tensed; he had wondered how he'd get hidden inside, but he asked, +"Not locked?"</p> + +<p>"Locked?" The old Lhari's short, yellowed crest bobbed in surprise. +"Why? Who ever comes here but our ships? And what could we do with the +stuff but take it back with us? Why locked? You've been on the drift too +long—among those thieving humans! It's time you got back to live among +decent folk again. Well, go along."</p> + +<p>The sting of the words stiffened Bart as he took his leave. The color of +the badge seemed deeper orange....</p> + +<p><i>When it's red, you're dead.</i></p> + +<p><i>It's true. The Lhari don't steal. They don't even seem to understand +dishonesty.</i></p> + +<p><i>But they lied—lied to us all....</i></p> + +<p><i>Knowing what we were like, maybe! That we'd steal their ships, their +secrets, their lives!</i></p> + +<p>The deepening color of the badge seemed the one visible thing in a +strange glaring world. He walked along the row of bunkers, realizing he +need not check if they were full or empty—the Lhari wouldn't live long +enough to harvest their better-than-graphite lubricant. They'd be dead.</p> + +<p>The last bunker was empty. He looked at his orange badge and stepped +inside, heart pounding so loudly he thought it was an external sound—it +<i>was</i> an external sound, a step.</p> + +<p>"Don't move one inch," said a voice in Universal, and Bart froze, +trembling. He looked cautiously round.</p> + +<p>Montano stood there, spacesuited, his head bare, dark contact lenses +blurring his eyes. And in his hand a drawn blaster was held +level—trained straight at Bart's heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWELVE" id="CHAPTER_TWELVE"></a>CHAPTER TWELVE</h2> + + +<p>After the first moment of panic, Bart realized Montano could not tell +him from a Lhari. He remained motionless. "It's me, Montano—Bart +Steele."</p> + +<p>The man lowered the weapon and put it away. "You nearly got yourself cut +down," he said. "Did you make it all right?" He crossed behind Bart, +inspecting the fastenings of the bunker.</p> + +<p>"It's just luck I didn't shoot you first and ask questions afterward." +Montano drew a deep breath and sat down on the concrete floor. "Anyway, +we're safe in here. We've got about half an hour before the radiation +will reach lethal intensity. It has a very short half-life, though; only +about twelve minutes. If we spend an hour in here, we'll be safe enough. +Did you have any trouble putting the radiation counter out of +commission?"</p> + +<p>So in half an hour they would all be dead. Ringg, Rugel, Captain +Vorongil. Two dozen Lhari, all dead so that Montano could have a Lhari +ship to play with.</p> + +<p>And what then? More killing, more murder? Would Montano start killing +everyone who tried to get the secret of the drive from him? The Lhari +had the star-drive; maybe it belonged to them, maybe not. Maybe humans +had a right to have it, too. But this wasn't the right way. Maybe they +didn't deserve it.</p> + +<p>He turned to look at Montano. The man was leaning back, whistling softly +through his teeth. He felt like telling Montano that he couldn't go +through with it. He started to speak, then stopped, his blood icing +over.</p> + +<p><i>If I try to argue with him, I'll never get out of here alive. It means +too much to him.</i></p> + +<p><i>Do I just salve my conscience with that then? Sit here and let them +die?</i></p> + +<p>With a shock of remembrance, it came to Bart that he had a weapon. He +was armed, this time, with the energon-beam that was part of his +uniform. Montano had evidently forgotten it. <i>Could</i> he kill Montano? +Even to save two dozen Lhari?</p> + +<p>He reached hesitantly toward the beam-gun, quickly thumbed the catch +down to the lowest point, which was simple shock. He froze as Montano +looked in his direction, hand out of sight under his cloak.</p> + +<p>"How many Lhari on board?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-three, and three Mentorians."</p> + +<p>"Anyone apt to be behind shielding—say, in the drive chamber?"</p> + +<p>"No, I think they're all outside."</p> + +<p>Montano nodded, idly. "Then we won't have to worry."</p> + +<p>Bart slipped his hand toward his weapon. Montano saw the movement, +cocked his head in question; then, as understanding flashed over his +face, his hand darted to his own gun. But Bart had pressed the charge of +his, and Montano slumped over without a cry. He looked so limp that Bart +gasped. Was he dead? Hastily he fumbled the lax hand for a pulse. After +a long, endless moment he saw Montano's chest twitch and knew the man +was breathing.</p> + +<p>Well, Montano would be safe here in the bunker. Hastily, Bart looked at +his timepiece. Half an hour before the radiation was lethal—<i>for the +Lhari</i>. Was it already, for him? Shakily, he unfastened the door. He ran +out into the glare, seeing as he ran that his badge was tinged with an +ever-darkening, gold, orange....</p> + +<p>Montano had said there was a safety margin, but maybe he was wrong, +maybe all Bart would accomplish would be his own death! He ran back +along the line of bunkers, his heart pounding with his racing feet. Two +crewmen came along the line, young white-crested Lhari from the other +watch. He gasped, "Where is the captain?"</p> + +<p>"Down that way—what's wrong, Bartol?" But Bart was gone, his muscles +aching with the unaccustomed effort inside gravity. Putting on speed, he +saw the tall, austere shape of Vorongil, his banded cloak dark against +the glaring light. Vorongil turned, startled, at the sound of his +running feet.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, Bart realized that he was still holding his energon-ray. In +shock and revulsion, he dropped it at Vorongil's feet.</p> + +<p>"Captain, go warn the men! They'll all be dead in half an hour! There +are lethal radiations—"</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i> Are you sunstruck?"</p> + +<p>Bart stopped cold. Never once had it crossed his mind what he would say +to Vorongil or how he would make the captain believe his story, without +revealing Montano. He started to hold up his badge, realized the Lhari +captain could not see color, and dropped it again, while Vorongil bent +over to pick up the fallen gun. "Are you sunstruck or mad, Bartol? +What's this babble?"</p> + +<p>"Captain, everybody on the <i>Swiftwing</i>—"</p> + +<p>"And speak Lhari!" Vorongil demanded, and Bart realized that in his +excitement he had been shouting in Universal. He drew a long, deep +breath.</p> + +<p>"Captain, there are lethal radiations being released here," he said. +"You have just barely half an hour to gather all the men and get them +behind shielding."</p> + +<p>"The radiation counter is out of order," Vorongil remarked, unruffled. +"How can you possibly know—"</p> + +<p>Bart stood in despair. Could he say, <i>A ship has landed here?</i> Could he +say, <i>Check that bunker?</i> Even if Montano was a would-be murderer, he +was human, and Bart could not betray him to the Lhari. There had been +too much betrayal. His voice rose in sudden hysteria.</p> + +<p>"Captain, there's no time! I tell you, you'll all be dead if you don't +believe me! Get the men into the ship! Get them behind shielding and +<i>then</i> check my story! I'm not—" he had gone this far, he might as well +go the whole way—"<i>I'm not a Lhari!</i>"</p> + +<p><i>"What?"</i></p> + +<p>One of the crewmen came dashing up, his crest sweat-streaked. "Captain! +Rugel has collapsed! We don't know what's wrong with him."</p> + +<p>"Radiation sickness," said Bart, and Vorongil reached out, catching his +shoulder in a cruel taloned grip. Bart said desperately "I'm not a +Lhari! I signed on in disguise—I knew they meant to take the ship, but +I can't let you all die.</p> + +<p>"How can I make you believe me? Here—" In desperation, Bart reached up. +Pain stabbed his eyeballs, fierce, blinding, as he pulled out one of the +contact lenses. He could not see the captain's face through the light, +but suddenly two Lhari were holding his arms. The fear of death was on +Bart, but it no longer mattered. He saw through watering eyes the +ever-deepening orange of the badge disappearing.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said, tearing at it, "radiation. You must be able to see how +dark it is. Even if it's just darkness...."</p> + +<p>Suddenly Vorongil was shouting, but Bart could not hear. Two men were +dragging him along. They hustled him up the ramp of the ship. He could +see again, but his eyes were blurred, and he felt sick, colors spinning +before his eyes, a nauseated ringing in his head.</p> + +<p>At first he thought it was his ears ringing; then he made out the +rising, shrieking wail and fall of the emergency siren, steps running, +shouting voices, the slow clang of the doors. Someone was pushing at +him, babbling words in Lhari, but he heard them through an +ever-increasing distance: Vorongil's face bent over his, only a blurred +crimson blob that flashed away like a vanishing star in the viewport. It +flamed out into green darkness, vanished, and Bart fell through what +seemed to be a bottomless chasm of starless night.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When he woke, acceleration had its crushing hand on his chest. He tried +to move, discovered that he was strapped hard into a bunk, and fainted +again.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the pressure was gone and he was lying at ease on the smooth +sheets of a hospital bunk. His eyes were covered with a light bandage, +and there was a sharp pain in his left arm. He tried to move it and +found it was tied down.</p> + +<p>"I think he's coming round," said Vorongil's voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and a lot too soon for me," said a bitter voice which Bart +recognized as that of the ship's medic. "Freak!"</p> + +<p>"Listen, Baldy," said Vorongil, "whoever he is, he could have been +blinded or killed. You wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for that +<i>freak</i>, as you call him. Bartol, can you hear me? How much light can +your eyes stand?"</p> + +<p>"As much as any Mentorian." Bart found he could move his right arm, and +twitched the bandage away. Vorongil and the medic stood over him; in the +other infirmary bunk a form was lying, covered with a white sheet. +Sickly, Bart wondered if they had found Montano. Vorongil followed the +direction of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, and his voice held deep bitterness, "poor old Rugel is +dead. He didn't get much of the radiation, but his heart wouldn't stand +it, and gave out." He bowed his head. "He was bald in the service of the +ships when my crest was new-sprouted," he said in deep grief.</p> + +<p>Bart felt the shock of that, even through his own fear. He looked down +at his left arm. It was strapped to a splint, and fluid was dripping +slowly into the vein there.</p> + +<p>Vorongil nodded. "I expect you feel pretty sick. You got a good dose of +radiation yourself, but we've given you a couple of transfusions—one of +the Mentorians matched your blood type, fortunately. It was a close +call."</p> + +<p>The medic was looking down in ill-disguised curiosity. "Fantastic," he +said. "I don't suppose you'd tell me who changed your looks. I admit I +wouldn't believe it until I had a look at your foot bones under the +fluoroscope."</p> + +<p>Vorongil said quietly, "Bartol—I don't suppose that's your real +name—why did you do it?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't see you all die, sir," Bart said, not expecting them to +believe him. "No more than that."</p> + +<p>The medic said roughly in Lhari, "It's a trick, sir, no more. A trick to +make us trust him!"</p> + +<p>"Why would he risk his own life then?" Vorongil asked. "No, it's more +than that." He hesitated. "We checked the bunkers—in radiation +suits—before we took off. We found a man in one of them."</p> + +<p>"Was he dead?" Bart whispered.</p> + +<p>"No," Vorongil said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" It was a heartfelt explosion. Then, apprehensively, "Or did +you kill him?"</p> + +<p>"What do you think we are?" Vorongil said incredulously. "Indeed no. His +own men have probably found him by now. I don't imagine he got half as +much radiation as you did."</p> + +<p>Bart surveyed the needle in his arm. "Why are you taking all this +trouble if I'm going to be put out of the way?"</p> + +<p>"You must have some funny ideas about us," Vorongil said shaking his +head. "That would be a fine way to reward you for saving all of our +lives. No, you're not going to be killed."</p> + +<p>"If I had my way—" the old medic began, and suddenly Vorongil flew into +a rage. "Get out!"</p> + +<p>The medic went stiffly through the door, and Vorongil stood gazing down +at Bart, shaking his yellowed crest. "I don't know what to say to you. +It was a brave thing you did, but perhaps no braver than you've done all +along. Are you a Mentorian?"</p> + +<p>"Only half."</p> + +<p>"Strange," Vorongil said, looking into space, "that I could talk to you +as I did by the monument, and you knew what I meant. But, yes, you would +understand." Abruptly, he recalled himself, and his voice was thin and +cold.</p> + +<p>"I haven't quite decided what to do. I haven't spoken of this to the +crew yet; the fewer who know about this, the better. I told them you got +a heavy dose of radiation, and you're too sick to see visitors." He +sounded kinder when he said, "It's true, you know. It won't hurt you to +get your strength back."</p> + +<p>He went out, and Bart wondered, <i>Get my strength back for what?</i> He lay +back, feeling weaker than he realized. It was a relief to know he wasn't +going to be killed out of hand. And somehow he didn't believe he was +going to be killed at all.</p> + +<p>It wasn't like being a prisoner. The medic brought him plenty of food, +urging him to eat—"You need plenty of protein after radiation +burns"—and if he stayed in the bunk, it was only because he felt too +weak to get up. Actually he was suffering from delayed emotional shock, +as well as from radiation. He was content to let things drift.</p> + +<p>Inevitably, the time came when he had to think about what he had done. +He had betrayed Montano, he had been false to the men who sent him.</p> + +<p>"But they don't know the Lhari," his conscience replied, justifying what +he had done.</p> + +<p><i>You sided with the Lhari against your own people. You spoilt our +chances of learning about the Lhari fuel catalyst.</i></p> + +<p>"I've done something better than stealing a secret by stealth. I've +proved that humans and Lhari can communicate, that they can trust each +other. It's only their looks that are strange. A kind, generous man is a +kind generous man, whether his name is Raynor Three or Vorongil."</p> + +<p><i>But who's going to know it?</i></p> + +<p>"I know it. And truth comes out, sooner or later. Somehow, a better +understanding between man and Lhari will come from this."</p> + +<p>Secure in the knowledge, he turned over and went peacefully to sleep.</p> + +<p>When he woke again, he felt better. The Mentorian girl, Meta, was +sitting quietly between the bunks, watching him. He started to turn +over, flinched at the pain in his arm.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "we're giving you one last transfusion. Plasma, this +time. It's Lhari, but if you know that much, you know it won't hurt +you." She came and inspected the needle in his wrist, and Bart caught +her hand with his free one. "Meta, does anyone else know?"</p> + +<p>She looked down with a troubled smile. "I don't think so. I was off +watch, waiting for cold-sleep—we're just about to make the long +jump—when Vorongil came to my quarters. I was startled almost out of my +wits. He asked if I could keep a secret; then he told me about you. Oh, +Bart!" Her small soft hand closed convulsively on his, "I was so afraid! +I knew they wouldn't kill you, but I was afraid!"</p> + +<p><i>Yet they had killed David Briscoe</i>, Bart thought, and hunted down two +of his friends. It was the only thing he couldn't square with his +perception of the Lhari. It didn't fit. He could understand that they +had shot down the robotcab with Edmund Briscoe in it, in pure +self-defense; and that knowledge had taken off the edge of the horror. +But the death of young Briscoe and everyone he had talked to could not +be explained away.</p> + +<p>"You seem very sure they wouldn't have killed me, Meta," he said, +carefully clasping his hand around hers.</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't," she affirmed. "But they could—make you forget—"</p> + +<p>A small chill went over Bart. He let go of her hand and lay staring +bleakly at the wall. He supposed that was his probable fate: remembering +the tragic tone of Raynor Three when he said <i>I won't remember you</i>, he +gritted his teeth, feeling his face twist convulsively. Meta, watching, +misunderstood.</p> + +<p>"Arm hurting? I'll have that needle out of your vein in a few minutes +now."</p> + +<p>When she had freed his arm and put away the apparatus, she came to his +side. "Bart, how did it happen? How did they find you out?"</p> + +<p>Suddenly, the longing for human contact was too much for Bart, and the +knowledge of his secret intolerable. The Lhari could find out what he +knew, if they wanted to know, very simply; he was in their power. It +didn't matter any more.</p> + +<p>The telling of the story took a long time, and when he finished, Meta's +soft small kitten-face was compassionate.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you—decided what you did," she whispered. "It's what a +Mentorian would have done. I know that other races call us <i>slaves of +the Lhari</i>. We aren't. We're working in our own way to show the Lhari +that human beings can be trusted. The other peoples—they hold away from +the Lhari, fighting them with words even though they're afraid to fight +them with weapons, carrying on the war that they're afraid to fight!</p> + +<p>"Did it ever occur to you—all the peoples of all the planets keep +saying, <i>We're as good as the Lhari</i>, but only the Mentorians are +willing to prove it? Bart, a Lhari ship can't get along in our galaxy +without Mentorians any more! It may be slower than trying to take the +warp-drive by force, or stealing it by spying, but when we learn to +endure it, I have faith that we'll get it!"</p> + +<p>Bart, although moved by Meta's philosophy, couldn't quite share it. It +still seemed to him that the Mentorians were lacking in +something—independence, maybe, or drive.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't thinking about anything like that," he said honestly. "It was +simply that I couldn't let them die. After all—" he was speaking more +to himself than to the girl—"it's <i>their</i> star-drive. <i>They</i> found it. +And they've given us star-trade, and star-travel, cheaply and with +profit to both sides. I hope we'll get the star-drive someday. But if we +got it by mass murder, it would sow the seeds of a hatred between men +and Lhari that would never end. It wouldn't be worth it, Meta. Nothing +would be worth that. We've got enough hate already."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Bart was still in his bunk, but beginning to fret at staying there, when +the familiar trembling of Acceleration Two started to run through the +ship. It was, by now, so familiar to him that he hardly gave it a second +thought, but Meta panicked.</p> + +<p>"What's happening? Bart, what is it? Why are we under acceleration +again?"</p> + +<p>"Shift to warp," he said without thinking, and her face went deathly +white. "So that's it," she whispered. "Vorongil—no wonder he wasn't +worried about what I would find out from you or what you knew." She drew +herself together in her chair, a miserable, shrunken, terrified little +figure, bravely trying to control her terror.</p> + +<p>Then she held out her hands to Bart. "I'm—I'm ashamed," she whispered. +"When you've been so brave, I shouldn't be afraid to die."</p> + +<p>"Meta, what's the matter? What are you afraid of?" It suddenly swept +over Bart what she meant and what she feared. "But don't you understand, +Meta?" he exclaimed, "Humans <i>can</i> live through the warp-drive! No +drugs, no cold-sleep—Meta, I've done it dozens of times!"</p> + +<p><i>"But you're a Lhari!"</i> It burst from her, uncontrollable. She stopped, +looked at him in consternation. He smiled, bitterly.</p> + +<p>"No, Meta, they didn't do a thing to my internal organs, to my brain, to +the tissues of my body. Just a little plastic surgery on my hands, my +feet and my face. Meta, there's nothing to be afraid of—nothing," he +repeated.</p> + +<p>She twisted her small hands together. "I'm—trying to—to believe that," +she whispered, "but all my life I've known—"</p> + +<p>The screaming whine in the ship gripped them with the strange, clawing +lassitude and discomfort. Bart, gasping under it, heard the girl moan, +saw her slump lax in her chair, half fainting. Her face was so deathly +white that he began seriously to be afraid she would die of her fear. +Fighting his own agonizing weakness, he pulled himself upright. He +reached the girl, dug his claws cruelly into her.</p> + +<p>"Girl, get hold of yourself! Fight it! <i>Fight</i> it! The more scared you +are, the worse it's going to be!"</p> + +<p>She was rigid, trembling, in a trance of terror.</p> + +<p>"You rotten little coward," he yelled at her, "snap out of it! Or are +all you Mentorians so gutless that you believe any half-baked folk tale +the Lhari pass off on you? You and your fine talk about earning the +star-drive! What would you do with it after you got it—if you die of +fear when you try?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! You—!" She flung her head back, her eyes blazing with rage. +"Anything you can do, I can do, too!" He saw life flowing back into her +face, and the trembling now was with fury, not fear; she was fighting +the pain, the crawling itch in her nerve ends, the terrible sense of +draining disorganization.</p> + +<p>Bart felt his hold on himself breaking. He whispered hoarsely, "That's +the girl—don't be scared if I—black out for a minute." He held on to +consciousness with his last courage, afraid if he fainted, the girl +would collapse again.</p> + +<p>She reached for him, and Bart, starved for some human touch, drew her +into his arms. They clung together, and he felt her wet face against his +own, the softness of her trembling hands. She was still crying a little. +Then the blackness closed on him, as if endless, and the gray blur of +warp-drive peak blotted his brain into nothingness.</p> + +<p>He came out of it to feel her cheek soft against his, her head +trustfully on his shoulder. He said huskily, "All right, Meta?"</p> + +<p>"I'm fine," she murmured, shakily. He tightened his hands a little, +realizing that for the first time in months he had physically forgotten +his Lhari disguise, that Meta had given him this priceless reassurance +that he was human. But, as if suddenly aware of it again, she looked up +at him and drew hesitantly away.</p> + +<p>"Don't—Meta, am I so horrible to you then? So—repulsive?"</p> + +<p>"No, it's only—" she bit her lip—"it's just that the Lhari are—I +can't quite explain it."</p> + +<p>"Different," Bart finished for her. "At first I was repelled—physically +repelled by myself, and by them. It was like living among weird animals, +and being one of the animals. And then, one day, Ringg was just another +kid. He had gray skin and long claws and white hair, just the way I once +had pinkish skin and short fingernails and reddish hair, but the +difference wasn't that I was human inside and he wasn't. If you skinned +Ringg, and skinned me, we'd be almost identical. And all of a sudden +then, Ringg and Vorongil and all the rest were men to me. Just people. I +thought you Mentorians, after living with the Lhari all these years, +would feel that."</p> + +<p>She said in slow wonder, "We've lived and worked side by side with them +all these years, yet kept so apart! I've defended the Lhari to you, yet +it took you to explain them to me!"</p> + +<p>His arm was still round her, her head still lying on his shoulder. Bart +was just beginning to wonder if he might kiss her when the infirmary +door opened and Ringg stood in the doorway, staring at them with +surprise, shock and revulsion. Bart realized, suddenly, how it must look +to Ringg—who certainly shared Meta's prejudice—but even as he +comprehended it, Ringg's face altered. Meta slipped from Bart's arms and +rose, but Ringg came slowly a step into the room.</p> + +<p>"I—remembered you had a bad reaction, to warp-drive," he said. "I came +to see if you were all right. I would never have believed—but I'm +beginning to guess. There was always something about you, Bartol." He +shut the door behind him and stood against it. His voice lowered almost +to a whisper, he said, "You're not Lhari, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Vorongil knows," Bart said.</p> + +<p>Ringg nodded. "That day on Lharillis. The crew was talking, but only one +or two of them really <i>know</i> what happened. There are a dozen rumors. I +wanted to see you. They said you were sick with radiation burns—"</p> + +<p>"I was."</p> + +<p>Ringg raised his hand, absently, to the still-puckered mark on his +cheek, saw Bart watching him and smiled.</p> + +<p>"You're not worrying about that fight? Forget it, friend. If anything, I +admire someone who can use his claws—especially if, as I begin to +suspect, they're not his." He leaned over, his hand lightly on Bart's +shoulder. "I don't forget so easily. You saved my life, remember? And +you're a hero on the ship for warning us all. Are you really human? Why +not get rid of the disguise?"</p> + +<p>Bart laughed wryly. "It won't come off," he said, and explained.</p> + +<p>Ringg raised his hands to his own face curiously. "I wonder what sort of +human I'd make?" He looked at Meta's small fingers. "Not that I'd ever +have the nerve. But then, it's no surprise to anyone that you have +courage, Bartol."</p> + +<p>"You seem to accept it—"</p> + +<p>"It's a shock," said Ringg honestly, "it scares me a little. But I'm +remembering the friendship. That was real. As far as I'm concerned, it +still is real."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN" id="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN"></a>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h2> + + +<p>Ringg was still bending over Meta's hand when Vorongil came into the +cabin. He started to speak, then noticed Ringg. "I might have known," he +growled, "if there was anything to find out, you'd find it."</p> + +<p>"Shall I go, <i>rieko mori</i>?"</p> + +<p>"No, stay. You'll find it out some way or other, you might as well get +it right the first time. But first of all—are you all right, Meta?"</p> + +<p>Her chin went up, defiantly. "Yes. And why have you lied to us all these +years—all of you?"</p> + +<p>Vorongil looked mildly startled. "It wasn't exactly a lie. Nine out of +ten Lhari captains believe it with all their heart—that humans die in +warp-drive. I wasn't sure myself until I heard the debates in Council +City, last year."</p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>Vorongil sighed. His eyes rested disconcertingly on Bart. "I presume you +know human history," he said, "better than I do. The Lhari have never +had a war, in all written history. Quite frankly, you terrified us. It +was decided, on the highest summit levels, that we wouldn't give humans +too many chances to find out things we preferred to keep to ourselves. +The first few ships to carry Mentorians had carried them without +cold-sleep, but people forget easily. The truth is buried in the records +of those early voyages.</p> + +<p>"As the Mentorians grew more important to us, we began to regret the +policy, but by that time the Mentorians themselves believed it so firmly +that when we tried the experiment of carrying them through the shift +into warp-drive, they died of fear—pure suggestion. I tried it with +you, Meta, because I knew Bart's presence would reassure you. The others +were given an inert sedative they believed to be the cold-sleep drug. +How are you feeling, Bart?"</p> + +<p>"Fine—but wondering what's going to happen."</p> + +<p>"You won't be hurt," Vorongil said, quickly. Then: "You don't believe +me, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't, sir. David Briscoe did what I did, and he's dead. So are three +other men."</p> + +<p>"Men do strange things from fear—men and Lhari. Your people, as I said +before, have a strange history. It scares us. Can you guarantee that +some, at least, of your people wouldn't try to come and take the +star-drive by force? We left a man on Lharillis who thought nothing of +killing twenty-four of us. I suppose the captain of the <i>Multiphase</i>, +knowing he had gravely violated Lhari laws, knowing that Briscoe's +report might touch off an intergalactic war between men and Lhari—well, +I suppose he felt that half a dozen deaths were better than half a +million. I'm not defending him. Just explaining, maybe, why he did what +he did."</p> + +<p>Bart lowered his eyes. He had no answer to that.</p> + +<p>"No, you won't be killed. But that's all I can guarantee. My personal +feelings have nothing to do with it. You'll have to go to Council Planet +with us, and you'll have to be psych-checked there. That is Lhari +law—and by treaty with your Federation, it is human law, too. If you +know anything dangerous to us, we have a legal right to eliminate those +memories before you can be released."</p> + +<p>Meta smiled at him, encouragingly, but Bart shivered. That was almost +worse than the thought of death.</p> + +<p>And the fear grew more oppressive as the ship forged onward toward the +home world of the Lhari. And it did not lessen when, after they touched +down, he was taken from the ship under guard.</p> + +<p>He had only a glimpse, through dark glasses, of the terrible brilliance +of the Lhari sun dazzling on crystal towers, before he was hustled into +a closed surface car. It whisked him away to a building he did not see +from the outside; he was taken up by private elevator to a suite of +rooms which might—for all he could tell—have been a suite in a luxury +hotel or a lunatic asylum. The walls were translucent, the furniture +oddly colored, and so carefully padded that even a homicidal or suicidal +person could not have hurt himself or anyone else on it or with it.</p> + +<p>Food reached him often enough so that he never got hungry, but not often +enough to keep him from being bored between meals, or from brooding. Two +enormous Lhari came in to look at him every hour or so, but either they +were deaf and dumb, did not understand his dialect of Lhari, or were +under orders not to speak to him. It was the most frustrating time of +his entire voyage.</p> + +<p>One day it ended. A Lhari and a Mentorian came for him and took him down +elevators and up stairs, and into a quiet, neutral room where four Lhari +were gathered. They sat him in a comfortable chair, and the Mentorian +interpreter said gently, with apology:</p> + +<p>"Bart Steele, I have been asked to say to you that you will not be +physically harmed in any way. This will be much simpler, and will have +much less injurious effect on your mind if you cooperate with us. At the +same time, I have been asked to remind you that resistance is absolutely +useless, and if you attempt it, you will only be treated with force +rather than with courtesy."</p> + +<p>Bart sat facing them, shaking with humiliation. The thought of +resistance flashed through his mind. Maybe he should make them fight for +what they got! At least they'd see that all humans weren't like the +Mentorians, to sit quietly and let themselves be brainwashed without a +word of protest.</p> + +<p>He started to spring up, and the hands of his guards tightened, swift +and strong, even before his muscles had fully tightened. Bart's head +dropped. Cold common sense doused over his brave thoughts. He was +uncountable millions of light-years from his own people. He was +absolutely alone. Bravery would mean nothing; submission would mean +nothing. Would he be more of a man, somehow, if he let his mind be +wrecked?</p> + +<p>"All right," he muttered, "I won't fight."</p> + +<p>"You show your good sense," the Mentorian said quietly. "Give me your +left arm, please—or, if you are left-handed, your right. As you +prefer."</p> + +<p>Deftly, almost painlessly, a needle slid into his arm. <i>Giving in.</i> A +dizzying welter of thoughts spun suddenly in his mind. Briscoe. Raynor +One and Raynor Three. The net between the stars. Ringg, Vorongil, Meta, +his father....</p> + +<p>Consciousness slid away.</p> + +<p>Years later—he never knew whether it was memory or imagination—it +seemed to him that he could reach into that patch of gray and dreamless +time and fish out questions and answers whole, the faces of Lhari +swelling up suddenly in his eyes and shrinking back into interstellar +distance, the sting-smell of drugs, the sound of unexpected voices, odd +reflex pains, cobwebs of patchy memories that fitted nowhere else into +his life so that he supposed they must go here.</p> + +<p>He only knew that there was a time he did not remember and then a time +when he began to think there was such a thing as memory, and then a time +when he floated without a body, and then another time when the path of +every separate nerve in his body seemed to be outlined, a shimmering web +in the gray murk. There was a mirror and a face. There were blotchy +worms of light like the star-trails of peaking warp-drive through the +viewport, colors shifting and receding, a green star, the red eye of +Antares.</p> + +<p>Then the peak-point faded, his mind began to decelerate and angle slowly +down and down into the field of awareness, and he became fuzzily aware +that he was lying full length on a sort of couch. He shook his head +groggily. It hurt. He sat up. That hurt, too. A hand closed gently +around his elbow and he felt the cold edge of a cup against his sore +mouth.</p> + +<p>"Take a sip of this."</p> + +<p>The liquid felt cool on his tongue, evaporating almost before he could +swallow; the fumes seemed to mount inside the root of his nose, +expanding tremendously inside his head and brain. Abruptly his head was +clear, the last traces of gray fuzz gone.</p> + +<p>"When you feel able," the Mentorian said courteously, "the High Council +will see you."</p> + +<p>Bart blinked. As if exploring a sore tooth with his tongue, his mind +sought for memories, but they all seemed clear, marshaled in line. The +details, clear and unblurred, of his voyage here. His humiliation and +resentment against the Lhari. <i>They could have changed my thinking, my +attitudes. They could have made me admire or be loyal to the Lhari. They +didn't. I'm still me.</i></p> + +<p>"I'm ready now." He got up, reeled and had to lean on the Mentorian; his +feet did not seem to touch the ground in quite the right way. After a +minute he could walk steadily, and followed the Mentorian along a +corridor. The Mentorian said into a small grille, "The Vegan Bartol, +alias Bart Steele," and after a moment a doorway opened.</p> + +<p>Inside a room rose, high, domed, vaulted above his head, whitish +opalescent, washed with green. For a moment, while his eyes adjusted to +the light, he wondered how the Lhari saw it.</p> + +<p>Beyond an expanse of black, glassy floor, he saw a low semicircular +table, behind which sat eight Lhari. All wore pale robes with high +collars that rose stiffly behind their domed heads; all were old, their +faces lined with many wrinkles, and seven of the eight were as bald as +the hull of the <i>Swiftwing</i>. Under their eyes he hesitated; then, +unexpectedly, pride stiffened his back.</p> + +<p>They should have done a better job of brainwashing, if they expected him +to skulk in like a scared rabbit! He held his head high and moved across +the floor step by steady step, trying not to limp or display that he +felt tired or sore.</p> + +<p><i>You're human! Act proud of it!</i></p> + +<p>No one moved until he stood before the semicircle of ancients. Then the +youngest, the only one of the eight with some trace of feathery crest on +his high gray head, said "Captain Vorongil, you identify this person?"</p> + +<p>"I do," Vorongil said, and Bart saw him seated before the high Council. +To Bart, the Lhari captain seemed a familiar, almost a friendly face.</p> + +<p>"Well, Bart Steele, alias Bartol son of Berihun," said one old Lhari, +"what have you to say for yourself?"</p> + +<p>Bart stood silent, not moving. What could he say that would not reveal +how desperately alone, how young and foolish and frightened he felt? All +his brave resolutions seemed to drain away before their old, gnomish +faces. Here he'd been thinking of himself as a brave spy, a gallant +fighter in humanity's cause and what not. Now he saw himself for what he +was; a reckless boy, meddling in affairs too big for him. He lowered his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"We have read the transcript of your knowledge," said the old Lhari. +"There is little in it that we do not know. We are not, of course, +concerned with human conspiracies unless they endanger Lhari lives. The +Antares authorities will deal with the man Montano for an unauthorized +landing on Lharillis, in violation of Federation treaty."</p> + +<p>He smiled, his gnome's face breaking into a million tiny cracks like a +piece of gray-glazed pottery. "Bartol, or whatever you call yourself, +you are a brave young man. I suppose you are afraid we will block your +memories, or your ability to speak of them?"</p> + +<p>Bart nodded, gulping. Did the old Lhari read his mind?</p> + +<p>"A year ago we might have done so. Captain Vorongil, you will be +interested to know that we have discussed this in Council, and your +recommendations have been taken. The secret that humans can endure +star-drive has outlived its usefulness. For good or ill, it is secret no +longer. We cannot possibly eliminate all the old records, or the +enterprising people who hunt them out.</p> + +<p>"The captain who had David Briscoe killed, under the mistaken notion +that this would excuse his own negligence in letting Briscoe stow away +on his ship, is undergoing psychotherapy and may eventually recover.</p> + +<p>"As for the rest—Bart Steele, you know nothing that is a danger to us. +You do not know the coordinates of our world, or even in which galaxy it +is located. You do not know where we secure the catalyst your people +seek. In fact, you know nothing that is not soon to become common +knowledge. In view of that, we have decided not to interfere with your +memories."</p> + +<p>"Talk as much as you like," added another of the ancients, "and may your +memories of this voyage help in understanding between the Lhari and +other human races. Good fortune to you." And he was smiling.</p> + +<p>"There is another side to this," said a third, more sternly and gravely. +"You have broken a treaty between Lhari and man. We have dealt with you +as the laws required; now your own people must do so. You must return +with the <i>Swiftwing</i> to the planet where the violation originated—" he +consulted a memorandum—"Procyon Alpha. There you and the man Raynor +Three will face charges of unlawful conspiracy to board a Lhari ship, in +violation of Intergalactic Trade treaties. Captain Vorongil, will you be +responsible for him?"</p> + +<p><i>So I've lost</i>, Bart thought drearily. <i>I didn't even learn anything +important enough for them to suppress.</i> There was a strange wounded +pride in this; after all his trouble, he was being treated like a little +boy who has used a great deal of enterprise and intelligence to rob a +cookie cupboard, and for his pains is sent home with the stolen cookie +in his hand.</p> + +<p>Vorongil touched his arm. "Come, Bartol," he said gently, "I'm taking +you back to the <i>Swiftwing</i>. I don't have to treat you like a prisoner, +do I?"</p> + +<p>Numbly, Bart gave what the old Lhari asked, his word of honor not to +attempt escape (<i>Escape? Where to?</i>) or to attempt to enter the drive +chamber of the <i>Swiftwing</i> while they were still among the Lhari worlds.</p> + +<p>As they left the council hall, Bart, in a gesture of despair, covered +his face with his hands. As he brought them down, he found himself +staring at them, transfixed.</p> + +<p>The fingers looked longer and thinner than he remembered them, but they +were his own hands again. The nails seemed faintly thick and ridged, and +there was still a faint grayish tinge through the pale flesh color, but +they were human hands. Unmistakably. He felt of his nose and ears, with +fumbling fingers; raised his hand and touched the very short, crisp hair +growing on his newly shaven skull.</p> + +<p>"You fool," said Vorongil to the Mentorian, in disgust, "why didn't you +tell him what the medics had done for him? Easy, Bartol!" The old +Lhari's arm tightened around his shoulder. "I thought they'd told you. +Somebody come here and give the youngster a hand."</p> + +<p>Later, in the small cabin (it had been Rugel's) which was to be his +prison during the return voyage of the <i>Swiftwing</i>, he had a chance to +study his familiar-strange face. He had thought that only a short +time—an hour or so—had elapsed between the time he was drugged and the +time they took him before the Council. Later, from what he learned about +the dispatch schedules of the <i>Swiftwing</i>, he realized that he had been +kept under sedation for nearly three weeks, while his face and hands +healed.</p> + +<p>As Raynor Three had warned, the change was not altogether reversible. +Studying his face in the mirror, he could still see a hint of something +thin, strange, alien in the set of his features; the nose and chin +somewhat too pointed, elfin, to be human. His hands would always be too +long, too narrow, too supple. For the rest, he looked grim, older. He +could never go back to what he had been before he became a Lhari; it had +left its mark on him forever.</p> + +<p>Before the <i>Swiftwing</i> lifted, outbound, Vorongil came to his cabin. +"You've seen very little of our world," he said diffidently. "I have +permission for you to visit the city before we leave Council Spaceport."</p> + +<p>"You think you can trust me?" Bart asked bitterly.</p> + +<p>Vorongil said gravely, without humor, "The question does not arise. You +do not know the coordinates of this world, and have no way of finding +them. Within those limitations, you are an honored guest here, and if it +would give you any pleasure, you are welcome to see as much of Council +Planet as time permits."</p> + +<p>It seemed, through Vorongil's kindness, that the old Lhari sensed his +bitter defeat. Nothing was to be gained by sulking in his cabin, a +prisoner. He had an opportunity which no human, except the Mentorians, +had ever had; which perhaps no human would ever have again. He might as +well take advantage of it.</p> + +<p>Ringg and Meta both seemed startled at his new appearance, but Meta +instantly held out her hands, clasping his quickly and warmly. "Bart! I +wondered what your real face looked like. But I think I'd have known you +anyhow."</p> + +<p>Ringg surveyed him wonderingly, shaking his head. "Say something," he +implored, "so I'll know you're Bartol."</p> + +<p>Bart held out his arm, less gray by the day as the drug wore out of his +system. The thin line of the scar was still on it. He raised his +forefinger lightly to the fine line on Ringg's cheek. "I couldn't return +that now. So let's not get into any more fights."</p> + +<p>Ringg laughed and gave him a rough, affectionate shove. "You're Bartol, +all right!"</p> + +<p>Even his sense of defeat vanished in wonder as they came out into the +great spaceport. He saw, now, that the Lhari spaceports in human worlds +were built to create, for the spacemen so far from their native worlds, +some feeling of home. But everything here was so vast as to stagger the +imagination. There were miles and miles of the great ships, lying strewn +like pebbles on this monster beachhead into space, bearing the +strangeness of a million far-flung stars. He gaped like a child.</p> + +<p>Above them, the burning brilliance of a star gave strange glow and color +to the crystal pylons. What color was the star? He turned to Meta, +irritated at his inability to be sure.</p> + +<p>"Meta, what color is this sun? I've been all around the spectrum, and +it's not red, blue, green, orange, violet—" He broke off, realizing +what he had said and what he had seen. "An eighth color," he finished, +anticlimatically.</p> + +<p>"You and your talk of colors," Ringg grumbled, "I wish I knew what you +Mentorians see! It's like trying to imagine seeing a smell or hearing +light!"</p> + +<p>Meta laughed. "As far as I know, no one's named it. Sometimes we +Mentorians call it <i>catalyst color</i>. I think only Mentorians can see it +as separate color."</p> + +<p>"So what?" Ringg said impatiently, "What are we going to do, chatter +about light waves or see the city?"</p> + +<p>Bart acquiesced, trying to sound eager, but a wild excitement was +gusting up in him. He dutifully pretended fascination with the towers, +the many-leveled roads, the giant dams and pylons, but his thoughts were +racing.</p> + +<p><i>The eighth color!</i> There can't be too many suns of this color, or +they'd have named it and known it! And telescopes can find it.</p> + +<p>Could success be salvaged, then, at the very edge of failure? Maybe he +need not go empty-handed, empty-eyed, from the Lhari worlds! They had +dismissed him, scornfully, stolen cookie in hand—but maybe it would be +a bigger cookie than they dreamed!</p> + +<p>The exhilaration lasted through the tour of the port, through the heavy +surge of acceleration which brought them up, out and way from Council +Planet. Bart, confined in Rugel's cabin, hardly felt like a prisoner, +his mind busy with schemes.</p> + +<p><i>I'll study star-maps, and spectroscope reports....</i></p> + +<p>It lasted almost two days of shiptime, and they were readying for +Acceleration Two, before he came, figuratively, down to earth. To pick +one star out of trillions—and not even in his own galaxy? It would take +a lifetime and he didn't even know which of the four or five spiral +nebulae in the skies of the human worlds was the Lhari Galaxy. A +lifetime? A hundred lifetimes wouldn't do it!</p> + +<p>He might have known. If there had been one chance in the odd billion of +his making any such discovery, the Lhari would never have given Vorongil +permission for the intruder to visit the planet at all. He would have +been returned to the <i>Swiftwing</i> as he had been taken from it, by closed +car, and imprisoned, maybe even drugged, until he was safely back in the +human worlds again.</p> + +<p>He was under parole not to enter the drive chamber (and sure he would be +stopped if he attempted it anyhow), but when Acceleration One was +completed, he went to the viewport in the Recreation Lounge, and nobody +threw him out. He stood long, looking at the unfamiliar galaxy of the +Lhari stars; the unknown, forever unknowable constellations with their +strange shapes. Stars green, gold, topaz, burning blue, sullen red, and +the great strangely colored receding sun of the Lhari people, known to +them by the melodious name of the Ke Lhiro—which meant, simply, <i>The +Sun</i>: it was their first home.</p> + +<p>Where had he seen that color? In that stolen glimpse of the Lhari ship +landing, long ago? Of all the colors of space, this one he would never +know.</p> + +<p>He turned away from the unsolvable riddle of the strange constellations; +and went to his cabin, to dream of the green star Meristem where he had +first plotted known coordinates for a previously unknown world, and to +wander in baffling nightmares where he fed jagged, star-colored pieces +of hail into the ship's computer and watched them come out as tiny +paperdoll spaceships with the letterhead of Eight Colors printed neatly +across their sides.</p> + +<p>After the warp-drive shift, Vorongil came to his cabin, this time crisp +and businesslike.</p> + +<p>"We're back in your galaxy," he said, "among the stars you know. We have +no passenger space on the <i>Swiftwing</i>; we had to ship out without +replacing Rugel, which means we're short two men. I've no authority to +ask this of you, but—would you like your old job back for the rest of +the voyage?"</p> + +<p>Bart glanced at his human hands.</p> + +<p>Vorongil shrugged. "We've carried Mentorians as full-ranking +Astrogators. There don't happen to be any on the <i>Swiftwing</i>. But +there's no law about it."</p> + +<p>Bart looked the old Lhari in the eye. "I won't accept Mentorian terms, +Vorongil."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't ask it. You worked your way outward on this run, and the +High Council didn't see fit to erase those memories or inhibit them. Why +should I? Do you want it or not?"</p> + +<p>Did he want it? Until this moment Bart had not identified the worst of +his pain and defeat—to travel as a passenger, a supercargo, when he had +once been part of the <i>Swiftwing</i>. Literally he ached to be back with it +again. "I do, <i>rieko mori</i>."</p> + +<p>"Very well," Vorongil rapped, "see that you turn out next watch!" He +spun round and walked out. His tone was no longer gently indulgent, but +sharp and distant. Bart, at first surprised, suddenly understood.</p> + +<p>Not now a prisoner, a passenger, a guest on the <i>Swiftwing</i>. He was part +of the crew again—and Vorongil was his captain.</p> + +<p>The Lhari crew were oddly constrained at first. But Ringg was the same +as always, and before long they were almost on the old terms. With every +watch, it seemed, he was building a bridge between man and Lhari. They +accepted him.</p> + +<p>But for what? Something might come, in the far future, of his +acceptance, but he wouldn't get the benefit of it. This would be his +only voyage; after this he'd be chained again, crawling from planet to +planet of a single sun. And as warp-shift followed warp-shift, the +<i>Swiftwing</i> retracing the path of her outward cruise star by star, Bart +said farewell to them.</p> + +<p>One day, at last, he stood at the viewport, watching Procyon Alpha +nearing. A year ago, frightened, terribly alone, still unsteady on his +new Lhari muscles and terrified by the monsters that were his shipmates, +he had watched these planets spinning away. Poor old Rugel, poor old +Baldy!</p> + +<p>Behind him, Meta came into the lounge.</p> + +<p>"Bart—"</p> + +<p>He turned to face her. "It won't be much longer, Meta. Tomorrow I'll +find out what the Federation is going to do to me. <i>Conspiracy +unlawfully to board</i>—and all the rest of it. Even if I don't go to a +prison planet, I'll spend the rest of my life chained down to Vega."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't have to be that way."</p> + +<p>"What other choice is there?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"You're half Mentorian," she said, raising her eager face. "Oh, Bart, +you love it so, you know you can't bear to give it up. Stay with +us—please stay!"</p> + +<p>Before answering, he looked out the viewport a last time. The clouds of +cosmic dust swirled and foamed around the familiar jewels of his own +sky. Blue, beloved Vega, burning in the heart of the Lyre—<i>home—when +would he go home? He had no home now.</i> Yet his father had left him Vega +Interplanet, as well as Eight Colors and a quest to the stars.</p> + +<p>He searched for the topaz of Sol, where he had learned astrogation; +Procyon, where he had become a Lhari; the ruby of Aldebaran (<i>hail and +farewell, David Briscoe!</i>); the bloodstone of Antares, where he had +learned fear and the shape of integrity. The colors, the unknowable +colors of space. And others. Nameless stars where he and his Lhari +shipmates had worked and played. And stars he had never seen and would +never see, all the endless worlds beyond worlds and stars beyond +stars....</p> + +<p>He took a last, longing look at the colors of space, then turned his +back on them, deliberately giving them up. He could not pay the price +the Mentorians paid.</p> + +<p>"No, Meta," he said huskily. "The Mentorian way is one way, but—I've +had a taste of being one of the masters of space. It's more than most +men ever have, maybe it's more than I deserve. But I can't settle for +anything less. Not even if it means losing you."</p> + +<p>He shut his eyes and stood, head bowed. When he looked up again, he was +alone with the stars beyond the viewport, and the lounge was empty.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h2> + + +<p>The low rainbow building of Eight Colors, near the spaceport of Procyon +Alpha, had not changed; and when Bart went in, as he had done a year +ago, it seemed that the same varnished girl was sitting before the same +glass desk, neon-edged and brittle, with the same chrome-tinged hair and +blue fingernails. She looked at Bart in his Lhari clothing, at Meta in +her Mentorian robe and cloak, at Ringg, and her unruffled dignity did +not turn a hair.</p> + +<p>"May I help you?" she inquired, still not caring.</p> + +<p>"I want to see Raynor One."</p> + +<p>"On what business, please?"</p> + +<p>"Tell him," said Bart, with immense satisfaction, "that his boss is +here—Bart Steele—and wants to see him right away."</p> + +<p>It had a sort of disrupting effect. She seemed to go blurred at the +edges. After a minute, blinking carefully, she spoke into the +vision-screen, and reported, numbly, "Go on up, Mr. Steele."</p> + +<p>He wasn't expecting a welcome. He said so as the elevator rose. "After +all, if I'd never come back, he'd doubtless have inherited the whole +Eight Colors line, unencumbered. I don't expect he'll be happy to see +me. But he's the only one I can turn to."</p> + +<p>The elevator stopped, opened. They stepped out, and a man stepped +nervously toward them. For a moment, expecting Raynor One, Bart was +deceived; then as the man's face spread in a smile of welcome, he +stopped in incredulous delight.</p> + +<p>"Raynor Three!"</p> + +<p>In overflowing gladness, Bart hugged him. It was like a meeting with the +dead. He felt as if he had really come home. "But—but you remember me!" +he exclaimed, backing away, in amazement.</p> + +<p>Slowly, the man nodded. His eyes were grave. "Yes. I decided it wasn't +worth it, Bart, to go on losing everything that meant anything to me. +Even if it meant I had to give up the stars, never travel again except +as a passenger, I couldn't go on being afraid to remember, never knowing +the consequences or responsibilities of what I'd done." His sad smile +was strangely beautiful. "The <i>Multiphase</i> sailed without me. I've been +here, hoping against hope that someday I'd know the rest."</p> + +<p>Associations clicked into place in Bart's mind. The <i>Multiphase</i>. So +Raynor Three was the Mentorian who had smuggled David Briscoe off the +ship, and whose memories, wrung out by the Lhari captain of that ship, +had touched off so many deaths. But he had paid for that—paid many +times over. And now must he pay for this, too?</p> + +<p>Raynor One strode toward them. "So it's really you. I thought it might +be a trap, but Three wouldn't listen. Word came from Antares that +Montano had been arrested and his ship confiscated for illegal landing +on Lharillis. I thought you were probably dead."</p> + +<p>"We sent a boy to do a man's job," Raynor Three said, "and he came back +a man. But tell me—" He looked curiously at Ringg and Meta.</p> + +<p>Bart introduced them, adding, "I came for help, really. I'm facing +charges, and I'm afraid you are, too."</p> + +<p>Raynor One said harshly, "A trap, after all, Three! He trapped you, and +he's led the Lhari to you!"</p> + +<p>"No," Raynor Three said, "or he wouldn't be walking around free and +unguarded and with all his memories intact. Tell me about it, Bart." And +when Bart had given a quick narration of the Lhari judgment, he nodded, +slowly.</p> + +<p>"That's all we ever wanted. Don't think you failed, Bart. The horrible +part was only the way they were trying to keep it secret."</p> + +<p>Ringg interrupted, "Do not judge the Lhari by them, Raynor Three," and +Raynor Three said in good Lhari, "I don't, feathertop. Raynors have been +working with Lhari since the days of Rhazon of Nedrus. But I wanted an +open, official statement of Lhari policy—not secret murders by +fanatics. I had confidence in the Lhari as a people, but not in +individuals. What good did it do to know that the Lhari council in +another galaxy would have condemned the murders and manhunts, when they +were going on in this one, day after day?</p> + +<p>"Don't you see, Bart?" he continued, "you didn't fail—not if we're +going to have the publicity of a test case, publicly heard. That means +the Lhari are prepared to admit, before our whole galaxy, that humans +<i>can</i> survive warp-drive without cold-sleep. That's all David Briscoe +was trying to prove, or your father either—may they rest in peace. So, +whatever happens, we've won."</p> + +<p>"If you two idealists will give me a minute for cold realities," Raynor +One said, "there's this. Among other things. Bart's not yet of legal +age. You may not know this, Bart, but your father appointed me your +legal guardian. When I turned you over to Three, I'm afraid, I assumed +legal responsibility for all the consequences. I ought to have kept you +under my own supervision."</p> + +<p>Bart smiled at Raynor One's stern face. "I crossed two galaxies, and +faced the Lhari High Council, without you to hold my hand. I can face +the Trade Federation."</p> + +<p>"Naturally I will be responsible for your defense," Raynor One said +stiffly.</p> + +<p>"But I don't need a defense," Bart said, turning to Raynor Three and +meeting his eyes. "I'm going to tell the truth, and let it stand. Don't +worry, I'll make sure they don't hold you responsible for my actions."</p> + +<p>"Another thing. Some lunatic from Capella arrived here and all but +accused me of having you murdered. Do you know a Tommy Kendron?"</p> + +<p>"Do I <i>know</i> him!" Bart interrupted with a joyful yell. "Tommy's <i>here</i>? +Quick—where do I get in touch with him?"</p> + +<p>An hour later they were all gathered at Raynor Three's country house. +The talk went on far into the night. Tommy wanted to know everything, +and both Raynors wanted to know every detail of Bart's year among the +Lhari, while Meta and Ringg were both curious about how it had begun.</p> + +<p>Bart tried to forget that the next day might bring trouble, even +imprisonment. The Lhari Council had told him to talk as much as he liked +about his voyage, and this might be his only chance. When he had +finished, Tommy leaned forward and gripped Bart's hand tightly.</p> + +<p>"You make them sound like pretty decent people," he said, looking at +Ringg. "A year ago, if you'd told me I'd be here with a Lhari spaceman +and a bunch of Mentorians, I'd never have believed it."</p> + +<p>"Nor I, that I would be as friend under a human roof," Ringg replied. +"But a friend to Bart is my friend also." He touched the faint +discolored scars on his brow, saying softly, "But for Bart, I would not +be here to greet anyone, man or Lhari, as friend."</p> + +<p>"So," said Tommy triumphantly, "you haven't failed, even if you didn't +discover the secret of the Eighth Color—"</p> + +<p>But a sudden, blinding light burst over Bart as Ringg moved his hand to +the scars. Once again he searched a cave beneath a green star, where +Ringg lay unconscious and bleeding, and played his Lhari light fearfully +over a waterfall of colored minerals. <i>And there was one whose color he +could not identify—red, blue, violet, green, none of these</i>—the color +of an unknown star in an unknown galaxy, the shimmer of a landing Lhari +ship, the color of an unknown element in an unknown fuel—</p> + +<p>"The secret of the Eighth Color," he said, and stood up, his hands +literally shaking in excitement. "I'm an <i>idiot</i>! No, don't ask me any +questions! I could still be wrong. But even if I go to a prison planet, +the Eighth Color isn't a secret any more!"</p> + +<p>When the others had gone back to the city, he sat with Raynor Three in +the room where the latter had told him of his father's death, where he +had first seen his terrifying Lhari face. They spoke little, but Raynor +Three finally asked, "Were you serious about not wanting a defense, +Bart?"</p> + +<p>"I was. All I want is a chance to tell my own story in my own way. Where +everyone will hear me."</p> + +<p>Raynor Three looked at him curiously. "There's something you're not +telling, Bart. Want to tell me?"</p> + +<p>Bart hesitated, then held out his hand and clasped his kinsman's. +"Thanks—but no."</p> + +<p>Raynor Three saw his hesitation and chuckled. "All right, son. Forget I +asked. You've grown up."</p> + +<p>It was good to sleep in a soft human-type bed again, to eat breakfast +and shave and dress in ordinary human clothing again. But Bart folded +his Lhari tights and the cloak tenderly, with regret. They were the +memory of an experience no one else would ever have.</p> + +<p>Raynor Three let him take the controls as they flew back to the +spaceport city; and a little before noon they entered the great crystal +pylon that was the headquarters of the Federation Trade Bureau on +Procyon Alpha. Men and Lhari were moving in the lobby; among them Bart +saw Vorongil, Meta at his side. He smiled at her, received a wan smile +in return.</p> + +<p>Would Vorongil feel that Bart had deceived him, betrayed him, when he +heard Bart today?</p> + +<p>In the hearing room, four white-crested Lhari sat across from four +dignified, well-dressed men, representatives of the Federation of +Intergalactic Trade. The space beyond was wholly filled with people, +crowded together, and carrying stereo cameras, intercom equipment, the +creepie-peepie of the on-the-spot space commentator.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Steele, we had hoped to make this a quiet hearing, without undue +publicity. But we cannot deny the news media the privilege of covering +it, unless you wish to claim the right to privacy."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," Bart said clearly. "I want them all to hear what I'm going +to say."</p> + +<p>Raynor One came up to the bench. "Bart, as your guardian, I advise +against it. Some people will call this a publicity stunt. It won't do +Eight Colors any good to admit that men have been spying on the Lhari—"</p> + +<p>"I want press coverage," Bart repeated stubbornly, "and as many +star-systems on the relay as possible."</p> + +<p>"All right. But I wash my hands of it," Raynor One said angrily.</p> + +<p>Bart told his story simply: his meeting with the elder Briscoe, his +meeting with Raynor One—carefully not implicating Raynor One in the +plot—Raynor Three's work in altering his appearance to that of a Lhari, +and the major events of his cruise on the <i>Swiftwing</i>. When he came to +the account of the shift into warp-drive, he saw the faces of the press +reporters, and realized that for them this was the story of the year—or +century: <i>humans can endure star-drive!</i> But he went on, not +soft-pedaling Montano's attempted murder, his own choice, the trip to +the Lhari world—</p> + +<p>One of the board representatives interrupted testily, "What is the point +of this lengthy narrative? You can give the story to the newsmen without +our official sanction, if you want to make it a heroic epic, young +Steele. We have heard sufficient to prove your guilt, and that of +Raynor, in the violation of treaty—"</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, I want this official," Bart said. "I don't want to be +mobbed when they hear that I have the secret of the star-drive."</p> + +<p>The effect was electric. The four Lhari sat up; their white crests +twitched. Vorongil stared, his gray eyes darkening with fear. One of the +Lhari leaned forward, shooting the question at him harshly.</p> + +<p>"You did <i>not</i> discover the coordinates of the Council Planet of Ke +Lhiro! You did not discover—"</p> + +<p>"I did not," Bart said quietly. "I don't know them and I have no +intention of trying to find them. We don't need to go to the Lhari +Galaxy to find the mineral that generates the warp-frequencies, that +they call 'Catalyst A' and that the Mentorians call the 'Eighth Color.' +There is a green star called Meristem, and a spectroscopic analysis of +that star, I'm sure, will reveal what unknown elements it contains, and +perhaps locate other stars with that element. There must be others in +our galaxy, but the coordinates of the star Meristem are known to me."</p> + +<p>Vorongil was staring at him, his mouth open. He leaped up and cried out, +shaking, "But they assured us that among your memories—there was +nothing of danger to us—"</p> + +<p>Compassionately, gently, Bart said, "There wasn't—not that they knew +about, Vorongil. I didn't realize it myself. I might never have +remembered seeing a mineral that was of a color not found in the +spectrum. Certainly, a memory like that meant nothing to the Lhari +medics who emptied out my mind and turned over all my thoughts. You +Lhari can't see color at all.</p> + +<p>"So no one but I saw the color of the mineral in the cave; you Lhari +yourselves don't <i>know</i> that your fuel looks unlike anything else in the +universe. You never cared to find out how your world looked to your +Mentorians. So your medics never questioned my memories of an eighth +color. To you, it's just another shade of gray, but under a light strong +enough to blind any but Mentorian eyes, it takes on a special color—"</p> + +<p>The conference broke up in disorder, the four Lhari clustering together +in a furious babble, then hastily leaving the room. Bart stood waiting, +feeling empty and cold. Vorongil's stare baffled him with unreadable +emotion.</p> + +<p>"You fool, you unspeakable young idiot!" Raynor One groaned. "Why did +you blurt it out like that before every news media in the galaxy? Why, +we could have had a monopoly on the star-drive—Eight Colors and Vega +Interplanet!" As he saw the men of the press approaching with their +microphones, lights, cameras and TV equipment, he gripped Bart urgently +by the arm.</p> + +<p>"We can still salvage something! Don't talk any more! Refer them to +me—say I'm your guardian and your business manager—you can still make +something of this—"</p> + +<p>"That's just what I don't want to do," Bart replied, and broke away from +him to approach the newsmen.</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly, I'll answer all your questions, gentlemen."</p> + +<p>Raynor One flung up his hands in despair, but over their shoulder he saw +the glowing face of Meta, and smiled. She, at least, would understand. +So would Raynor Three.</p> + +<p>A page boy touched Bart on the arm. "Mr. Steele," he said, "you are to +appear immediately before the World Council!"</p> + +<p>He was to be asked one question again and again in the days that +followed, but his real answer was to Meta and Raynor Three, looking +quietly past Raynor One and speaking to the news cameras that would +carry his words all over the galaxy to men and Lhari:</p> + +<p>"Why didn't I keep it for myself? Because there are always men like +Montano, who in their mistaken pride will murder and steal for such +things. I want this knowledge to be open to all men, to be used for +their benefit. There has been too much secrecy already. I want all men +to have the stars."</p> + +<p>He had to tell his story again and again to the hastily summoned +representatives of the Galactic Federation. At one point the delegate +from his home star of Vega actually rose and shouted to him, "This is +treason! You betrayed your home world—and the whole human race! Don't +you know the Lhari may fight a war over this?"</p> + +<p>Bart remembered Vorongil's silent, sad confession of the Lhari fears.</p> + +<p>"No," he said gently. "No. There won't be any war unless we start one. +The Lhari won't start any war. Believe me."</p> + +<p>But inwardly, he sweated. What <i>would</i> the Lhari do?</p> + +<p>They had to wait for representatives of the Lhari Council to make the +journey from their home galaxy; meanwhile they kept Bart in protective +custody. There was, of course, no question of sending him to a "prison +planet"; public opinion would have crucified any government that +suggested punishment for the man who had discovered a human world with +deposits of Catalyst A. Bart could claim an "explorer's share," and +Raynor One had lost no time in filing that claim on his behalf.</p> + +<p>But he was lonely and anxious. They had confined him to a set of rooms +high in the building overlooking the spaceport; from the balcony he +could see the ships landing and departing. Life went on, ships came and +went, and out there in the vast night of space, the suns and colors +flamed and rolled, heedless of the little atoms that traveled and +intrigued between them.</p> + +<p>A night came when the buzzer sounded and he opened the door to Raynor +One and Raynor Three.</p> + +<p>"Better turn on your vision-screen, Bart. The Elder of the Lhari Council +has arrived with their official decision, and he's going to announce +it."</p> + +<p>Bart waited, anxiously, pacing the room, while on the TV screen various +dignitaries presented the Elder.</p> + +<p>"We are the first race to travel the stars." A bald head, an ancient +Lhari face seamed like glazed pottery, looked at Bart from the screen, +and Bart remembered when he had stood before that face, sick with +defeat. But now he need not pretend to hold his head erect.</p> + +<p>"We have had a long and triumphant time as masters of the stars," the +Lhari said. "But triumph and power will sicken and stagnate the race +which holds them too long unchallenged. We reached this point once +before. Then a Lhari captain, Rhazon of Nedrun, abandoned the safe ways +of caution, and out of his blind leap in the blind dark came many good +things. Trade with the human race. Our Mentorian allies. A system of +mathematics to take the hazards from our star-travel.</p> + +<p>"Yet once again the Lhari had grown cautious and fearful. And a young +man named Bartol took a blind leap into unknown darkness, all alone—"</p> + +<p>"Not alone," Bart said as if to himself, "it took two men called +Briscoe. And my father. And a couple of Raynors. And even a man called +Montano, because without that, I'd never have decided—"</p> + +<p>"Like Rhazon of Nedrun, like all pioneers, this young man has been +cursed by his own people, the very ones who will one day benefit from +his daring. He has found his people a firm footing among the stars. It +is too late for the Lhari to regret that we did not sooner extend you +the hand of welcome there. You have climbed, unaided, to join us. For +good or ill, we must make room for you.</p> + +<p>"But there is room for all. Competition is the lifeblood of trade, and +we face the future without fear, knowing that life still holds many +surprises for the living. I say to you: welcome to the stars."</p> + +<p>Even while Bart stood speechless with the knowledge of success, the door +opened again, and Bart, turning, cried out in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Tommy! Ringg! Meta!"</p> + +<p>"Sure," Tommy exclaimed, "we've got to celebrate," but Bart stopped, +looking past them.</p> + +<p>"Captain Vorongil!" he said, and went to greet the old Lhari. "I thought +you'd hate me, <i>rieko mori</i>." The term of respect fell naturally from +his lips.</p> + +<p>"I did, for a time," Vorongil said quietly. "But I remembered the day we +stood on Lharillis, by the monument. And that you risked—perhaps your +life, certainly your eyesight—to save us from death. So when the Elder +asked for my estimate of your people, I gave it."</p> + +<p>"I thought it sounded like you." Bart felt that his happiness was +complete.</p> + +<p>"And now," Ringg cried, "let's celebrate! Meta, you haven't even told +him that he's free!"</p> + +<p>But while the party got rolling, Bart wondered—free for what? And +after a little while he went out on the balcony and stood looking +down at the spaceport, where the <i>Swiftwing</i> lay in shadow, huge, +beloved—renounced.</p> + +<p>"What now, Bartol?" Vorongil's quiet voice asked from his elbow. "You're +famous—notorious. You're going to be rich, and a celebrity."</p> + +<p>"I was wishing I could get away until the excitement dies down."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Vorongil, "why don't you? The <i>Swiftwing</i> ships out +tonight, Bartol—for Antares and beyond. It will be a couple of years +before your Eight Colors can be made over into an Interstellar line—and +as Raynor One has said to me several times, he'll have to handle all +those details, for you're not of age yet.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking. Now that we Lhari must share space with your +people, you'll need experienced men for your ships. Unless we all want +the disasters born of trial and error, we Lhari had better help you +train your men quickly and well. I want you to go back on the +<i>Swiftwing</i> with me. Not an apprentice, but representative of Eight +Colors, to act as liaison between men and Lhari—at least until your own +affairs claim your attention."</p> + +<p>Behind them on the balcony, Tommy appeared, making signals to Bart: "Say +yes! Say yes, Bart! <i>I</i> did!"</p> + +<p>Bart's eyes suddenly filled. Out of defeat he had won success beyond his +greatest hopes. But he did not feel all glad; he felt only a heavy +responsibility. Whether good or bad came of the gift he had snatched +from the stars, would rest in large measure on his own shoulders. He was +going back to space—to learn the responsibility that went with it.</p> + +<p>"I accept," he said gravely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, boy!" Tommy dragged Ringg into a sort of war dance of exuberant +celebration, pointing at the flaring glow of the spaceport gates. "Here, +by grace of the Lhari, stands the doorway to all the stars," he quoted. +"Well, maybe you were here first. But look out—we're coming!"</p> + +<p>A doorway to the stars. Bart had crossed that doorway once, frightened +and alone. <i>Dad, if you could only know!</i> The first interstellar ship of +Eight Colors was to bear the name <i>Rupert Steele</i>, but that was years in +the future.</p> + +<p>Now, looking at the <i>Swiftwing</i>, at Ringg and Tommy, at Raynor Three and +Vorongil, who would all be his shipmates in the new world they were +building, he felt suddenly very lonely again.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Bart. It's your party," Meta said softly, and he felt her hand +lying in his. He looked down at the pretty Mentorian girl. She would be +with him, too. And suddenly he knew he would never be lonely again.</p> + +<p>His arm around Meta, his friends—man and Lhari—at his shoulder, he +went back to the celebration, to plan for the first intergalactic voyage +to the stars.</p> + + +<p>The End</p> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="AUTHORS_PROFILE" id="AUTHORS_PROFILE"></a>AUTHOR'S PROFILE</h2> + +<p>Marion Zimmer Bradley was born in Albany, New York and before she +started her writing career she was a file clerk, music teacher and a +carnival performer. Her hobbies are reading science fiction novels, +going to the opera and listening to folk music.</p> + +<p>In addition to having written a number of other books, she has written +more than 30 magazine stories and articles and has been writing +professionally for the past ten years.</p> + + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h2><a name="OTHER_SIGNIFICANT_MONARCH_BOOKS" id="OTHER_SIGNIFICANT_MONARCH_BOOKS"></a>OTHER SIGNIFICANT MONARCH BOOKS</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><i>A Terrifying Tale Of Horror In The Skies</i></h4> + + +<h3>THE FLYING EYES</h3> + +<h4>By J. Hunter Holly</h4> + +<h4>Author of ENCOUNTER and THE GREEN PLANET</h4> + + +<p>Linc Hosler was sitting in a packed football stadium when the Flying +Eyes appeared and cast their hypnotic power over half the crowd. +Thousands of people suddenly began marching zombie-like into the woods +where they vanished into a black pit.</p> + +<p>Linc used every resource of the Space Research Lab and the National +Guard to destroy the Eyes. But nothing could stop them, for they proved +immune to bullets and bombs.</p> + +<p>In desperation, Linc captured an Eye and found a way to communicate with +it through his mind. He learned that radiation was fuel for the +creatures' lives. And then they issued their terrible ultimatum: Explode +a series of atom bombs to supply them with radiation or they would turn +the world's population into mindless robots.</p> + +<p>It gave the world two harrowing choices—self-destruction via fallout +from the bombs or annihilation via the sinister Flying Eyes....</p> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><i>The Dramatic Life Story Of The Second Most Powerful Man In Washington</i></h4> + + +<h3>ROBERT F. KENNEDY<br /> +Assistant President</h3> + +<h4>By Gary Gordon</h4> + +<h4>Author of THE RISE AND FALL OF THE JAPANESE EMPIRE</h4> + + +<p>Whatever accomplishments can be attributed to John F. Kennedy, some of +the credit must go to his brother Bobby, for, as campaign manager in the +last election, the younger Kennedy had a great deal to do with getting +his brother nominated and then elected.</p> + +<p>Coming into prominence via his work as Chief Counsel to the McClellan +Committee, he has proven to be a tough fighter and the possessor of an +overwhelming will to win. Now, in his dual role as Attorney General and +adviser to the President, he is a power to be reckoned with.</p> + +<p>Here is the life story of Robert F. Kennedy, the President's "chief +trouble-shooter, crisis smoother and selfless rooter" (<i>Look</i>); the man +who is "second only to the President in power and influence" (<i>U.S. News +and World Report</i>): the man who may be eyeing the White House for his +own future occupancy.</p> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><i>Dramatic True Tales Of Courageous Marines, Army, Air Force And Navy Men +Whose Exploits Won Them The Congressional Medal Of Honor</i></h4> + + +<h3>America's War Heroes</h3> + +<h4>By Jay Scott</h4> + + +<p>No specific class, rank or service has a monopoly on bravery. Every +milieu, every nationality seems to spawn, on occasion, a man capable of +action above and beyond the call of duty.</p> + + +<p>THE HONOR ROLL</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lt. Col. James Doolittle U.S. Air Corps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T/Sgt. Charles (Commando) Kelly U.S. Army<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chaplain Joseph O'Callahan U.S. Navy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Major Gregory (Pappy) Boyington U.S. Marines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">1st Lt. Audie Murphy U.S. Army<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Capt. Joseph Foss U.S. Marines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commander Samuel Dealey U.S. Navy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sergeant John Basilone U.S. Marines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Private Rodger Young U.S. Army<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Here are their stories, told with a wealth of dramatic and unforgettable +detail, showing the caliber of the men who served our country in time of +national peril.</p> + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><i>Compelling Stories Of The Exploits Of Marine Winners Of The Congressional Medal Of Honor</i></h4> + + +<h3>MARINE WAR HEROES</h3> + +<h4>By Jay Scott</h4> + +<h4>Author of AMERICA'S WAR HEROES</h4> + + +<p>No group of fighting men has shown more bravery and resourcefulness than +the U.S. Marines. Rushed to the hot spots of the world in time of war, +they hare consistently shown a disdain for personal safety, always +playing a vital role in our country's victories.</p> + +<p>Standing even taller, were the men among them who somehow managed to be +heroes among heroes, men whose exploits were extraordinary—the +Congressional Medal of Honor winners.</p> + +<p>A total of 234 Marines have been awarded The Congressional Medal of +Honor. Here in this dramatic book are exciting, personalized accounts of +some of the most courageous exploits of the heroes of the greatest +fighting force the world has ever known.</p> + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4>OTHER SIGNIFICANT MONARCH BOOKS</h4> + + +<p>MS18 WHAT'S WRONG WITH U.S. FOREIGN POLICY? by Frank L. Kluckholm</p> + +<p>MS17 SKIN AND SCUBA DIVING by Richard Hardwick</p> + +<p>MS16 THE CRISIS IN CUBA by Thomas Freeman</p> + +<p>MS15 THERMONUCLEAR WARFARE by Poul Anderson</p> + +<p>MS14 THE REAL STORY ON CUBA by James Bayard</p> + +<p>MS13 HOW TO STAY YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL by Jan Michael</p> + +<p>MS11 THE RED CARPET by Ezra Taft Benson A grim warning against +socialism—the royal road to communism.</p> + +<p>MS10 THE HISTORY OF SURGERY by L. T. Woodward, M.D.</p> + +<p>MS9 A GALLERY OF THE SAINTS by Randall Garrett</p> + +<p>MS8 THE COLD WAR by Deane and David Heller</p> + +<p>MS7 FORGET ABOUT CALORIES by Leland H. O'Brian</p> + +<p>MS6 THE NAKED RISE OF COMMUNISM by Frank L. Kluckholm</p> + +<p>MS5 PLANNED PARENTHOOD by Henry De Forrest, M.D.</p> + +<p>MS4 THE RISE AND FALL OF THE JAPANESE EMPIRE by Gary Gordon</p> + +<p>MS3B AMERICA: LISTEN! by Frank Kluckholm (Second new enlarged edition. +Completely updated.) An honest report to the nation on the current chaos +in Washington.</p> + +<p>MS2 THE BERLIN CRISIS by Deane and David Heller</p> + +<p>K69 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF THE WORLD'S GREAT EVENTS: 1936 by D. S. Halacy, Jr.</p> + +<p>K68 THE FABULOUS ROCKEFELLERS by Robert Silverberg</p> + +<p>K65 S O S: THE WORLD'S GREAT SEA DISASTERS by Keith Jameson</p> + +<p>K59 POPE JOHN XXIII: PASTORAL PRINCE by Randall Garrett</p> + +<p>K56 SIR WINSTON CHURCHILL by Edgar Black</p> + +<p>MA350 U. S. NAVY IN ACTION by John Clagett</p> + +<p>MA329 MARINE WAR HEROES by Jay Scott</p> + +<p>MA321 TARAWA by Tom Bailey 50¢</p> + +<p>MA319 U.S. MARINES IN ACTION by T. R. Fehrenbach</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Colors of Space, by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COLORS OF SPACE *** + +***** This file should be named 20796-h.htm or 20796-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/7/9/20796/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Colors of Space + +Author: Marion Zimmer Bradley + +Release Date: March 11, 2007 [EBook #20796] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COLORS OF SPACE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + _A Juvenile Science Fiction Novel_ + + THE COLORS OF SPACE + + Marion Zimmer Bradley + + + + +MONARCH BOOKS, INC. +Derby, Connecticut + +Published in August, 1963 +Copyright 1963 by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +[Transcriber's note: This is a rule 6 clearance. PG has not been able +to find a copyright renewal.] + +_Cover Painting by Ralph Brillhart_ + +Monarch Books are published by MONARCH BOOKS, INC., Capital Building, +Derby, Connecticut, and represent the works of outstanding novelists and +writers of non-fiction especially chosen for their literary merit and +reading entertainment. + +Printed in the United States of America +All Rights Reserved + + + + +To +DAVID STEPHEN + + + + +SUDDEN PANIC + + +It was a week before the Lhari ship went into warp-drive, and all that +time young Bart Steele had stayed in his cabin. He was so bored with his +own company that the Mentorian medic was a welcome sight when he came to +prepare him for _cold-sleep_. + +The Mentorian paused, needle in hand. "Do you wish to be wakened for the +time we shall spend in each of the three star systems, sir? You can, of +course, be given enough drug to keep you in cold-sleep until we reach +your destination." + +Bart felt tempted--he wanted very much to see the other star systems. +But he couldn't risk meeting other passengers. + +The needle went into his arm. In sudden panic, he realized he was +helpless. The ship would touch down on three worlds, and on any of them +the Lhari might have his description, or his alias! He could be taken +off, unconscious, and might never wake up! He tried to move, to protest, +but he couldn't. There was a freezing moment of intense cold and then +nothing.... + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + + +The Lhari spaceport didn't belong on Earth. + +Bart Steele had thought that, a long time ago, when he first saw it. He +had been just a kid then; twelve years old, and all excited about seeing +Earth for the first time--Earth, the legendary home of mankind before +the Age of Space, the planet of Bart's far-back ancestors. And the first +thing he'd seen on Earth, when he got off the starship, was the Lhari +spaceport. + +And he'd thought, right then, _It doesn't belong on Earth._ + +He'd said so to his father, and his father's face had gone strange, +bitter and remote. + +"A lot of people would agree with you, Son," Captain Rupert Steele had +said softly. "The trouble is, if the Lhari spaceport wasn't on Earth, we +wouldn't be on Earth either. Remember that." + +Bart remembered it, five years later, as he got off the strip of moving +sidewalk. He turned to wait for Tommy Kendron, who was getting his +baggage off the center strip of the moving roadway. Bart Steele and +Tommy Kendron had graduated together, the day before, from the Space +Academy of Earth. Now Tommy, who had been born on the ninth planet of +the star Capella, was taking the Lhari starship to his faraway home, and +Bart's father was coming back to Earth, on the same starship, to meet +his son. + +_Five years,_ Bart thought. _That's a long time. I wonder if Dad will +know me?_ + +"Let me give you a hand with that stuff, Tommy." + +"I can manage," Tommy chuckled, hefting the plastic cases. "They don't +allow you much baggage weight on the Lhari ships. Certainly not more +than I can handle." + +The two lads stood in front of the spaceport gate for a minute. Over the +gate, which was high and pointed and made of some clear colorless +material like glass, was a jagged symbol resembling a flash of +lightning; the sign, in Lhari language, for the home world of the Lhari. + +They walked through the pointed glass gate, and stood for a moment, by +mutual consent, looking down over the vast expanse of the Lhari +spaceport. + +This had once been a great desert. Now it was all floored in with some +strange substance that was neither glass, metal nor concrete; it looked +like gleaming crystal--though it felt soft underfoot--and in the glare +of the noonday sun, it gave back the glare in a million rainbow flashes. +Tommy put his hands up to his eyes to shield them. "The Lhari must have +funny eyes, if they can stand all this glare!" + +Inside the glass gate, a man in a guard's uniform gave them each a pair +of dark glasses. "Put them on now, boys. And don't look directly at the +ship when it lands." + +Tommy hooked the earpieces of the dark glasses over his ears, and sighed +with relief. Bart frowned, but finally put them on. Bart's mother had +been a Mentorian--from the planet Mentor, of the star Deneb, a hundred +times brighter than the sun. Bart had her eyes. But Mentorians weren't +popular on Earth, and Bart had learned to be quiet about his mother. + +Through the dark lenses, the glare was only a pale gleam. Far out in the +very center of the spaceport, a high, clear-glass skyscraper rose, +catching the sunlight in a million colors. Around the building, small +copters and robotcabs veered, discharging passengers; and the moving +sidewalks were crowded with people coming and going. Here and there in +the crowd, standing out because of their height and the silvery metallic +cloaks they wore, were the strange tall figures of the Lhari. + +"Well, how about going down?" Tommy glanced impatiently at his +timepiece. "Less than half an hour before the starship touches down." + +"All right. We can get a sidewalk over here." Reluctantly, Bart tore his +eyes from the fascinating spectacle, and followed Tommy, stepping onto +one of the sidewalks. It bore them down a long, sloping ramp toward the +floor of the spaceport, then sped toward the glass skyscraper; came to +rest at the wide pointed doors, depositing them in the midst of the +crowd. The jagged lightning flash was there over the doors of the +building, and the words: + + HERE, BY THE GRACE OF THE LHARI, IS THE DOORWAY TO ALL THE STARS. + +Bart remembered, as if it were yesterday, how he and his father had +first passed through this doorway. And his father, looking up, had said +under his breath "Not for always, Son. Someday men will have a doorway +to the stars, and the Lhari won't be standing in the door." + +Inside the building, it was searingly bright. The high open rotunda was +filled with immense mirrors, and glass ramps running up and down, moving +staircases, confusing signs and flashing lights on tall oddly shaped +pillars. The place was crowded with men from all over the planet, but +the dark glasses they all wore gave them a strange sort of family +resemblance. + +Tommy said, "I'd better check my reservations." + +Bart nodded. "Meet you on the upper level later," he said, and got on a +moving staircase that soared slowly upward, past level after level, +toward the information desk located on the topmost mezzanine. + +The staircase moved slowly, and Bart had plenty of time to see +everything. On the step immediately in front of him, two Lhari were +standing; with their backs turned, they might almost have been men. +Unusually tall, unusually thin, but men. Then Bart amended that +mentally. The Lhari had two arms, two legs and a head apiece--they were +that much like men. Their faces had two eyes, two ears, and a nose and +mouth, all in the right places. But the similarity ended there. + +They had skin of a curious pale silvery gray, and pale, pure-white hair +rising in what looked like a feathery crest. The eyes were long and +slanting, the forehead high and narrow, the nose delicately thin and +chiseled with long vertically slit nostrils, the ears long, pointed and +lobeless. The mouth looked almost human, though the chin was abnormally +pointed. The hands would almost have passed inspection as human +hands--except for the long, triangular nails curved over the fingertips +like the claws of a cat. They wore skin-tight clothes of some metallic +silky stuff, and long flowing gleaming silvery capes. They looked +unearthly, elfin and strange, and in their own way they were beautiful. + +The two Lhari in front of Bart had been talking softly, in their fast +twittering speech; but as the hum of the crowds on the upper levels grew +louder, they raised their voices, and Bart could hear what they were +saying. He was a little surprised to find that he could still understand +the Lhari language. He hadn't heard a word of it in years--not since his +Mentorian mother died. The Lhari would never guess that he could +understand their speech. Not one human in a million could speak or +understand a dozen words of Lhari, except the Mentorians. + +"Do you really think that _human_--" the first Lhari spoke the word as +if it were a filthy insult--"will have the temerity to come in by this +ship?" + +"No reasonable being can tell what _humans_ will do," said the second +Lhari. "But then, no reasonable being can tell what our own Port +Authorities will do either! If the message had only reached us sooner, +it would have been easier. Now I suppose it will have to clear through a +dozen officials and a dozen different kinds of formalities." + +The younger Lhari sounded angry. "And we have only a description--no +name, nothing! How do they expect us to do anything under those +conditions? What I can't understand is how it ever happened, or how the +man managed to get away. What worries me is the possibility that he may +have communicated with others we don't know about. Those bungling fools +who let the first man get away can't even be sure--" + +"Do not speak of it here," said the old Lhari sharply. "There are +Mentorians in the crowd who might understand us." He turned and looked +straight at Bart, and Bart felt as if the slanted strange eyes were +looking right through to his bones. The Lhari said, in Universal, "Who +are you, boy? What iss your businesssses here?" + +Bart replied in the same language, politely, "My father's coming in on +this ship. I'm looking for the information desk." + +"Up there," said the old Lhari, pointing with a clawed hand, and lost +interest in Bart. He said to his companion, in their own language, +"Always, I regret these episodes. I have no malice against humans. I +suppose even this Vegan that we are seeking has young, and a mate, who +will regret his loss." + +"Then he should not have pried into Lhari matters," said the younger +Lhari fiercely. "If they'd killed him right away--" + +The soaring staircase swooped up to the top level; the two Lhari stepped +off and mingled swiftly with the crowd, being lost to sight. Bart +whistled in dismay as he got off and turned toward the information desk. +A Vegan! Some poor guy from his own planet was in trouble with the +Lhari. He felt a cold, crawling chill down his insides. The Lhari had +spoken regretfully, but the way they'd speak of a fly they couldn't +manage to swat fast enough. Sooner or later you had to get down to it, +they just weren't human! + +Here on Earth, nothing much could happen, of course. They wouldn't let +the Lhari hurt anyone--then Bart remembered his course in Universal Law. +The Lhari spaceport in every system, by treaty, was Lhari territory. +Once you walked beneath the lightning-flash sign, the authority of the +planet ceased to function; you might as well be on that unbelievably +remote world in another galaxy that was the Lhari home planet--that +world no human had ever seen. On a Lhari spaceport, or on a Lhari ship, +you were under the jurisdiction of Lhari law. + +Tommy stepped off a moving stair and joined him. "The ship's on time--it +reported past Luna City a few minutes ago. I'm thirsty--how about a +drink?" + +There was a refreshment stand on this level; they debated briefly +between orange juice and a drink with a Lhari name that meant simply +_cold sweet_, and finally decided to try it. The name proved +descriptive; it was very cold, very sweet and indescribably delicious. + +"Does this come from the Lhari world, I wonder?" + +"I imagine it's synthetic," Bart said. + +"I suppose it won't _hurt_ us?" + +Bart laughed. "They wouldn't serve it to us if it would. No, men and +Lhari are alike in a lot of ways. They breathe the same air. Eat about +the same food." Their bodies were adjusted to about the same gravity. +They had the same body chemistry--in fact, you couldn't tell Lhari blood +from human, even under a microscope. And in the terrible Orion Spaceport +wreck sixty years ago, doctors had found that blood plasma from humans +could be used for wounded Lhari, and vice versa, though it wasn't safe +to transfuse whole blood. But then, even among humans there were five +blood types. + +And yet, for all their likeness, they were _different_. + +Bart sipped the cold Lhari drink, seeing himself in the mirror behind +the refreshment stand; a tall teen-ager, looking older than his +seventeen years. He was lithe and well muscled from five years of sports +and acrobatics at the Space Academy, he had curling red hair and gray +eyes, and he was almost as tall as a Lhari. + +_Will Dad know me? I was just a little kid when he left me here, and now +I'm grown-up._ + +Tommy grinned at him in the mirror. "What are you going to do, now we've +finished our so-called education?" + +"What do you think? Go back to Vega with Dad, by Lhari ship, and help +him run Vega Interplanet. Why else would I bother with all that +astrogation and math?" + +"You're the lucky one, with your father owning a dozen ships! He must be +almost as rich as the Lhari." + +Bart shook his head. "It's not that easy. Space travel inside a system +these days is small stuff; all the real travel and shipping goes to the +Lhari ships." + +It was a sore point with everyone. Thousands of years ago, men had +spread out from Earth--first to the planets, then to the nearer stars, +crawling in ships that could travel no faster than the speed of light. +They had even believed that was an absolute limit--that nothing in the +universe could exceed the speed of light. It took years to go from Earth +to the nearest star. + +But they'd done it. From the nearer stars, they had sent out colonizing +ships all through the galaxy. Some vanished and were never heard from +again, but some made it, and in a few centuries man had spread all over +hundreds of star-systems. + +And then man met the people of the Lhari. + +It was a big universe, with measureless millions of stars, and plenty of +room for more than two intelligent civilizations. It wasn't surprising +that the Lhari, who had only been traveling space for a couple of +thousand years themselves, had never come across humans before. But they +had been delighted to meet another intelligent race--and it was +extremely profitable. + +Because men were still held, mostly, to the planets of their own +star-systems. Ships traveling between the stars by light-drive were rare +and ruinously expensive. But the Lhari had the warp-drive, and almost +overnight the whole picture changed. By warp-drive, hundreds of times +faster than light at peak, the years-long trip between Vega and Earth, +for instance, was reduced to about three months, at a price anyone could +pay. Mankind could trade and travel all over their galaxy, but they did +it on Lhari ships. The Lhari had an absolute, unbreakable monopoly on +star travel. + +"That's what hurts," Tommy said. "It wouldn't do us any good to have the +star-drive. Humans can't stand faster-than-light travel, except in +cold-sleep." + +Bart nodded. The Lhari ships traveled at normal speeds, like the regular +planetary ships, inside each star-system. Then, at the borders of the +vast gulf of emptiness between stars, they went into warp-drive; but +first, every human on board was given the cold-sleep treatment that +placed them in suspended animation, allowing their bodies to endure the +warp-drive. + +He finished his drink. The increasing bustle in the crowds below them +told him that time must be getting short. A tall, impressive-looking +Lhari strode through the crowd, followed at a respectful distance by two +Mentorians, tall, redheaded humans wearing metallic cloaks like those of +the Lhari. Tommy nudged Bart, his face bitter. + +"Look at those lousy Mentorians! How can they do it? Fawning upon the +Lhari that way, yet they're as human as we are! _Slaves_ of the Lhari!" + +Bart felt the involuntary surge of anger, instantly controlled. "It's +not that way at all. My mother was a Mentorian, remember. She made five +cruises on a Lhari ship before she married my father." + +Tommy sighed. "I guess I'm just jealous--to think the Mentorians can +sign on the Lhari ship as crew, while you and I will never pilot a ship +between the stars. What did she do?" + +"She was a mathematician. Before the Lhari met up with men, they used a +system of mathematics as clumsy as the old Roman numerals. You have to +admire them, when you realize that they learned stellar navigation with +their old system, though most ships use human math now. And of course, +you know their eyes aren't like ours. Among other things, they're +color-blind. They see everything in shades of black or white or gray. + +"So they found out that humans aboard their ships were useful. You +remember how humans, in the early days in space, used certain birds, who +were more sensitive to impure air than they were. When the birds keeled +over, they could tell it was time for humans to start looking over the +air systems! The Lhari use Mentorians to identify colors for them. And, +since Mentor was the first planet of humans that the Lhari had contact +with, they've always been closer to them." + +Tommy looked after the two Mentorians enviously. "The fact is, I'd ship +out with the Lhari myself if I could. Wouldn't you?" + +Bart's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "No," he said. "I could--I'm half +Mentorian, I can even speak Lhari." + +"Why don't you? I would." + +"Oh, no, you wouldn't," Bart said softly. "Not even very many Mentorians +will. You see, the Lhari don't trust humans too much. In the early days, +men were always planting spies on Lhari ships, to try and steal the +secret of warp-drive. They never managed it, but nowadays the Lhari give +all the Mentorians what amounts to a brainwashing--deep hypnosis, before +and after every voyage, so that they can neither look for anything that +might threaten the Lhari monopoly of space, nor reveal it--even under a +truth drug--if they find it out. + +"You have to be pretty fanatical about space travel to go through that. +Oh, my mother could tell us a lot of things about her cruises with the +Lhari. The Lhari can't tell a diamond from a ruby, except by +spectrographic analysis, for instance. And she--" + +A high gong note sounded somewhere, touching off an explosion of warning +bells and buzzers all over the enormous building. Bart looked up. + +"The ship must be coming in to land." + +"I'd better check into the passenger side," Tommy said. He stuck out his +hand. "Well, Bart, I guess this is where we say good-bye." + +They shook hands, their eyes meeting for a moment in honest grief. In +some indefinable way, this parting marked the end of their boyhood. + +"Good luck, Tom. I'm going to miss you." + +They wrung each other's hands again, hard. Then Tommy picked up his +luggage and started down a sloping ramp toward an enclosure marked TO +PASSENGER ENTRANCE. + +Warning bells rang again. The glare intensified until the glow in the +sky was unendurable, but Bart looked anyhow, making out the strange +shape of the Lhari ship from the stars. + +It was huge and strange, glowing with colors Bart had never seen before. +It settled down slowly, softly: enormous, silent, vibrating, glowing; +then swiftly faded to white-hot, gleaming blue, dulling down through the +visible spectrum to red. At last it was just gleaming glassy Lhari-metal +color again. High up in the ship's side a yawning gap slid open, +extruding stairsteps, and men and Lhari began to descend. + +Bart ran down a ramp and surged out on the field with the crowd. His +eyes, alert for his father's tall figure, noted with surprise that the +ship's stairs were guarded by four cloaked Lhari, each with a Mentorian +interpreter. They were stopping each person who got off the starship, +asking for identity papers. Bart realized he was seeing another segment +of the same drama he had overheard discussed, and wished he knew what it +was all about. + +The crowd was thinning now. Robotcabs were swerving in, hovering above +the ground to pick up passengers, then veering away. The gap in the +starship's side was closing, and still Bart had not seen the tall, slim, +flame-haired figure of his father. The port on the other side of the +ship, he knew, was for loading passengers. Bart moved carefully through +the thinning crowd, almost to the foot of the stairs. One of the Lhari +checking papers stopped and fixed him with an inscrutable gray stare, +but finally turned away again. + +Bart began really to worry. Captain Steele would never miss his ship! +But he saw only one disembarking passenger who had not yet been +surrounded by a group of welcoming relatives, or summoned a robotcab and +gone. The man was wearing Vegan clothes, but he wasn't Bart's father. He +was a fat little man, with ruddy cheeks and a fringe of curling gray +hair all around his bald dome. _Maybe he'd know if there was another +Vegan on the ship._ + +Then Bart realized that the little fat man was staring straight at him. +He returned the man's smile, rather hesitantly; then blinked, for the +fat man was coming straight toward him. + +"Hello, Son," the fat man said loudly. Then, as two of the Lhari started +toward him, the strange man did an incredible thing. He reached out his +two hands and grabbed Bart. + +"Well, boy, you've sure grown," he said, in a loud, cheerful voice, "but +you're not too grown-up to give your old Dad a good hug, are you?" He +pulled Bart roughly into his arms. Bart started to pull away and stammer +that the fat man had made a mistake, but the pudgy hand gripped his +wrist with unexpected strength. + +"Bart, listen to me," the stranger whispered, in a harsh fast voice. "Go +along with this or we're both dead. See those two Lhari watching us? +Call me Dad, good and loud, if you want to live. Because, believe me, +your life's in danger--right now!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +For a moment, pulled off balance in the fat stranger's hug, Bart +remained perfectly still, while the man repeated in that loud, jovial +voice, "How you've grown!" He let him go, stepping away a pace or two, +and whispered urgently, "Say something. And take that stupid look off +your face." + +As he stepped back, Bart saw his eyes. In the chubby, good-natured red +face, the stranger's eyes were half-mad with fear. + +In a split second, Bart remembered the two Lhari and their talk of a +fugitive. In that moment, Bart Steele grew up. + +He stepped toward the man and took him quickly by the shoulders. + +"Dad, you sure surprised me," he said, trying to keep his voice from +shaking. "Been such a long time, I'd--half forgotten what you looked +like. Have a good trip?" + +"About like always." The fat man was breathing hard, but his voice +sounded firm and cheerful. "Can't compare with a trip on the old +_Asterion_ though." The _Asterion_ was the flagship of Vega Interplanet, +Rupert Steele's own ship. "How's everything?" + +Beads of sweat were standing out on the man's ruddy forehead, and his +grip on Bart's wrist was so hard it hurt. Bart, grasping at random for +something to say, gabbled, "Too bad you couldn't get to my graduation. I +made th-third in a class of four hundred--" + +The Lhari had surrounded them and were closing in. + +The fat man took a deep breath or two, said, "Just a minute, Son," and +turned around. "You want something?" + +The tallest of the Lhari--the old one, whom Bart had seen on the +escalator--looked long and hard at him. When they spoke Universal, their +voices were sibilant, but not nearly so inhuman. + +"Could we trrrouble you to sssshow us your paperrrssss?" + +"Certainly." Nonchalantly, the fat man dug them out and handed them +over. Bart saw his father's name printed across the top. + +The Lhari gestured to a Mentorian interpreter: "What colorrr isss thisss +man's hairrr?" + +The Mentorian said in the Lhari language, "His hair is _gray_." He used +the Universal word; there were, of course, no words for colors in the +Lhari speech. + +"The man we sssseek has hair of _red_," said the Lhari. "And he isss +tall, not fat." + +"The boy is tall and with _red_ hair," the Mentorian volunteered, and +the old Lhari made a gesture of disdain. + +"This boy is twenty years younger than the man whose description came to +us. Why did they not give us a picture or at least a name?" He turned to +the other Lhari and said in their own shrill speech, "I suspected this +man because he was alone. And I had seen this boy on the upper mezzanine +and spoken with him. We watched him, knowing sooner or later the father +would seek him. Ask him." He gestured and the Mentorian said, "Who is +this man, you?" + +Bart gulped. For the first time he noted the energon-ray shockers at the +belts of the four Lhari. He'd heard about those. They could stun--or +they could kill, and quite horribly. He said, "This is my father. You +want my cards, too?" He hauled out his identity papers. "My name's Bart +Steele." + +The Lhari, with a gesture of disgust, handed them back. "Go, then, +father and son," he said, not unkindly. + +"Let's get going, Son," said the little bald man. His hand shook on +Bart's, and Bart thought, _If we're lucky, we can get out of the port +before he faints dead away._ He said "I'll get a copter," and then, +feeling sorry for the stranger, gave him his arm to lean on. He didn't +know whether he was worried or scared. _Where was his father?_ Why did +this man have his dad's papers? Was his father hiding inside the Lhari +ship? He wanted to run, to burst away from the imposter, but the guy was +shaking so hard Bart couldn't just leave him standing there. If the +Lhari got him, he was a dead duck. + +A copter swooped down, the pilot signaling. The little man said +hoarsely, "No. Robotcab." + +Bart waved the copter away, getting a dirty look from the pilot, and +punched a button at the stand for one of the unmanned robotcabs. It +swung down, hovered motionless. Bart boosted the fat man in. Inside, the +man collapsed on the seat, leaning back, puffing, his hand pressed hard +to his chest. + +"Punch a combo for Denver," he said hoarsely. + +Bart obeyed, automatically. Then he turned on the man. + +"It's your game, mister! Now tell me what's going on? _Where's my +father?_" + +The man's eyes were half-shut. He said, gasping, "Don't ask me any +questions for a minute." He thumbed a tablet into his mouth, and +presently his breathing quieted. + +"We're safe--for the minute. Those Lhari would have cut us down." + +"You, maybe. I haven't done anything. Look, you," Bart said in sudden +rage, "you owe me some explanations. For all I know, you're a criminal +and the Lhari have every right to chase you! Why have you got my +father's papers? Did you steal them to get away from the Lhari? _Where's +my father?_" + +"It's your father they were looking for, you young fool," said the man, +gasping hard. "Lucky they had only a description and not a name--but +they've probably got that by now, uncoded. We've only confused them for +a little while. But if you hadn't played along, they'd have had you +watched, and when they get hold of the name Steele--they will, sooner or +later, the people in the Procyon system--" + +_"Where is my father?"_ + +"I hope I don't know," the fat man said. "If he's still where I left +him, he's dead. My name is Briscoe. Edmund Briscoe. Your father saved my +life years ago, never mind how. The less you know, the safer you'll be +for a while. His major worry just now is about you. He was afraid, if he +didn't turn up here, you'd take the first ship back to Vega. So he gave +me his papers and sent me to warn you--" + +Bart shook his head. "It all sounds phony as can be. How do I know +whether to believe you or not?" His hand hovered over the robotcab +controls. "We're going straight to the police. If you're okay, they +won't turn you over to the Lhari. If you're not--" + +"You young fool," said the fat man, with feeble violence, "there's no +_time_ for all that! Ask me questions--I can prove I know your father!" + +"What was my mother's name?" + +"Oh, God," Briscoe said, "I never saw her. I knew your father long +before you were born. Until he told me, I never knew he'd married or +had a son. I'd never have known you, except that you're the living +image--" He shook his head helplessly, and his breathing sounded hoarse. + +"Bart, I'm a sick man, I'm going to die. I want to do what I came here +to do, because your father saved my life once when I was young and +healthy, and gave me twenty good years before I got old and fat and +sick. Win or lose, I won't live to see you hunted down like a dog, like +my own son--" + +"Don't talk like that," Bart said, a creepy feeling coming over him. "If +you're sick, let me take you to a doctor." + +Briscoe did not even hear. "Wait, there is something else. Your father +said, 'Tell Bart I've gone looking for the Eighth Color. Bart will know +what I mean.'" + +"That's crazy. I don't know--" + +He broke off, for the memory had come, full-blown: + +_He was very young: five, six, seven. His mother, tall and slender and +very fair, was bending over a blueprint, pointing with a delicate finger +at something, straightening, saying in her light musical voice:_ + +_"The fuel catalyst--it's a strange color, a color you never saw +anywhere. Can you_ think _of a color that isn't red, orange, yellow, +green, blue, violet, indigo or some combination of them? It isn't any of +the colors of the spectrum at all. The fuel is a real eighth color."_ + +_And his father had used the phrase, almost adopted it. "When we know +what the eighth color is, we'll have the secret of the star-drive, +too!"_ + +Briscoe saw his face change, nodded weakly. "I see it means something to +you. Now will you do as I tell you? Within a couple of hours, they'll be +combing the planet for you, but by that time the ship I came in on will +have taken off again. They only stop a short time here, for mail, +passengers--no cargo. They may get under way again before all messages +are cleared and decoded." He stopped and breathed hard. "The Earth +authorities might protect you, but you would never be able to board a +Lhari ship again--and that would mean staying on Earth for the rest of +your life. You've got to get away before they start comparing notes. +Here." His hand went into his pockets. "For your hair. It's a dye--a +spray." + +He pressed a button on the bulb in his hand; Bart gasped, feeling cold +wetness on his head. His own hand came away stained black. + +"Keep still." Briscoe said irritably. "You'll need it at the Procyon end +of the run. Here." He stuck some papers into Bart's hand, then punched +some buttons on the robotcab's control. It wheeled and swerved so +rapidly that Bart fell against the fat man's shoulder. + +"Are you crazy? What are you going to do?" + +Briscoe looked straight into Bart's eyes. In his hoarse, sick voice, he +said, "Bart, don't worry about me. It's all over for me, whatever +happens. Just remember this. What your father is doing is _worth_ doing, +and if you start stalling, arguing, demanding explanations, you can foul +up a hundred people--and kill about half of them." + +He closed Bart's fingers roughly over the papers. The robotcab hovered +over the spaceport. "Now listen to me, very carefully. When I stop the +cab, down below, jump out. Don't stop to say good-bye, or ask questions, +or anything else. Just get out, walk straight through the passenger door +and straight up the ramp of the ship. Show them that ticket, and get on. +Whatever happens, don't let anything stop you. Bart!" Briscoe shook his +shoulder. "Promise! Whatever happens, you'll _get on that ship_!" + +Bart swallowed, feeling as if he'd been shoved into a silly +cops-and-robbers game. But Briscoe's urgency had convinced him. "Where +am I going?" + +"All I have is a name--Raynor Three," Briscoe said, "and the message +about the Eighth Color. That's all I know." His mouth twisted again in +that painful gasp. + +The cab swooped down. Bart found his voice. "But what then? Is Dad +there? Will I know--" + +"I don't know any more than I've told you," Briscoe said. Abruptly the +robotcab came to a halt, swaying a little. Briscoe jerked the door open, +gave Bart a push, and Bart found himself stumbling out on the ramp +beside the spaceport building. He caught his balance, looked around, and +realized that the robotcab was already climbing the sky again. + +Immediately before him, neon letters spelled TO PASSENGER ENTRANCE +ONLY. Bart stumbled forward. The Lhari by the gate thrust out a +disinterested claw. Bart held up what Briscoe had shoved into his hand, +only now seeing that it was a thin wallet, a set of identity papers and a +strip of pink tickets. + +"Procyon Alpha. Corridor B, straight through." The Lhari gestured, and +Bart went through the narrow passageway, came out at the other end, and +found himself at the very base of a curving stair that led up and up +toward a door in the side of the huge Lhari ship. Bart hesitated. In +another minute he'd be on his way to a strange sun and a strange world, +on what might well be the wild-goose chase of all time. + +Passengers were crowding the steps behind him. Someone shouted suddenly, +"Look at that!" and someone else yelled, "Is that guy crazy?" + +Bart looked up. A robotcab was swooping over the spaceport in wild, +crazy circles, dipping down, suddenly making a dart like an enraged wasp +at a little nest of Lhari. They ducked and scattered; the robotcab +swerved away, hovered, swooped back. This time it struck one of the +Lhari grazingly with landing gear and knocked him sprawling. Bart stood +with his mouth open, as if paralyzed. + +_Briscoe! What was he doing?_ + +The fallen Lhari lay without moving. The robotcab moved in again, as if +for the kill, buzzing viciously overhead. + +Then a beam of light arced from one of the drawn energon-ray tubes. The +robotcab glowed briefly red, then seemed to sag, sink together; then +puddled, a slag heap of molten metal, on the glassy floor of the port. A +little moan of horror came from the crowd, and Bart felt a sudden, +wrenching sickness. It had been like a game, a silly game of cops and +robbers, and suddenly it was as serious as melted death lying there on +the spaceport. _Briscoe!_ + +Someone shoved him and said, "Come on, quit gawking, kid. They won't +hold the ship all day just because some nut finds a new way to commit +suicide." + +Bart, his legs numb, walked up the ramp. Briscoe had died to give him +this chance. Now it was up to him to make it worth having. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +At the top of the ramp, a Lhari glanced briefly at his papers, motioned +him through. Bart passed through the airlock, and into a brightly lit +corridor half full of passengers. The line was moving slowly, and for +the first time Bart had a chance to think. + +He had never seen violent death before. In this civilized world, you +didn't. He knew if he thought about Briscoe, he'd start bawling like a +baby, so he swallowed hard a couple of times, set his chin, and +concentrated on the trip to Procyon Alpha. That meant this ship was +outbound on the Aldebaran run--Proxima Centauri, Sirius, Pollux, +Procyon, Capella and Aldebaran. + +The line of passengers was disappearing through a doorway. A woman ahead +of Bart turned and said nervously, "We won't be put into cold-sleep +right away, will we?" + +He reassured her, remembering his inbound trip five years ago. "No, no. +The ship won't go into warp-drive until we're well past Pluto. It will +be several days, at least." + +Beyond the doorway the lights dwindled, and a Mentorian interpreter took +his dark glasses, saying, "Kindly remove your belt, shoes and other +accessories of leather or metal before stepping into the decontamination +chamber. They will be separately decontaminated and returned to you. +Papers, please." + +With a small twinge of fright, Bart surrendered them. Would the +Mentorian ask why he was carrying two wallets? Inside the other one, he +still had his Academy ID card which identified him as Bart Steele, and +if the Mentorian looked through them to check, and found out he was +carrying two sets of identity papers.... + +But the Mentorian merely dumped all his pocket paraphernalia, without +looking at it, into a sack. "Just step through here." + +Holding up his trousers with both hands, Bart stepped inside the +indicated cubicle. It was filled with faint bluish light. Bart felt a +strong tingling and a faint electrical smell, and along his forearms +there was a slight prickling where the small hairs were all standing on +end. He knew that the invisible R-rays were killing all the +microorganisms in his body, so that no disease germ or stray fungus +would be carried from planet to planet. + +The bluish light died. Outside, the Mentorian gave him back his shoes +and belt, handed him the paper sack of his belongings, and a paper cup +full of greenish fluid. + +"Drink this." + +"What is it?" + +The medic said patiently, "Remember, the R-rays killed _all_ the +microorganisms in your body, including the good ones--the antibodies +that protect you against disease, and the small yeasts and bacteria that +live in your intestines and help in the digestion of your food. So we +have to replace those you need to stay healthy. See?" + +The green stuff tasted a little brackish, but Bart got it down all +right. He didn't much like the idea of drinking a solution of "germs," +but he knew that was silly. There was a big difference between disease +germs and helpful bacteria. + +Another Mentorian official, this one a young woman, gave him a key with +a numbered tag, and a small booklet with WELCOME ABOARD printed +on the cover. + +The tag was numbered 246-B, which made Bart raise his eyebrows. B class +was normally too expensive for Bart's father's modest purse. It wasn't +quite the luxury class A, reserved for planetary governors and +ambassadors, but it was plenty luxurious. Briscoe had certainly sent him +traveling in style! + +B Deck was a long corridor with oval doors; Bart found one numbered 246, +and, not surprisingly, the key opened it. It was a pleasant little +cabin, measuring at least six feet by eight, and he would evidently have +it to himself. There was a comfortably big bunk, a light that could be +turned on and off instead of the permanent glow-walls of the cheaper +class, a private shower and toilet, and a placard on the walls informing +him that passengers in B class had the freedom of the Observation Dome +and the Recreation Lounge. There was even a row of buttons dispensing +synthetic foods, in case a passenger preferred privacy or didn't want to +wait for meals in the dining hall. + +A buzzer sounded and a Mentorian voice announced, "Five minutes to Room +Check. Passengers will please remove all metal in their clothing, and +deposit in the lead drawers. Passengers will please recline in their +bunks and fasten the retaining straps before the steward arrives. +Repeat, passengers will please...." + +Bart took off his belt, stuck it and his cuff links in the drawer and +lay down. Then, in a sudden panic, he got up again. His papers as Bart +Steele were still in the sack. He got them out, and with a feeling as if +he were crossing a bridge and burning it after him, tore up every scrap +of paper that identified him as Bart Steele of Vega Four, graduate of +the Space Academy of Earth. Now, for better or worse, he was--who _was_ +he? He hadn't even looked at the new papers Briscoe had given him! + +He glanced through them quickly. They were made out to David Warren +Briscoe, of Aldebaran Four. According to them, David Briscoe was twenty +years old, hair black, eyes hazel, height six foot one inch. Bart +wondered, painfully, if Briscoe had a son and if David Briscoe knew +where his father was. There was also a license, validated with four runs +on the Aldebaran Intrasatellite Cargo Company--planetary ships--with the +rank of Apprentice Astrogator; and a considerable sum of money. + +Bart put the papers in his pants pocket and the torn-up scraps of his +old ones into the trashbin before he realized that they looked exactly +like what they were--torn-up legal identity papers and a broken plastic +card. _Nobody_ destroyed identity papers for any good reason. What could +he do? + +Then he remembered something from the Academy. Starships were +closed-system cycles, no waste was discarded, but everything was +collected in big chemical tanks, broken down to separate elements, +purified and built up again into new materials. He threw the paper into +the toilet, worked the plastic card back and forth, back and forth until +he had wrenched it into inch-wide bits, and threw it after them. + +The cabin door opened and a Mentorian said irritably, "Please lie down +and fasten your straps. I haven't all day." + +Hastily Bart flushed the toilet and went to the bunk. Now everything +that could identify him as Bart Steele was on its way to the breakdown +tanks. Before long, the complex hydrocarbons and cellulose would all be +innocent little molecules of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen; they might turn +up in new combinations as sugar on the table! + +The Mentorian grumbled, "You young people think the rules mean everybody +but you," and strapped him far too tightly into the bunk. Bart felt +resentful; just because Mentorians could work on Lhari ships, did they +have to act as if they owned everybody? + +When the man had gone, Bart drew a deep breath. Was he really doing the +right thing? + +If he'd refused to get out of the robotcab-- + +If he'd driven Briscoe straight to the police-- + +Then maybe Briscoe would still be alive. And now it was too late. + +A warning siren went off in the ship, rising to hysterical intensity. +Bart thought, incredulously, _this is really happening_. It felt like a +nightmare. His father a fugitive from the Lhari. Briscoe dead. He +himself traveling, with forged papers, to a star he'd never seen. + +He braced himself, knowing the siren was the last warning before +takeoff. First there would be the hum of great turbines deep in the +ship, then the crushing surge of acceleration. He had made a dozen trips +inside the solar system, but no matter how often he did it, there was +the strange excitement, the little pinpoint of fear, like an exotic +taste, that was almost pleasant. + +The door opened and Bart grabbed a fistful of bed-ticking as two Lhari +came into the room. + +One of them said, in their strange shrill speech, "This boy is the right +age." + +Bart froze. + +"You're seeing spies in every corner, Ransell," said the other, then in +Universal, "Could we trrouble you for your paperesses, sirr?" + +Bart, strapped down and helpless, moved his head toward the drawer, +hoping his face did not betray his fear. He watched the two Lhari riffle +through his papers with their odd pointed claws. + +"What isss your planet?" + +Bart bit his lip, hard--he had almost said, "Vega Four." + +"Aldebaran Four." + +The Lhari said in his own language, "We should have Margil in here. He +actually saw them." + +The other replied, "But I saw the machine that disintegrated. I still +say there was enough protoplasm residue for two bodies." + +Bart fought to keep his face perfectly straight. + +"Did anyone come into your cabin?" The Lhari asked in Universal. + +"Only the steward. Why? Is something wrong?" + +"There iss some thought that a stowaway might be on boarrd. Of courrrse +we could not allow that, anyone not prrroperly prrotected would die in +the first shift into warp-drive." + +"Just the steward," Bart said again. "A Mentorian." + +The Lhari said, eying him keenly, "You are ill? Or discommoded?" + +Bart grasped at random for an excuse. "That--that stuff the medic made +me drink made me feel--sort of sick." + +"You may send for a medical officer after acceleration," said the Lhari +expressionlessly. "The summoning bell is at your left." + +They turned and went out and Bart gulped. Lhari, in person, checking the +passenger decks! Normally you never saw one on board; just Mentorians. +The Lhari treated humans as if they were too dumb to bother about. Well, +at least for once someone was acting as if humans were worthy +antagonists. _We'll show them--someday!_ + +But he felt very alone, and scared.... + +A low hum rose, somewhere in the ship, and Bart grabbed ticking as he +felt the slow surge. Then a violent sense of pressure popped his ear +drums, weight crowded down on him like an elephant sitting on his chest, +and there was a horrible squashed sensation dragging his limbs out of +shape. It grew and grew. Bart lay still and sweated, trying to ease his +uncomfortable position, unable to move so much as a finger. The Lhari +ships hit 12 gravities in the first surge of acceleration. Bart felt as +if he were spreading out, under the weight, into a puddle of +flesh--_melted flesh like Briscoe's_-- + +Bart writhed and bit his lip till he could taste blood, wishing he were +young enough to bawl out loud. + +Abruptly, it eased, and the blood started to flow again in his numbed +limbs. Bart loosened his straps, took a few deep breaths, wiped his +face--wringing wet, whether with sweat or tears he wasn't sure--and sat +up in his bunk. The loudspeaker announced, "Acceleration One is +completed. Passengers on A and B Decks are invited to witness the +passing of the Satellites from the Observation Lounge in half an hour." + +Bart got up and washed his face, remembering that he had no luggage with +him, not so much as a toothbrush. + +At the back of his mind, packed up in a corner, was the continuing worry +about his father, the horror at Briscoe's ghastly death, the fear of the +Lhari; but he slammed the lid firmly on them all. For the moment he was +safe. They might be looking for Bart Steele by now, but they weren't +looking for David Briscoe of Aldebaran. He might just as well relax and +enjoy the trip. He went down to the Observation Lounge. + +It had been darkened, and one whole wall of the room was made of clear +quartzite. Bart drew a deep breath as the vast panorama of space opened +out before him. + +They were receding from the sun at some thousands of miles a minute. +Swirling past the ship, gleaming in the reflected sunlight like iron +filings moving to the motion of a magnet, were the waves upon waves of +cosmic dust--tiny free electrons, ions, particles of gas; free of the +heavier atmosphere, themselves invisible, they formed in their billions +into bright clouds around the ship; pale, swirling veils of mist. And +through their dim shine, the brilliant flares of the fixed stars burned +clear and steady, so far away that even the hurling motion of the ship +could not change their positions. + +One by one he picked out the constellations. Aldebaran swung on the +pendant chain of Taurus like a giant ruby. Orion strode across the sky, +a swirling nebula at his belt. Vega burned, cobalt blue, in the heart of +the Lyre. + +Colors, colors! Inside the atmosphere of Earth's night, the stars had +been pale white sparks against black. Here, against the misty-pale +swirls of cosmic dust, they burned with color heaped on color; the +bloody burning crimson of Antares, the metallic gold of Capella, the +sullen pulsing of Betelgeuse. They burned, each with its own inward +flame and light, like handfuls of burning jewels flung by some giant +hand upon the swirling darkness. It was a sight Bart felt he could watch +forever and still be hungry to see; the never-changing, ever-changing +colors of space. + + * * * * * + +Behind him in the darkness, after a long time, someone said softly, +"Imagine being a Lhari and not being able to see anything out there but +bright or brighter light." + +A bell rang melodiously in the ship and the passengers in the lounge +began to stir and move toward the door, to stretch limbs cramped like +Bart's by tranced watching, to talk quickly of ordinary things. + +"I suppose that bell means dinner," said a vaguely familiar voice at +Bart's elbow. "Synthetics, I suppose, but at least we can all get +acquainted." + +The light from the undarkened hall fell on their faces as they moved +toward the door. "Bart! Why, it can't be!" + +In utter dismay, Bart looked down into the face of Tommy Kendron. + +In the rush of danger, he had absolutely forgotten that Tommy Kendron +was on this ship--to make his alias useless; Tommy was looking at him in +surprise and delight. + +"Why didn't you tell me, or did you and your father decide at the last +minute? Hey, it's great that we can go part way together, at least!" + +Bart knew he must cut this short very quickly. He stepped out into the +full corridor light so that Tommy could see his black hair. + +"I'm sorry, you're confusing me with someone else." + +"Bart, come off it--" Tommy's voice died out. "Sorry, I'd have sworn you +were a friend of mine." + +Bart wondered suddenly, had he done the wrong thing? He had a feeling he +might need a friend. Badly. + +Well, it was too late now. He stared Tommy in the eye and said, "I've +never seen you before in my life." + +Tommy looked deflated. He stepped back slightly, shaking his head. +"Never saw such a resemblance. Are you a Vegan?" + +"No," Bart lied flatly. "Aldebaran. David Briscoe." + +"Glad to know you, Dave." With undiscourageable friendliness, Tommy +stuck out a hand. "Say, that bell means dinner, why don't we go down +together? I don't know a soul on the ship, and it looks like +luck--running into a fellow who could be my best friend's twin brother." + +Bart felt warmed and drawn, but sensibly he knew he could not keep up +the pretense. Sooner or later, he'd give himself away, use some habitual +phrase or gesture Tommy would recognize. + +Should he take a chance--reveal himself to Tommy and ask him to keep +quiet? No. This wasn't a game. One man was already dead. He didn't want +Tommy to be next. + +There was only one way out. He said coldly, "thank you, but I have other +things to attend to. I intend to be very busy all through the voyage." +He spun on his heel and walked away before he could see Tommy's eager, +friendly smile turn hurt and defensive. + +Back in his cabin, he gloomily dialed some synthetic jellies, thinking +with annoyance of the anticipated good food of the dining room. He knew +he couldn't risk meeting Tommy again, and drearily resigned himself to +staying in his cabin. It looked like an awfully boring trip ahead. + +It was. It was a week before the Lhari ship went into warp-drive, and +all that time Bart stayed in his cabin, not daring to go to the +observation Lounge or dining hall. He got tired of eating synthetics +(oh, they were nourishing enough, but they were altogether +uninteresting) and tired of listening to the tapes the room steward got +him from the ship's library. By the time they had been in space a week, +he was so bored with his own company that even the Mentorian medic was a +welcome sight when he came in to prepare him for cold-sleep. + +Bart had had the best education on Earth, but he didn't know precisely +how the Lhari warp-drive worked. He'd been told that only a few of the +Lhari understood it, just as the man who flew a copter didn't need to +understand Newton's Three Laws of Motion in order to get himself back +and forth to work. + +But he knew this much; when the ship generated the frequencies which +accelerated it beyond the speed of light, in effect the ship went into a +sort of fourth dimension, and came out of it a good many light-years +away. As far as Bart knew, no human being had ever survived warp-drive +except in the suspended animation which they called cold-sleep. While +the medic was professionally reassuring him and strapping him in his +bunk, Bart wondered what humans would do with the Lhari star-drive if +they had it. Well, he supposed they could use automation in their ships. + +The Mentorian paused, needle in hand. "Do you wish to be wakened for the +week we shall spend in each of the Proxima, Sirius and Pollux systems, +sir? You can, of course, be given enough drug to keep you in cold-sleep +until we reach the Procyon system." + +Bart wondered if the room steward had mentioned the passenger so bored +with the trip that he didn't even visit the Observation Lounge. He felt +tempted--he was getting awfully tired of staring at the walls. On the +other hand, he wanted very much to see the other star-systems. When he +passed through them on the trip to Earth, he'd been too young to pay +much attention. + +Firmly he put the temptation aside. Better not to risk meeting other +passengers, Tommy especially, if he decided he couldn't take the +boredom. + +The needle went into his arm. He felt himself sinking into sleep, and, +in sudden panic, realized that he was helpless. The ship would touch +down on three worlds, and on any of them the Lhari might have his +description, or his alias! He could be taken off, drugged and +unconscious, and might never wake up! He tried to move, to protest, to +tell them he was changing his mind, but already he was unable to speak. +There was a freezing moment of intense, painful cold. Then he was +floating in what felt like waves of cosmic dust, swirling many-colored +before his eyes. And then there was nothing, no color, nothing at all +except the nowhere night of sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +Bart felt cold. He stirred, moved his head in drowsy protest; then +memory came flooding back, and in sudden panic he sat up, flinging out +his arms as if to ward away anyone who would lay hands on him. + +"Easy!" said a soothing voice. A Mentorian--not the same Mentorian--bent +over him. "We have just entered the gravitational field of Procyon +planet Alpha, Mr. Briscoe. Touchdown in four hours." + +Bart mumbled an apology. + +"Think nothing of it. Quite a number of people who aren't used to the +cold-sleep drug suffer from minor lapses of memory. How do you feel +now?" + +Bart's legs were numb and his hands tingled when he sat up; but his body +processes had been slowed so much by the cold-sleep that he didn't even +feel hungry; the synthetic jelly he'd eaten just before going to sleep +wasn't even digested yet. + +When the Mentorian left for another cabin, Bart looked around, and +suddenly felt he would stifle if he stayed here another minute. He +wasn't likely to run into Tommy twice in a row, and if he did, well, +Tommy would probably remember the snub he'd had and stay away from Dave +Briscoe. And he wanted another sight of the stars--before he went into +worry and danger. + +He went down to the Observation Lounge. + +The cosmic dust was brighter out here, and the constellations looked a +little flattened. Textbook tables came back to him. He had traveled 47 +light-years--he couldn't remember how many _billions_ of miles that was. +Even so, it was only the tiniest hop-skip-and-jump in the measureless +vastness of space. + +The ship was streaking toward Procyon, a sol-type star, bright yellow; +the three planets, Alpha, Beta and Gamma, ringed like Saturn and veiled +in shimmering layers of cloud, swung against the night. Past them other +stars, brighter stars, faraway stars he would never see, glimmered +through the pale dust.... + +"Hello, Dave. Been space-sick all this time? Remember me? I met you +about six weeks ago in the lounge down here--just out from Earth." + +_Oh, no!_ Bart turned, with a mental groan, to face Tommy. "I've been in +cold-sleep," he said. He _couldn't_ be rude again. + +"What a dull way to face a long trip!" Tommy said cheerily. "I've +enjoyed every minute of it myself." + +It was hard for Bart to realize that, for Tommy, their meeting had been +six weeks ago. It all seemed dreamlike. The closer he came to it, the +less he could realize that in a few hours he'd be getting off on a +strange world, with only the strange name _Raynor Three_ as a guide. He +felt terribly alone, and having Tommy close at hand helped, even though +Tommy didn't know he was helping. + +"Maybe I should have stayed awake." + +"You should," Tommy said. "I only slept for a couple of hours at each +warp-drive shift. We had a day-long stopover at Sirius Eighteen, and I +took a tour of the planet. And I've spent a lot of time down here, just +star-gazing--not that it did me much good. Which one is Antares? How do +you tell it from Aldebaran? I'm always getting them mixed up." + +Bart pointed. "Aldebaran--that's the big red one there," he said. "Think +of the constellation Taurus as a necklace, with Aldebaran hanging from +it like a locket. Antares is much further down in the sky, in relation +to the arbitrary sidereal axis, and it's a deeper red. Like a burning +coal, while Aldebaran is like a ruby--" + +He broke off in mid-word, realizing that Tommy was gazing at him in a +mixture of triumph and consternation. Too late, Bart realized he had +been tricked. Studying for an exam, the year before, he had explained +the difference between the two red stars in almost the same words. + +"Bart," Tommy said in a whisper, "I knew it had to be you. Why didn't +you tell me, fella?" + +Bart felt himself start to smile, but it only stretched his mouth. He +said, very low, "Don't say my name out loud Tom. I'm in terrible +trouble." + +"Why didn't you tell me? What's a friend for?" + +"We can't talk here. And all the cabins are wired for sound in case +somebody stops breathing, or has a heart attack in space," Bart said, +glancing around. + +They went and stood at the very foot of the quartz window, seeming to +tread the brink of a dizzying gulf of cosmic space, and talked in low +tones while Alpha and Beta and Gamma swelled like blown-up balloons in +the port. + +Tommy listened, almost incredulous. "And you're hoping to find your +father, with no more information than that? It's a big universe," he +said, waving at the gulf of stars. "The Lhari ships, according to the +little tourist pamphlet they gave me, touch down at nine hundred and +twenty-two different stars in this galaxy!" + +Bart visibly winced, and Tommy urged, "Come to Capella with me. You can +stay with my family as long as you want to, and appeal to the +Interplanet authority to find your father. They'd protect him against +the Lhari, surely. You can't chase all over the galaxy playing +interplanetary spy all by yourself, Bart!" + +But Briscoe had deliberately gone to his death, to give Bart the chance +to get away. He wouldn't have died to send Bart into a trap he could +easily have sprung on Earth. + +"Thanks, Tommy. But I've got to play it my way." + +Tommy said firmly, "Count me in then. My ticket has stopover privileges. +I'll get off at Procyon with you." + +It was a temptation--to have a friend at his back. He put his hand on +Tommy's shoulder, grateful beyond words. But fresh horror seized him as +he remembered the horrible puddle of melted robotcab with Briscoe +somewhere in the residue. _Protoplasm residue enough for two bodies._ He +couldn't let Tommy face that. + +"Tommy, I appreciate that, believe me. But if I did find my father and +his friends, I don't want anyone tracing me. You'd only make the danger +worse. The best thing you can do is stay out of it." + +Tommy faced him squarely. "One thing's for sure. I'm not going to let +you go off and never know whether you're alive or dead." + +"I'll try to get a message to you," Bart said, "if I can. But whatever +happens, Tommy, stay with the ship and go on to Capella. It's the one +thing you can do to help me." + +A warning bell rang in the ship. He broke sharply away from Tommy, +saying over his shoulder, "It's all you can do to help, Tom. Do +it--please? Just stay clear?" + +Tommy reached out and caught his arm. "Okay," he said reluctantly, "I +will. But you be careful," he added fiercely. "You hear me? And if I +don't hear from you in some reasonable time, I'll raise a stink from +here to Vega!" + +Bart broke away and ran. He was afraid, if he didn't, he'd break up +again. He closed the cabin door behind him, trying to calm down so that +the Mentorian steward, coming to strap him in for deceleration, wouldn't +see how upset he was. He was going to need all his nerve. + + * * * * * + +He went through another decontamination chamber, and finally moved, with +a line of passengers, out of the yawning airlock, under the strange sun, +into the strange world. + +At first sight it was a disappointment. It was a Lhari spaceport that +lay before him, to all appearances identical with the one on Earth: +sloping glass ramps, tall colorless pylons, a skyscraper terminus +crowded with men of all planets. But the sun overhead was brilliant and +clear gold, the shadows sharp and violet on the spaceport floor. Behind +the confines of the spaceport he could see the ridges of tall hills and +unfamiliarly colored trees. He longed to explore them, but he got a grip +on his imagination, surrendering his ticket stub and false papers to the +Lhari and Mentorian interpreter who guarded the ramp. + +The Lhari said to the Mentorian, in the Lhari language, "Keep him for +questioning but don't tell him why." Bart felt a cold chill icing his +spine. _This was it._ + +The Mentorian said briefly, "We wish to check on the proper antibody +component for Aldebaran natives. There will be a delay of about thirty +minutes. Will you kindly wait in this room here?" + +The room was comfortable, furnished with chairs and a vision-screen with +some colorful story moving on it, small bright figures in capes, curious +beasts racing across an unusual veldt; but Bart paced the floor +restlessly. There were two doors in the room. Through one of them, he +had been admitted; he could see, through the glass door, the silhouette +of the Mentorian outside. The other door was opaque, and marked in large +letters: + + DANGER HUMANS MUST NOT PASS WITHOUT SPECIAL LENSES TYPE X. + ORDINARY SPACE LENSES WILL NOT SUFFICE DANGER! LHARI OPENING! + ADJUST X LENSES BEFORE OPENING! + +Bart read the sign again. Well, _that_ was no way out, for sure! He had +heard that the Lhari sun was almost 500 times as bright as Earth's. The +Mentorians alone, among humans, could endure Lhari lights--he supposed +the warning was for ordinary spaceport workers. + +A sudden, rather desperate plan occurred to Bart. He didn't know how +much light he _could_ tolerate--he'd never been on Mentor--but he _had_ +inherited some of his mother's tolerance for light. And blindness would +be better than being burned down with an energon-gun! He went hesitantly +toward the door, and pushed it open. + +His eyes exploded into pain; automatically his hands went up to shield +them. Light, light--he had never known such cruelly glowing light. Even +through the lids there was pain and red afterimages; but after a moment, +opening them a slit, he found that he could see, and made out other +doors, glass ramps, pale Lhari figures coming and going. But for the +moment he was alone in the long corridor beyond which he could see the +glass ramps. + +Nearby, a door opened into a small office with glass walls; on a peg, +one of the silky metallic cloaks worn by Mentorians doing spaceport work +was hanging. On an impulse, Bart caught it up and flung it around his +shoulders. + +It felt cool and soft, and the hood shielded his eyes a little. The ramp +leading down to what he hoped was street level was terribly steep and +there were no steps. Bart eased himself over the top of the ramp and let +go. He whooshed down the slick surface on the flat of his back, feeling +the metal of the cloak heat with the friction, and came to a breathless +jarring stop at the bottom. Whew, what a slide! Three stories, at least! +But there was a door, and outside the door, maybe, safety. + +A voice hailed him, in Lhari. "You, there!" + +Bart could see well now. He made out the form of a Lhari, only a +colorless blob in the intense light. + +"You people know better than to come back here without glasses. Do you +want to be blinded, my friend?" He actually sounded kind and concerned. +Bart tensed, his heart pounding. Now that he was caught, could he bluff +his way out? He hadn't actually spoken the Lhari language in years, +though his mother had taught it to him when he was young enough to learn +it without a trace of accent. + +Well, he must try. "Margil sent me to check," he improvised quickly. +"They were holding someone for questioning, and he seems to have gotten +away somehow, so I wanted to make sure he didn't come through here." + +"What is the matter that one man can give us all the slip this way?" the +Lhari said curiously. "Well, one thing is sure, he's Vegan or Solarian +or Capellan, one of the dim-star people. If he comes through here, we'll +catch him easily enough while he's stumbling around half blind. You know +that you shouldn't stay long." He gestured. "Out this way--and don't +come back without special lenses." + +Bart nodded, jerking the cloak around his shoulders, forcing himself not +to break into a run as he stepped through the door the Lhari indicated. +It closed behind him. Bart blinked, feeling as if he had stepped into +pitch darkness. Only slowly did his eyes adapt and he became aware that +he was standing in a city street, in the full glow of Procyon sunlight, +and apparently outside the Lhari spaceport entirely. + +He'd better get to cover! He took off the Mentorian cloak, thrust it +under his arm. He raised his eyes, which were adjusting to ordinary +light again, and stopped dead. + +Just across the street was a long, low, rainbow colored building. And +the letters--Bart blinked, thinking his eyes deceived him--spelled out: + + EIGHT COLORS TRANSSHIPPING CORPORATION + CARGO, PASSENGERS, MESSAGES, EXPRESS + A. RAYNOR ONE, MANAGER + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +For a moment the words swirled before Bart's still-watering eyes. He +wiped them, trying to steady himself. Had he so soon reached the end of +his dangerous quest? Somehow he had expected it to lie in deep, dark +concealment. + +Raynor One. The existence of Raynor _One_ presupposed a Raynor _Two_ and +probably a Raynor _Three_--for all he knew, Raynors Four, Five, Six, and +Sixty-six! The building looked solid and real. It had evidently been +there a long time. + +With his hand on the door, he hesitated. Was it, after all, the _right_ +Eight Colors? But it was a family saying; hardly the sort of thing you'd +be apt to hear outside. He pushed the door and went in. + +The room was filled with brighter light than the Procyon sun outdoors, +the edges of the furniture rimmed with neon in the Mentorian fashion. A +prim-looking girl sat behind a desk--or what should have been a desk, +except that it looked more like a mirror, with little sparkles of +lights, different colors, in regular rows along one edge. The mirror-top +itself was blue-violet and gave her skin and her violet eyes a bluish +tinge. She was smooth and lacquered and glittering and she raised her +eyebrows at Bart as if he were some strange form of life she hadn't seen +very often. + +"I'd--er--like to see Raynor One," he said. + +Her dainty pointed fingernail, varnished blue, stabbed at points of +light. "On what business?" she asked, not caring. + +"It's a personal matter." + +"Then I suggest you see him at his home." + +"It can't wait that long." + +The girl studied the glassy surface and punched at some more of the +little lights. "Name, please?" + +"David Briscoe." + +He had thought her perfect-painted face could not show any emotion +except disdain, but it did. She looked at him in open, blank +consternation. She said into the vision-screen, "He calls himself David +Briscoe. Yes, I know. Yes, sir, yes." She raised her face, and it was +controlled again, but not bored. "Raynor One will see you. Through that +door, and down to the end of the hall." + +At the end of the hallway was another door. He stepped through into a +small cubicle, and the door slid shut like a closing trap. He whirled in +panic, then subsided in foolish relief as the cubicle began to rise--it +was just an automatic elevator. + +It rose higher and higher, stopping with an abrupt jerk, and slid open +into a lighted room and office. A man sat behind a desk, watching Bart +step from the elevator. The man was very tall and very thin, and the +gray eyes, and the intensity of the lights, told Bart that he was a +Mentorian. _Raynor One?_ + +Under the steady, stern gray stare, Bart felt the slow, clutching suck +of fear again. Was this man a slave of the Lhari, who would turn him +over to them? Or someone he could trust? His own mother had been a +Mentorian. + +"Who are you?" Raynor One's voice was harsh, and gave the impression of +being loud, though it was not. + +"David Briscoe." + +It was the wrong thing. The Mentorian's mouth was taut, forbidding. "Try +again. I happen to know that David Briscoe is dead." + +"I have a message for Raynor Three." + +The cold gray stare never altered. "On what business?" + +On a sudden inspiration, Bart said, "I'll tell you that if you can tell +me what the Eighth Color is." + +There was a glint in the grim eyes now, though the even, stern voice did +not soften. "I never knew myself. I didn't name it Eight Colors. Maybe +it's the original owner you want." + +On a sudden hope, Bart asked, "Was he, by any chance, named Rupert +Steele?" + +Raynor One made a suspicious movement. "I can't imagine why you think +so," he said guardedly. "Especially if you've just come in from Earth. +It was never very widely known. He only changed the name to Eight Colors +a few weeks ago. And it's for sure that your ship didn't get any +messages while the Lhari were in warp-drive. You mention entirely too +many names, but I notice you aren't giving out any further information." + +"I'm looking for a man called Rupert Steele." + +"I thought you were looking for Raynor Three," said Raynor One, staring +at the Mentorian cloak. "I can think of a lot of people who might want +to know how I react to certain names, and find out if I know the wrong +people, if they are the wrong people. What makes you think I'd admit it +if I did?" + +Now, Bart thought, they had reached a deadlock. Somebody had to trust +somebody. This could go on all night--parry and riposte, question and +evasive answer, each of them throwing back the other's questions in a +verbal fencing-match. Raynor One wasn't giving away any information. +And, considering what was probably at stake, Bart didn't blame him much. + +He flung the Mentorian cloak down on the table. + +"This got me out of trouble--the hard way," he said. "I never wore one +before and I never intend to again. I want to find Rupert Steele because +he's my father!" + +"Your father. And just how are you going to prove that exceptionally +interesting statement?" + +Without warning, Bart lost his temper. + +"I don't care whether I prove it or not! _You_ try proving something for +a change, why don't you? If you know Rupert Steele, I don't have to +prove who I am--just take a good look at me! Or so Briscoe told me--a +man who called himself Briscoe, anyway. He gave me papers to travel +under that name! I didn't ask for them, he shoved them into my hand. +_That_ Briscoe is dead." Bart struck his fist hard on the desk, bending +over Raynor One angrily. + +"He sent me to find a man named Raynor Three. But the only one I really +care about finding is my father. Now you know as much as I do, how about +giving _me_ some information for a change?" + +He ran out of breath and stood glaring down at Raynor One, fists +clenched. Raynor One got up and said, quick, savage and quiet, "Did +anyone see you come here?" + +"Only the girl downstairs." + +"How did you get through the Lhari? In that?" He moved his head at the +Mentorian cloak. + +Bart explained briefly, and Raynor One shook his head. + +"You were lucky," he said, "you could have been blinded. You must have +inherited flash-accommodation from the Mentorian side--Rupert Steele +didn't have it. I'll tell you this much," he added, sitting down again. +"In a manner of speaking, you're my boss. Eight Colors--it used to be +Alpha Transshipping--is what they call a middleman outfit. The +interplanet cargo lines transport from planet to planet within a +system--that's free competition--and the Lhari ships transport from star +to star--that's a monopoly all over the galaxy. The middleman outfits +arrange for orderly and businesslike liaison between the two. Rupert +Steele bought into this company, a long time ago, but he left it for me +to manage, until recently." + +Raynor punched a button, said to the image of the glossy girl at the +desk, "Violet, get Three for me. You may have to send a message to the +_Multiphase_." + +He swung round to Bart again. "You want a lot of explanations? Well, +you'll have to get 'em from somebody else. I don't know what this is all +about. I don't _want_ to know: I have to do business with the Lhari. The +less I know, the less I'm apt to say to the wrong people. But I promised +Three that if you turned up, or if anyone came and asked for the Eighth +Color, I'd send you to him. That's all." + +He motioned Bart ungraciously to a seat, and shut his mouth firmly, as +if he had already said too much. Bart sat. After a while he heard the +elevator again; the panel slid open and Raynor Three came into the room. + +It had to be Raynor Three; there was no one else he could have been. He +was as like Raynor One as Tweedledum to Tweedledee: tall, stern, ascetic +and grim. He wore the full uniform of a Mentorian on Lhari ships: the +white smock of a medic, the metallic blue cloak, the low silvery +sandals. + +He said, "What's doing, One? Violet--" and then he caught sight of Bart. +His eyes narrowed and he drew a quick breath, his face twisting up into +apprehension and shock. + +"It must be Steele's boy," he said, and immediately Bart saw the +difference between the--were they brothers? For Raynor One's face, +controlled and stern, had not altered all during their interview, but +Raynor Three's smile was wry and kindly at once, and his voice was low +and gentle. "He's the image of Rupert. Did he come in on his own name? +How'd he manage it?" + +"No. He had David Briscoe's papers." + +"So the old man got through," said Raynor Three, with a low whistle. +"But that's not safe. Quick, give them to me, Bart." + +"The Lhari have them." + +Raynor One walked to the window and said in his deadpan voice, "It's +useless. But get the kid out of here before they come looking for me. +Look." + +He pointed. Below them, the streets were alive with uniformed Lhari and +Mentorians. Bart felt sick. + +"If they had the same efficiency with red tape that we humans have, he'd +never have made it this far." + +Raynor Three actually smiled. "But you can count on them for that much +inefficiency," he said, and his eyes twinkled for a moment at Bart. +"That's how it was so easy to work the old double-shuffle trick on them. +They had Steele's description but not his name, so Briscoe took Steele's +papers and managed to slip through. Once they landed on Earth, they had +the Steele _names_, but by the time that cleared, you were outbound with +another set of papers. It may have confused them, because they knew +_David_ Briscoe was dead--and there was just a chance you were an +innocent bystander who could raise a real row if they pulled you in. Did +old Briscoe get away?" + +"No," Bart said, harshly, "he's dead." + +Raynor Three's mobile face held shocked sadness. "Two brave men," he +said softly, "Edmund Briscoe the father, David Briscoe the son. Remember +the name, Bart, because I won't remember it." + +"Why not?" + +Raynor Three gave him a gold-glinting, enigmatic glance. "I'm a +Mentorian, remember? I'm good at not remembering things. Just be glad I +remember Rupert Steele. If you'd been a few days later, I wouldn't have +remembered him, though I promised to wait for you." + +Raynor One demanded, "Get him _out_ of here, Three!" + +Raynor Three swung to Bart. "Put that on again." He indicated the +Mentorian cloak. "Pull the hood right up over your head. Now, if we meet +anyone, say a polite good afternoon in Lhari--you _can_ speak +Lhari?--and leave the rest of the talking to me." + +Bart felt like cringing as they came out into the street full of Lhari; +but Raynor Three whispered, "Attack is the best defense," and went up to +one of the Lhari. "What's going on, _rieko mori_?" + +"A passenger on the ship got away without going through Decontam. He may +spread disease, so of course we have alerted all authorities," the Lhari +said. + +As the Lhari strode past, Raynor Three grimaced. "Clever, that. Now the +whole planet will be hunting for any stranger, worrying themselves into +fits about some unauthorized germ. We'd better get you to a safe place. +My country house is a good way off, but I have a copter." + +Bart demanded, as they climbed in, "Are you taking me to my father?" + +"Wait till we get to my place," Raynor Three said, taking the controls +and putting the machine in the air. "Just lean back and enjoy the trip, +huh?" + +Bart relaxed against the cushions, but he still felt apprehensive. Where +was his father? If he was a fugitive from the Lhari, he might by now be +at the other end of the galaxy. But if his father couldn't travel on +Lhari ships, and if he had been here, the chances were that he was still +somewhere in the Procyon system. + +They flew for a long time; across low hills, patchwork agricultural +districts, towns, and then for a long time over water. The copter had +automatic controls, but Raynor Three kept it on manual, and Bart +wondered if the Mentorian just didn't want to talk. + +It began to descend, at last, toward a small green hill, bright in the +last gold rays on sunset. A small domelike pink bubble rose out of the +hill. Raynor Three set the copter neatly down on a platform that slid +shut after them, unfastened their seat belts and gave Bart a hand to +climb out. + +He ushered him into a living room of glass and chrome, softly lighted, +but deserted and faintly dusty. Raynor pushed a switch; soft music came +on, and the carpets caressed his feet. He motioned Bart to a chair. + +"You're safe here, for a while," Raynor Three said, "though how long, +nobody knows. But so far, I've been above suspicion."' + +Bart leaned back; the chair was very comfortable, but the comfort could +not help him to relax. + +"Where is my father?" he demanded. + +Raynor Three stood looking down at him, his mobile face drawn and +strange. "I guess I can't put it off any longer," he said softly. Then +he covered his face with his hands. From behind them hoarse words came, +choked with emotion. + +"Your father is dead, Bart. I--I killed him." + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +For a moment Bart stared, frozen, unable to move, his very ears refusing +the words he heard. Had this all been another cruel trick, then, a trap, +a betrayal? He rose and looked wildly around the room, as if the glass +walls were a cage closing in on him. + +"Murderer!" he flung at Raynor, and took a step toward him, his clenched +fists coming up. He'd been shoved around too long, but here he had one +of them right in front of him, and for once he'd hit back! He'd start by +taking Raynor Three apart--in small pieces! "You--you rotten murderer!" + +Raynor Three made no move to defend himself. "Bart," he said +compassionately, "sit down and listen to me. No, I'm no murderer. I--I +shouldn't have put it that way." + +Bart's hands dropped to his sides, but he heard his voice crack with +pain and grief: "I suppose you'll tell me he was a spy or a traitor and +you _had_ to kill him!" + +"Not even that. I tried to save your father, I did everything I could. +I'm no murderer, Bart. I killed him, yes--God forgive me, because I'll +never forgive myself!" + +Bart's fists unclenched and he stared down at Raynor Three, shaking his +head in bewilderment and pain. "I knew he was dead! I knew it all along! +I was trying not to believe it, but I knew!" + +"I liked your father. I admired him. He took a long chance, and it +killed him. I could have stopped him, I should have stopped him, but how +could I? Where did I have the right to stop him, after what I did +to--" he stopped, almost in mid-word, as if a switch had been turned. + +But Bart was not listening. He swung away, striding to the wall as if he +would kick it in, striking it with his two clenched fists, his whole +being in revolt. _Dad, oh, Dad! I kept going, I thought at the end of it +you'd be here and it would all be over. But here I am at the end of it +all, and you're not here, you won't ever be here again._ + +Dimly, he knew when Raynor Three rose and left him alone. He leaned his +head on his clenched fists, and cried. + +After a long time he raised his head and blew his nose, his face setting +itself in new, hard, unaccustomed lines, slowly coming to terms with the +hard, painful reality. His father was dead. His dangerous, +dead-in-earnest game of escape had no happy ending of reunion with his +father. They couldn't sit together and laugh about how scared he had +been. His father was _dead_, and he, Bart, was alone and in danger. His +face looked very grim indeed, and years older than he was. + +After a long time Raynor Three opened the door quietly. "Come and have +something to eat, Bart." + +"I'm not hungry." + +"Well, I am," Raynor Three said, "and you ought to be. You'll need it." +He pulled knobs and the appropriate tables and chairs extruded +themselves from the walls. Raynor unsealed hot cartons and spread them +on the table, saying lightly, "Looks good--not that I can claim any +credit, I subscribe to a food service that delivers them hot by +pneumatic tube." + +Bart felt sickened by the thought of eating, but when he put a polite +fork in the food, he discovered that he was famished and ate up +everything in sight. When they had finished, Raynor dumped the cartons +into a disposal chute, went to a small portable bar and put a glass into +his hand. + +"Drink this." + +Bart touched his lips to the glass, made a face and put it away. +"Thanks, but I don't drink." + +"Call it medicine, you'll need something," Raynor Three said crossly. +"I've got a lot to tell you, and I don't want you going off half-primed +in the middle of a sentence. If you'd rather have a shot of +tranquilizer, all right; otherwise, I prescribe that you drink what I +gave you." He gave Bart a quick, wry grin. "I really am a medic, you +know." + +Feeling like a scolded child, Bart drank. It burned his mouth, but after +it was down, he felt a sort of warm burning in his insides that +gradually spread a sense of well-being all through him. It wasn't +alcohol, but whatever it was, it had quite a kick. + +"Thanks," he muttered. "Why are you taking this trouble, Raynor? There +must be danger--" + +"Don't you know--" Raynor broke off. "Obviously, you don't. Your mother +never said much about your Mentorian family tree, I suppose? She was a +Raynor." He smiled at Bart, a little ruefully. "I won't claim a +kinsman's privileges until you decide how much to trust me." + +Raynor Three settled back. + +"It's a long story and I only know part of it," he began. "Our family, +the Raynors, have traded with the Lhari for more generations than I can +count. When I was a young man, I qualified as a medic on the Lhari +ships, and I've been star-hopping ever since. People call us the slaves +of the Lhari--maybe we are," he added wryly. "But I began it just +because space is where I belong, and there's nowhere else that I've ever +wanted to be. And I'll take it at any price. + +"I never questioned what I was doing until a few years ago. It was your +father who made me wonder if we Mentorians were blind and selfish--this +privilege ought to belong to everyone, not just the Lhari. More and +more, the Lhari monopoly seemed wrong to me. But I was just a medic. And +if I involved myself in any conspiracy against the Lhari, they'd find it +out in the routine psych-checking. + +"And then we worked out how it could be done. Before every trip, with +self-hypnosis and self-suggestion, I erase my own memories--a sort of +artificial amnesia--so that the Lhari can't find out any more than I +want them to find out. Of course, it also means that I have no memory, +while I'm on the Lhari ships, of what I've agreed to while I'm--" His +face suddenly worked, and his mouth moved without words, as if he had +run into some powerful barrier against speech. + +It was a full minute, while Bart stared in dismay, before he found his +voice again, saying, "So far, it was just a sort of loose network, +trying to put together stray bits of information that the Lhari didn't +think important enough to censor. + +"And then came the big breakthrough. There was a young Apprentice +astrogator named David Briscoe. He'd taken some runs in special test +ships, and read some extremely obscure research data from the early days +of the contact between men and Lhari, and he had a wild idea. He did the +bravest thing anyone has ever done. He stripped himself of all +identifying data--so that if he died, no one would be in trouble with +the Lhari--and stowed away on a Lhari ship." + +"But--" Bart's lips were dry--"didn't he die in the warp-drive?" + +Slowly, Raynor Three shook his head. + +"No, he didn't. No drugs, no cold-sleep--but he didn't die. Don't you +see, Bart?" He leaned forward, urgently. + +"_It's all a fake!_ The Lhari have just been saying that to justify +their refusal to give us the secret of the catalyst that generates the +warp-drive frequencies! Such a simple lie, and it's worked for all these +years!" + + * * * * * + +"A Mentorian found him and didn't have the heart to turn him over to the +Lhari. So he was smuggled clear again. But when that Mentorian underwent +the routine brain-checks at the end of the voyage, the Lhari found out +what had happened. They didn't know Briscoe's name, but they wrung that +Mentorian out like a wet dishcloth and got a description that was as +good as fingerprints. They tracked down young Briscoe and killed him. +They killed the first man he'd talked to. They killed the second. The +third was your father." + +"The murdering devils!" + +Raynor sighed. "Your father and Briscoe's father were old friends. +Briscoe's father was dying with incurable heart disease; _his_ son was +dead, and old Briscoe had only one thought in his mind--to make sure he +didn't die for nothing. So he took your father's papers, knowing they +were as good as a death warrant, slipped away and boarded a Lhari ship +that led roundabout to stars where the message hadn't reached yet. He +led them a good chase. Did he die or did they track him down and kill +him?" Bart bowed his head and told the story. + +"Meanwhile," Raynor Three continued, "your father came to me, knowing I +was sympathetic, knowing I was a Lhari-trained surgeon. He had just one +thought in his mind: to do, again, what David Briscoe had done, and make +sure the news got out this time. He cooked up a plan that was even +braver and more desperate. He decided to sign on a Lhari ship as a +member of the crew." + +"As a Mentorian?" Bart asked, but something cold, like ice water +trickling down his back, told him this was not what Raynor meant. "The +brainwashing--" + +"No," said Raynor, "not as a Mentorian; he couldn't have escaped the +psych-checking. _As a Lhari._" + +Bart gasped. "How--" + +"Men and Lhari are very much alike," Raynor Three said. "A few small +things--skin color, the shape of the ears, the hands and claws--keep +humans from seeing that the Lhari are men." + +"Don't say that," Bart almost yelled. "Those filthy, murdering devils! +You call those monsters men?" + +"I've lived among the Lhari all my life. They're not devils, Bart, they +have their reasons. Physiologically, the Lhari are--well, _humanoid_, if +you like that better. They're a lot more like a man than a man is like, +for instance, a gorilla. Your father convinced me that with minor +plastic and facial surgery, he could pass as a Lhari. And finally I gave +in, and did the surgery--" + +"And it killed him!" + +"Not really. It was a completely unforeseeable thing--a blood clot broke +loose in a vein, and lodged in his brain. He was dead in seconds. It +could have happened at any time," he said, "yet I feel responsible, even +though I keep telling myself I'm not. And I'll help you as much as I +can--for his sake, and for your mother's. The Lhari don't watch me too +closely--they figure that anything I do they'll catch in the +brainwashing. But I'm still one step ahead of them, as long as I can +erase my own memories." + +Bart was sifting it all, slowly, in his mind. + +"Why was Dad doing this? What could he gain?" + +"You know we can build ships as good as the Lhari ships, but we don't +know anything about the rare catalyst they use for warp-drive fuel. +Captain Steele had hopes of being able to discover where they got it." + +"But couldn't they find out where the Lhari ships go for fueling?" + +"No. There's no way to trail a Lhari ship," he reminded Bart. "We can +follow them inside a star-system, but then they pop into warp-drive, and +we don't know where they go when they aren't running between _our_ +stars. + +"We've gathered together what information we _do_ have, and we know that +after a certain number of runs in our part of the galaxy, ships take off +in the direction of Antares. There's a ship, due to come in here in +about ten days, called the _Swiftwing_, which is just about due to make +the Antares run. Captain Steele had managed to arrange--I don't know +how, and I don't want to know how--for a vacancy on that ship, and +somehow he got credentials. You see, it's a very good spy system, a +network between the stars, but the weak link is this: everything, every +message, every man, has to travel back and forth by the Lhari ships +themselves." + +He rose, shaking it all off impatiently. "Well, it's finished now. Your +father is dead. What are you going to do? If you want to go back to +Vega, you can probably convince the Lhari you're just an innocent +bystander. They _don't_ hurt bystanders or children, Bart. They aren't +bad people. They're just protecting their business monopoly. + +"The safest way to handle it would be this: let me erase your memories +of what I've told you tonight. Then just let the Lhari capture you. They +won't kill you. They'll just give you a light psych-check. When they +find out you don't know anything, they'll send you back to Vega, and you +can spend the rest of your life in peace, running Vega Interplanet and +Eight Colors." + +Bart turned on him furiously. "You mean, go home like a good little boy, +and pretend none of this ever happened? What do you think I am, anyhow?" +Bart's chin set in the new, hard line. "What I want is a chance to go on +where Dad left off!" + +"It won't be easy, and it could be dangerous," Raynor Three said, "but +there's nothing else to be done. We had the arrangements all made; and +now somebody's got to take the dangerous risk of calling them off. Are +you game for a little plastic surgery--just enough to change your looks +again, with new forged papers? You can't go by the _Swiftwing_--it +doesn't carry passengers--but there's another route you can take." + +Bart sprang up. "No," he said, "I know a better way. Let me go on the +_Swiftwing_--in Dad's place--_as a Lhari_!" + +"Bart, no," Raynor Three said. "You'd never get away with it. It's too +dangerous." But his gold eyes glinted. + +"Why not? I speak Lhari better than Dad ever did. And my eyes can stand +Lhari lights. You said yourself, it's going to be a dangerous job just +calling off all the arrangements. So let's _not_ call them off. Just let +me take Dad's place!" + +"Bart, you're only a boy--" + +"What was Dave Briscoe? No, Raynor. Dad left me a lot more than Vega +Interplanet, and you know it. I'll finish what he started, and then +maybe I'll begin to deserve what he left me." + +Raynor Three gripped Bart's hand. He said, in a voice that shook, "All +right, Bart. You're your father's son. I can't say more than that. I +haven't any right to stop you." + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +"All right, Bart, today we'll let you look at yourself," Raynor Three +said. + +Bart smiled under the muffling layers of bandage around his face. His +hands were bandaged, too, and he had not been permitted to look in a +mirror. But the transition had been surprisingly painless--or perhaps +his sense of well-being had been due to Raynor Three slipping him some +drug. + +He'd been given injections of a chemical that would change the color of +his skin; there had been minor operations on his face, his hands, his +feet. + +"Let's see you get up and walk around." + +Bart obeyed awkwardly, and Raynor frowned. "Hurt?" + +"Not exactly, but I feel as if I were limping." + +"That's to be expected. I changed the angle of the heel tendon and the +muscle of the arch. You're using a different set of muscles when you +walk; until they harden up, you'll have some assorted Charley horses. +Have any trouble hearing me?" + +"No, though I'd hear better without all these bandages," Bart said +impatiently. + +"All in good time. Any trouble breathing?" + +"No, except for the bandages." + +"Fine. I changed the shape of your ears and nostrils, and it might have +affected your hearing or your breathing. Now, listen, Bart: I'm going to +take the bandages off your hands first. Sit down." + +Bart sat across the table from him, obediently sticking out his hands. +Raynor Three said, "Shut your eyes." + +Bart did as he was told and felt Raynor Three's long fingers working at +the bandages. + +"Move each finger as I touch it." Bart obeyed, and Raynor said +neutrally, "Good. Now, take a deep breath and then open your eyes." + +Impatiently Bart flicked his lids open. In spite of the warning, his +breath went out in a harsh, jolting gasp. His hands lay on the table +before him--but they were not his hands. + +The narrow, long fingers were pearl-gray, tipped with whitish-pink claws +that curved out over the tips. Nervously Bart moved one finger, and the +long claw flicked out like a cat's, retracted. He swallowed. + +"Golly!" He felt strangely wobbly. + +"A beautiful job, if I do say so. Be careful not to scratch yourself, +and practice picking up small things." + +Bart saw that the long grayish claws were trembling. "How did you +make--the claws?" + +"Quite simple, really," Raynor beamed. "I injected protein compounds +into the nail matrix, which speeded up nail growth terrifically, and +then, as they grew, shaped them. Joining on those tiny muscles for the +retracting mechanism was the tricky part though." + +Bart was moving his hands experimentally. Once over the shock, they felt +quite normal. The claws didn't get in his way half so much as he'd +expected when he picked up a pen that lay beside him and, with the blunt +tip, made a few of the strange-looking dots and wedges that were the +Lhari alphabet. + +"Practice writing this," said Raynor Three, and laid a plastic-encased +folder down beside him. It was a set of ship's papers printed in Lhari. +Bart read it through, seeing that it was made out to the equivalent of +Astrogator, First Class, Bartol. + +"That's your name now, the name your father would have used. Memorize +it, get used to the sound of it, practice writing it. Don't worry too +much about the rating; it's an elementary one, what we'd call Apprentice +rating, and I have a training tape for you anyhow. My brother got hold +of it, don't ask me how--and don't ask him!" + +"When am I going to see my face?" + +"When I think you're ready for the shock," Raynor said bluntly. "It +almost threw you when I showed you your hands." + +He made Bart walk around some more briefly, slowly, he unwound the +bandages; then turned and picked up a mirror at the bottom of his +medic's case, turning it right side up. "Here. But take it easy." + +But when Bart looked in the mirror he felt no unexpected shock, only an +unnerving revulsion. + +His hair was bleached-white and fluffy, almost feathery to the touch. +His skin was grayish-rose, and his eyelids had been altered just enough +to make his eyes look long, narrow and slanted. His nostrils were mere +slits, and he moved his tongue over lips that felt oddly thin. + +"I did as little to your teeth as I thought I could get away with-capped +the front ones," Raynor Three told him. "So if you get a toothache +you're out of luck--you won't dare go to a Lhari dentist. I could have +done more, but it would have made you look too freakish when we changed +you back to human again--if you live that long," he added grimly. + +_I hadn't thought about that. And if Raynor is going to forget me, who +will do it?_ The cold knot of fear, never wholly absent, moved in him +again. + +Watching his face, Raynor Three said gently, "It's a big network, Bart. +I'm not telling you much, for your own safety. But when you get to +Antares, they'll tell you all you need to know." + +He lifted Bart's oddly clawed hands. "I warned you, remember--the change +isn't completely reversible. Your hands will always look--strange. The +fingers had to be lengthened, for instance. I wanted to make you as safe +as possible among the Lhari. I think you'll pass anything but an X-ray. +Just be careful not to break any bones." + +He gave Bart a package. "This is the Lhari training tape. Listen to it +as often as you can, then destroy it--_completely_--before you leave +here. The _Swiftwing_ is due in port three days from now, and they stay +here a week. I don't know how we'll manage it, but I'll guarantee +there'll be a vacancy of one Astrogator, First Class, on that ship." He +rose. "And now I'm going back to town and erase the memory." He stopped, +looking intently at Bart. + +"So if you see me, stay away from me and don't speak, because I won't +know you from any other Lhari. Understand? From here on, you're on your +own, Bart." + +He held out his hand. "This is the rough part, Son." His face moved +strangely. "I'm part of this network between the stars, but I don't know +what I've done before, and I'll never know how it comes out. It's funny +to stand here and look at you and realize that I won't even remember +you." The gold-glinted eyes blinked rapidly. "Goodbye, Bart. And--good +luck, Son." + +Bart took his hand, deeply moved, with the strange sense that this was +another death--a worse one than Briscoe's. He tried to speak and +couldn't. + +"Well--" Raynor's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Ouch! Careful with +those claws. The Lhari don't shake hands." + +He turned abruptly and went out of the door and out of Bart's life, +while Bart stood at the dome-window, feeling alone as he had never felt +alone before. + + * * * * * + +He had to wait six days, and they felt like six eternities. He played +the training tape over and over. With his Academy background, it wasn't +nearly so difficult as he'd feared. He read and reread the set of papers +identifying him as Astrogator, First Class, Bartol. Forged, he supposed. +Or was there, somewhere, a real Bartol? + +The last morning he slept uneasily late. He finished his last meal as a +human, spent part of the day removing all traces of his presence from +Raynor's home, burned the training tape, and finally got into the silky, +silvery tights and cloak that Raynor had provided. He could use his +hands now as if they belonged to him; he even found the claws handy and +useful. He could write his signature, and copy out instructions from the +training tape, without a moment's hesitation. + +Toward dusk, a young Lhari slipped unobserved out of Raynor's house and +hiked unnoticed to the edges of a small city nearby, where he mingled +with the crowd and hired a skycab from an unobservant human driver to +take him to the spaceport city. The skycab driver was startled, but not, +Bart judged, unusually so, to pick up a Lhari passenger. + +"Been doing a little sight-seeing on our planet, hey?" + +"That's right," Bart said in Universal, not trying to fake his idea of +the Lhari accent. Raynor had told him that only a few of the Lhari had +that characteristic sibilant "r" and "s" and warned him against trying +to imitate it. _Just speak naturally; there are dialects of Lhari, just +as there are dialects of the different human languages, and they all +sound different in Universal anyhow._ "Just looking around some." + +The skycab driver frowned and looked down at his controls, and Bart felt +curiously snubbed. Then he remembered. He himself had little to say to +the Lhari when they spoke to him. + +_He was an alien, a monster. He couldn't expect to be treated like a +human being any more._ + +When the skycab let him off before the spaceport, it felt strange to see +how the crowds edged away from him as he made a way through them. He +caught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirror-ramps, a tall thin +strange form in a metallic cloak, head crested with feathery white, and +felt overwhelmingly homesick for his own familiar face. + +He was beginning to feel hungry, and realized that he could not go into +an ordinary restaurant without attracting attention. There were +refreshment stands all over the spaceport, and he briefly considered +getting a snack at one of these. + +No, that was just putting it off. The time had to come when he must face +his fear and test his disguise among the Lhari themselves. Reviewing his +knowledge of the construction of spaceports, he remembered that one side +was the terminal, where humans and visitors and passengers were freely +admitted; the other side, for Lhari and their Mentorian employees only, +contained--along with business offices of many sorts--a sort of arcade +with amusement centers, shops and restaurants catering to the personnel +of the Lhari ships. With nine or ten ships docking every day, Raynor had +assured him that a strange Lhari face would be lost in the crowds very +easily. + +He went to one of the doors marked DANGER, LHARI LIGHTS BEYOND, and +passed through the glaring corridor of offices and storage-warehouses, +finally coming out into a sort of wide mall. The lights were fierce, but +he could endure them without trouble now, though his head ached faintly. +Raynor, testing his light tolerance, had assured him that he could endure +anything the Lhari could, without permanent damage to his optic nerves, +though he would have headaches until he got used to them. + +There were small shops and what looked like bars, and a glass-fronted +place with a sign lettered largely, in black letters, a Lhari phrase +meaning roughly HOME AWAY FROM HOME: MEALS SERVED, SPACEMEN WELCOME, +REASONABLE. + +Behind him a voice said in Lhari, "Tell me, does that sign mean what it +says? Or is this one of those traps for separating the unwary spaceman +from his hard-earned credits? How's the food?" + +Bart carefully took hold of himself. + +"I was just wondering that myself." He turned as he spoke, finding +himself face to face with a young Lhari in the unadorned cloak of a +spaceman without official rank. He knew the Lhari was young because his +crest was still white. + +The young Lhari extended his claws in the closed-fist, hidden-claw +gesture of Lhari greeting. "Shall we take a chance? Ringg son of Rahan +greets you." + +"Bartol son of Berihun." + +"I don't remember seeing you in the port, Bartol." + +"I've mostly worked on the Polaris run." + +"Way off there?" Ringg son of Rahan sounded startled and impressed. "You +really get around, don't you? Shall we sit here?" + +They sat on triangular chairs at a three-cornered table. Bart waited for +Ringg to order, and ordered what he did. When it came, it was a sort of +egg-and-fish casserole which Bart found extremely tasty, and he dug into +it with pleasure. Allowing for the claws, Lhari table manners were not +so much different from human--_and remember, their customs differ as +much as ours do. If you do something differently, they'll just think +you're from another planet with a different culture._ + +"Have you been here long?" + +"A day or so. I'm off the _Swiftwing_." + +Bart decided to hazard his luck. "I was told there's a vacancy on the +_Swiftwing_." + +Ringg looked at him curiously. "There is," he said, "but I'd like to +know how you found it out. Captain Vorongil said that anyone who talked +about it would be sent to Kleeto for three cycles. But what happened to +you? Miss your ship?" + +"No, I've just been laying off--traveling, sight-seeing, bumming +around," Bart said. "But I'm tired of it, and now I'd like to sign out +again." + +"Well, we could use another man. This is the long run we're making, out +to Antares and then home, and if everybody has to work extra shifts, +it's no fun. But if old Vorongil knows that there's been talk in the +port about Klanerol jumping ship, or whatever happened to him, we'll all +have to walk wide of his temper." + +Bart was beginning to relax a little; Ringg apparently accepted him +without scrutiny. At this close range Ringg did not seem a monster, but +just a young fellow like himself, hearty, good-natured--in fact, not +unlike Tommy. + +Bart chased the thought away as soon as it sneaked into his brain--one +of those _things_, like _Tommy_? Then, rather grimly, he reminded +himself, _I'm one of those things_. He said irritably, "So how do I +account for asking your captain for the place?" + +Ringg cocked his fluffy crest to one side. "I know," he said, "_I_ told +you. I'll say you're an old friend of mine. You don't know what +Vorongil's like when he gets mad. But what he doesn't know, he won't +shout about." He shoved back the triangular chair. "Who _did_ tell you, +anyway?" + +This was the first real hurdle, and Bart's brain raced desperately, but +Ringg was not listening for an answer. "I suppose somebody gossiped, or +one of those fool Mentorians picked it up. Got your papers? What +rating?" + +"Astrogator first class." + +"Klanerol was second, but you can't have everything, I suppose." Ringg +led the way through the arcades, out across a guarded sector, passing +half a dozen of the huge ships lying in their pits. Finally Ringg +stopped and pointed. "This is the old hulk." + +Bart had traveled only in Lhari passenger ships, which were new and +fresh and sleek. This ship was enormous, ovoid like the egg of some +space-monster, the sides dented and discolored, thin films of chemical +discoloration lying over the glassy metallic hull. + +Bart followed Ringg. This was real, it was happening. He was signing out +for his first interstellar cruise on one of the Lhari ships. Not a +Mentorian assistant, half-trusted, half-tolerated, but one of the crew +themselves. _If I'm lucky_, he reminded himself grimly. + +There was Lhari, in the black-banded officer's cloak, at the doorway. He +glanced at Ringg's papers. + +"Friend of mine," Ringg said, and Bart proffered his folder. The Lhari +gave it a casual glance, handed it back. + +"Old Baldy on board?" Ringg asked. + +"Where else?" The officer laughed. "You don't think _he'd_ relax with +cargo not loaded, do you?" + +They seemed casual and normal, and Bart's confidence was growing. They +had accepted him as one of themselves. But the great ordeal still lay +before him--an interview with the Lhari captain. And the idea had Bart +sweating scared. + +The corridors and decks seemed larger, wider, more spacious, but +shabbier than on the clean, bright, commercial passenger decks Bart had +seen. Dark-lensed men were rolling bales of cargo along on wheeled +dollies. The corridors seemed endless. More to hear the sound of his own +voice, and reassure himself of his ability to speak and be understood, +than because he cared, he asked Ringg, "What's your rating?" + +"Well, according to the logbooks, I'm an Expert Class Two, +Metals-Fatigue," said Ringg. "That sounds very technical and +interesting. But what it means is just that I go all over the ship inch +by inch, and when I finish, start all over again at the other end. Most +of what I do is just boss around the maintenance crews and snarl at them +about spots of rust on the paint." + +They got into a small round elevator and Ringg punched buttons; it began +to rise, slowly and creakily, toward the top. "This, for instance," +Ringg said. "I've been yelling for a new cable for six months." He +turned. "Take it easy, Bartol; don't let Vorongil scare you. He likes to +hear the sound of his own voice, but we'd all walk out the lock without +spacesuits for him." + +The elevator slid to a stop. The sign in Lhari letters said _Level of +Administration--Officers' Deck_. Ringg pushed at a door and said, +"Captain Vorongil?" + +"I thought you were on leave," said a Lhari voice, deeper and slower +than most. "What are you doing, back here more than ten milliseconds +before strap-in checks?" + +Ringg stepped back for Bart to go inside. The small cabin, with an +elliptical bunk slung from the ceiling and a triangular table, was +dwarfed by a tall, thin Lhari, in a cloak with four of the black bands +that seemed to denote rank among them. He had a deeply lined face with a +lacework of tiny wrinkles around the slanted eyes. His crest was not the +high, fluffy white of a young Lhari, but broken short near the scalp, +grayish pink showing through, the little feathery ends yellowed with +age. He growled, "Come in then, don't stand there. I suppose Ringg's +told you what a tyrant I am? What do you want, feathertop?" + +Bart remembered being told that this was the Lhari equivalent of "Kid" +or "Youngster." He fumbled in the capacious folds of his cloak for his +papers. His voice sounded shrill, even to himself. + +"Bartol son of Berihun in respectful greeting, _rieko mori_." +("Honorable old-bald-one," the Lhari equivalent of "sir.") "Ringg told +me there is a vacancy among the Astrogators, and I want to sign out." + +Unmistakably, Vorongil's snort was laughter. + +"So you've been talking, Ringg?" + +Ringg retorted, "Better that I tell one man than that you have to hunt +the planet over--or run the long haul with the drive-room watches short +by one man." + +"Well, well, you're right," Vorongil growled. He glared at Bart. "On the +last planet, one of our men disappeared. Jumped ship!" The creases +around his eyes deepened, troubled. "Probably just gone on the drift, +sight-seeing, but I wish he'd told me. As it is, I wonder if he's been +hurt, killed, kidnaped." + +Ringg said, "Who'd dare? It would be reported." + +Bart knew, with a cold chill, that the missing Klanerol had not simply +gone "on the drift." No Lhari port would ever see Klanerol, Second Class +Astrogator, again. + +"Bartol," mused the captain, riffling the forged papers. "Served on the +Polaris run. Hm--you _are_ a good long way off your orbit, aren't you? +Never been out that way myself. All right, I'll take you on. You can do +system programming? Good. Rating in Second Galaxy mathematics?" + +He nodded, hauled out a sheet of thin, wax-coated fabric and his claws +made rapid imprints in the surface. He passed it to Bart, pointed. Bart +hesitated, and Vorongil said impatiently, "Standard agreement, no hidden +clauses. Put your mark on it, feathertop." + +Bart realized it was something like a fingerprint they wanted. _You'll +pass anything but X-rays._ He pressed the top of one claw into the wax. +Vorongil nodded, shoved it on a shelf without looking at it. + +"So much for that," said Ringg, laughing, as they came out. "The Bald +One was in a good temper. I'm going to the port and celebrate, not that +this dim place is very festive. You?" + +"I--I think I'll stay aboard." + +"Well, if you change your mind, I'll be down there somewhere," Ringg +said. "See you later, shipmate." He raised his closed fist in farewell, +and went. + +Bart stood in the corridor, feeling astounded and strange. He _belonged_ +here! He had a right to be on board the ship! He wasn't quite sure what +to do next. + +A Lhari, as short and fat as a Lhari could possibly be and still be a +Lhari, came or rather waddled out of the captain's office. He saw Bartol +and called, "Are you the new First Class? I'm Rugel, coordinator." + +Rugel had a huge cleft darkish scar across his lip, and there were two +bands on his cloak. He was completely bald, and he puffed when he +walked. "Vorongil asked me to show you around. You'll share quarters +with Ringg--no sense shifting another man. Come down and see the chart +rooms--or do you want to leave your kit in your cabin first?" + +"I don't have much," Bart said. + +Rugel's seamed lip widened. "That's the way--travel light when you're on +the drift," he confirmed. + +Rugel took him down to the drive rooms, and here for a moment, in wonder +and awe, Bart almost forgot his disguise. The old Lhari led him to the +huge computer which filled one wall of the room, and Bart was smitten +with the universality of mathematics. Here was something he _knew_ he +could handle. + +He could do this programming, easily enough. But as he stood before the +banks of complex, yet beautifully familiar levers, the sheer exquisite +complexity of it overcame him. To compute the movements of thousands of +stars, all moving at different speeds in different directions in the +vast swirling directionless chaos of the Universe--and yet to be sure +that every separate movement would come out to within a quarter of a +mile! It was something that no finite brain--man or Lhari--could ever +accomplish, yet their limited brains had built these computers that +_could_ do it. + +Rugel watched him, laughing softly. "Well, you'll have enough time down +here. I like to have youngsters who are still in the middle of a love +affair with their work. Come along, and I'll show you your cabin." + +Rugel left him in a cabin amidships; small and cramped, but tidy, two of +the oval bunks slung at opposite ends, a small table between them, and +drawers filled with pamphlets and manuals and maps. Furtively, ashamed +of himself, yet driven by necessity, Bart searched Ringg's belongings, +wanting to get some idea of what possessions he ought to own. He looked +around the shower and toilet facilities with extra care--this was +something he _couldn't_ slip up on and be considered even halfway +normal. He was afraid Ringg would come in, and see him staring curiously +at something as ordinary, to a Lhari, as a cake of soap. + +He decided to go down to the port again and look around the shops. He +was not afraid of being unable to handle his work. What he feared was +something subtler--that the small items of everyday living, something as +simple as a nail file, would betray him. + +On his way he looked into the Recreation Lounge, filled with comfortable +seats, vision-screens, and what looked like simple pinball machines and +mechanical games of skill. There were also stacks of tapereels and +headsets for listening, not unlike those humans used. Bart felt +fascinated, and wanted to explore, but decided he could do that later. + +Somehow he took the wrong turn coming out of the Recreation Lounge, and +went through a door where the sudden dimming of lights told him he was +in Mentorian quarters. The sudden darkness made him stumble, thrust out +his hands to keep from falling, and an unmistakably human voice said, +"Ouch!" + +"I'm sorry," Bart said in Universal, without thinking. + +"I admit the lights are dim," said the voice tartly, and Bart found +himself looking down, as his eyes adjusted to the new light level, at a +girl. + +She was small and slight, in a metallic blue cloak that swept out, like +wings, around her thin shoulders; the hood framed a small, kittenlike +face. She was a Mentorian, and she was human, and Bart's eyes rested +with comfort on her face; she, on the other hand, was looking up with +anxiety and uneasy distrust. _That's right--I'm a Lhari, a nonhuman +freak!_ + +"I seem to have missed my way." + +"What are you looking for, sir? The medical quarters are through here." + +"I'm looking for the elevator down to the crew exits." + +"Through here," she said, reopening the door through which he had come, +and shading her large, lovely, long-lashed eyes with a slender hand. +"You took the wrong turn. Are you new on board? I thought all ships were +laid out exactly alike." + +"I've only worked on passenger ships." + +"I believe they are somewhat different," said the girl in good Lhari. +"Well, that is your way, sir." + +He felt as if he had been snubbed and dismissed. + +"What is your name?" + +She stiffened as if about to salute. "Meta of the house of Marnay Three, +sir." + +Bart realized he was doing something wholly out of character for a +Lhari--chatting casually with a Mentorian. With a wistful glance at the +pretty girl, he said a stiff "Thank you" and went down the ramp she had +indicated. He felt horribly lonely. Being a freak wasn't going to be +much fun. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + + +He saw the girl again next day, when they checked in for blastoff. She +was seated at a small desk, triangular like so much of the Lhari +furniture, checking a register as they came out of the Decontam room, +making sure they downed their greenish solution of microorganisms. + +"Papers, please?" She marked, and Bart noticed that she was using a red +pencil. + +"Bartol," she said aloud. "Is that how you pronounce it?" She made small +scribbles in a sort of shorthand with the red pencil, then made other +marks with the black one in Lhari; he supposed the red marks were her +own private memoranda, unreadable by the Lhari. + +"Next, please." She handed a cup of the greenish stuff to Ringg, behind +him. Bart went down toward the drive room, and to his own surprise, +found himself wishing the girl were a mathematician rather than a medic. +It would have been pleasant to watch her down there. + +Old Rugel, on duty in the drive room, watched Bart strap himself in +before the computer. "Make sure you check all dials at null," he +reminded him, and Bart felt a last surge of panic. + +This was his first cruise, except for practice runs at the Academy! Yet +his rating called him an experienced man on the Polaris run. He'd had +the Lhari training tape, which was supposed to condition his responses, +but would it? He tried to clench his fists, drove a claw into his palm, +winced, and commanded himself to stay calm and keep his mind on what he +was doing. + +It calmed him to make the routine check of his dials. + +"Strapdown check," said a Lhari with a yellowed crest and a rasping +voice. "New man, eh?" He gave Bart's straps perfunctory tugs at +shoulders and waist, tightened a buckle. "Karol son of Garin." + +Bells rang in the ship, and Bart felt the odd, tonic touch of fear. +_This was it._ + +Vorongil strode through the door, his banded cloak sweeping behind him, +and took the control couch. + +"Ready from fueling room, sir." + +"Position," Vorongil snapped. + +Bart heard himself reading off a string of figures in Lhari. His voice +sounded perfectly calm. + +"Communication." + +"Clear channels from Pylon Dispatch, sir." It was old Rugel's voice. + +"Well," Vorongil said, slowly and almost reflectively, "let's take her +up then." + +He touched some controls. The humming grew. Then, swift, hard and +crushing, weight mashed Bart against his couch. + +"Position!" Vorongil's voice sounded harsh, and Bart fought the crushing +weight of it. Even his eyeballs ached as he struggled to turn the tiny +eye muscles from dial to dial, and his voice was a dim croak: "Fourteen +seven sidereal twelve point one one four nine...." + +"Hold it to point one one four six," Vorongil said calmly. + +"Point one one four six," Bart said, and his claws stabbed at dials. +Suddenly, in spite of the cold weight on his chest, the pain, the +struggle, he felt as if he were floating. He managed a long, luxurious +breath. He _could_ handle it. He knew what he was doing. + +_He was an Astrogator...._ + +Later, when Acceleration One had reached its apex and the artificial +gravity made the ship a place of comfort again, he went down to the +dining hall with Ringg and met the crew of the _Swiftwing_. There were +twelve officers and twelve crewmen of various ratings like himself and +Ringg, but there seemed to be little social division between them, as +there would have been on a human ship; officers and crew joked and +argued without formality of any kind. + +None of them gave him a second look. Later, in the Recreation Lounge, +Ringg challenged him to a game with one of the pinball machines. It +seemed fairly simple to Bart; he tried it, and to his own surprise, won. + +Old Rugel touched a lever at the side of the room. With a tiny whishing +sound, shutters opened, the light of Procyon Alpha flooded them and he +looked out through a great viewport into bottomless space. + +Procyon Alpha, Beta and Gamma hung at full, rings gently tilted. Beyond +them the stars burned, flaming through the shimmers of cosmic dust. The +colors, the never-ending colors of space! + +And he stood here, in a room full of monsters--_he was one of the +monsters_-- + +"Which one of the planets was it we stopped on?" Rugel asked. "I can't +tell 'em apart from this distance." + +Bartol swallowed; he had almost said _the blue one_. He pointed. +"The--the big one there, with the rings almost edge-on. I think they +call it Alpha." + +"It's their planet," said Rugel. "I guess they can call it what they +want to. How about another game?" + +Resolutely, Bart turned his back on the bewitching colors, and bent over +the pinball machine. + + * * * * * + +The first week in space was a nightmare of strain. He welcomed the hours +on watch in the drive room; there alone he was sure of what he was +doing. Everywhere else in the ship he was perpetually scared, +perpetually on tiptoe, perpetually afraid of making some small and +stupid mistake. Once he actually called Aldebaran a red star, but Rugel +either did not hear the slip or thought he was repeating what one of the +Mentorians--there were two aboard besides the girl--had said. + +The absence of color from speech and life was the hardest thing to get +used to. Every star in the manual was listed by light-frequency waves, +to be checked against a photometer for a specific reading, and it almost +drove Bart mad to go through the ritual when the Mentorians were off +duty and could not call off the color and the equivalent frequency type +for him. Yet he did not dare skip a single step, or someone might have +guessed that he could _see_ the difference between a yellow and a green +star before checking them. + +The Academy ships had had the traditional human signal system of +flashing red lights. Bart was stretched taut all the time, listening for +the small codelike buzzers and ticks that warned him of filled tanks, +leads in need of servicing, answers ready. Ringg's metal-fatigues +testing kit was a bewildering muddle of boxes, meters, rods and +earphones, each buzzing and clicking its characteristic warning. + +At first he felt stretched to capacity every waking moment, his memory +aching with a million details, and lay awake nights thinking his mind +would crack under the strain. Then Alpha faded to a dim bluish shimmer, +Beta was eclipsed, Gamma was gone, Procyon dimmed to a failing spark; +and suddenly Bart's memory accustomed itself to the load, the new habits +were firmly in place, and he found himself eating, sleeping and working +in a settled routine. + +He belonged to the _Swiftwing_ now. + +Procyon was almost lost in the viewports when a sort of upswept tempo +began to run through the ship, an undercurrent of increased activity. +Cargo was checked, inventoried and strapped in. Ringg was given four +extra men to help him, made an extra tour of the ship, and came back +buzzing like a frantic cricket. Bart's computers told him they were +forging toward the sidereal location assigned for the first of the +warp-drive shifts, which would take them some fifteen light-years toward +Aldebaran. + +On the final watch before the warp-drive shift, the medical officer came +around and relieved the Mentorians from duty. Bart watched them go, with +a curious, cold, crawling apprehension. Even the Mentorians, trusted by +the Lhari--even these were put into cold-sleep! Fear grabbed his +insides. + +_No human had ever survived the shift into warp-drive_, the Lhari said. +Briscoe, his father, Raynor Three--they thought they had proved that the +Lhari lied. If they were right, if it was a Lhari trick to reinforce +their stranglehold on the human worlds and keep the warp-drive for +themselves, then Bart had nothing to fear. But he was afraid. + +Why did the Mentorians endure this, never quite trusted, isolated among +aliens? + +Raynor Three had said, _Because I belong in space, because I'm never +happy anywhere else_. Bart looked out the viewport at the swirl and burn +of the colors there. Now that he could never speak of the colors, it +seemed he had never been so wholly and wistfully aware of them. They +symbolized the thing he could never put into words. + +_So that everyone can have this. Not just the Lhari._ + +Rugel watched the Mentorians go, scowling. "I wish medic would find a +way to keep them alive through warp," he said. "My Mentorian assistant +could watch that frequency-shift as we got near the bottom of the arc, +and I'll bet she could _see_ it. They can see the changes in intensity +faster than I can plot them on the photometer!" + +Bart felt goosebumps break out on his skin. Rugel spoke as if the +certain death of humans, Mentorians, was a fact. Didn't the Lhari +themselves know it was a farce? _Or was it?_ + +Vorongil himself took the controls for the surge of Acceleration Two, +which would take them past the Light Barrier. Bart, watching his +instruments to exact position and time, saw the colors of each star +shift strangely, moment by moment. The red stars seemed hard to see. The +orange-yellow ones burned suddenly like flame; the green ones seemed +golden, the blue ones almost green. Dimly, he remembered the old story +of a "red shift" in the lights of approaching stars, but here he saw it +pure, a sight no human eyes had ever seen. A sight that _no_ eyes had +seen, human or otherwise, for the Lhari could not see it.... + +"Time," he said briefly to Vorongil, "Fifteen seconds...." + +Rugel looked across from his couch. Bart felt that the old, scarred +Lhari could read his fear. Rugel said through a wheeze, "No matter how +old you get, Bartol, you're still scared when you make a warp-shift. But +relax, computers don't make mistakes." + +"Catalyst," Vorongil snapped, "Ready--_shift!_" + +At first there was no change; then Bart realized that the stars, through +the viewport, had altered abruptly in size and shade and color. They +were not sparks but strange streaks, like comets, crossing and +recrossing long tails that grew, longer and longer, moment by moment. +The dark night of space was filled with a crisscrossing blaze. They were +moving faster than light, they saw the light left by the moving Universe +as each star hurled in its own invisible orbit, while they tore +incredibly through it, faster than light itself.... + +Bart felt a curious, tingling discomfort, deep in his flesh; almost an +itching, a stinging in his very bones. + +_Lhari flesh is no different from ours...._ + +Space, through the viewport, was no longer space as he had come to know +it, but a strange eerie limbo, the star-tracks lengthening, shifting +color until they filled the whole viewport with shimmering, gray, +recrossing light. The unbelievable reaction of warp-drive thrust them +through space faster than the lights of the surrounding stars, faster +than imagination could follow. + +The lights in the drive chamber began to dim--or was he blacking out? +The stinging in his flesh was a clawed pain. + +Briscoe lived through it.... + +_They say._ + +The whirling star-tracks fogged, coiled, turned colorless worms of +light, went into a single vast blur. Dimly Bart saw old Rugel slump +forward, moaning softly; saw the old Lhari pillow his bald head on his +veined arms. Then darkness took him; and thinking it was death, Bart +felt only numb, regretful failure. _I've failed, we'll always fail. The +Lhari were right all long._ + +_But we tried! By God, we tried!_ + +"Bartol?" A gentle hand, cat claws retracted, came down on his shoulder. +Ringg bent over him. Good-natured rebuke was in his voice. "Why didn't +you tell us you got a bad reaction, and ask to sign out for this shift?" +he demanded. "Look, poor old Rugel's passed out again. He just won't +admit he can't take it--but one idiot on a watch is enough! Some people +just feel as if the bottom's dropped out of the ship, and that's all +there is to it." + +Bart hauled his head upright, fighting a surge of stinging nausea. His +bones itched inside and he was damnably uncomfortable, but he was alive. + +"I'm--fine." + +"You look it," Ringg said in derision. "Think you can help me get Rugel +to his cabin?" + +Bart struggled to his feet, and found that when he was upright he felt +better. "Wow!" he muttered, then clamped his mouth shut. He was supposed +to be an experienced man, a Lhari hardened to space. He said woozily, +"How long was I out?" + +"The usual time," Ringg said briskly, "about three seconds--just while +we hit peak warp-drive. Feels longer, so they tell me, sometimes--time's +funny, beyond light-speeds. The medic says it's purely psychological. +I'm not so sure. I _itch_, blast it!" + +He moved his shoulders in a squirming way, then bent over Rugel, who was +moaning, half insensible. "Catch hold of his feet, Bartol. Here--ease +him out of his chair. No sense bothering the medics this time. Think you +can manage to help me carry him down to the deck?" + +"Sure," Bart said, finding his feet and his voice. He felt better as +they moved along the hallway, the limp, muttering form of the old Lhari +insensible in their arms. They reached the officer's deck, got Rugel +into his cabin and into his bunk, hauled off his cloak and boots. Ringg +stood shaking his head. + +"And they say Captain Vorongil's so tough!" + +Bart made a questioning noise. + +"Why, just look," said Ringg. "He knows it would make poor old Rugel +feel as if he wasn't good for much--to order him into his bunk and make +him take dope like a Mentorian for every warp-shift. So we have this to +go through at every jump!" He sounded cross and disgusted, but there was +a rough, boyish gentleness as he hauled the blanket over the bald old +Lhari. He looked up, almost shyly. + +"Thanks for helping me with Old Baldy. We usually try to get him out +before Vorongil officially takes notice. Of course, he sort of keeps his +back turned," Ringg said, and they laughed together as they turned back +to the drive room. Bart found himself thinking, _Ringg's a good kid_, +before he pulled himself up, in sudden shock. + +He _had_ lived through warp-drive! Then, indeed, the Lhari had been +lying all along, the vicious lie that maintained their stranglehold +monopoly of star-travel. He was their enemy again, the spy within their +gates, like Briscoe, to be hunted down and killed, but to bring the +message, loud and clear, to everyone: _The Lhari lied! The stars can +belong to us all!_ + +When he got back to the drive room, he saw through the viewport that the +blur had vanished, the star-trails were clear, distinct again, their +comet-tails shortening by the moment, their colors more distinct. + +The Lhari were waiting, a few poised over their instruments, a few more +standing at the quartz window watching the star-trails, some squirming +and scratching and grousing about "space fleas"--the characteristic +itching reaction that seemed to be deep down inside the bones. + +Bart checked his panels, noted the time when they were due to snap back +into normal space, and went to stand by the viewport. The stars were +reappearing, seeming to steady and blaze out in cloudy splendor through +the bright dust. They burned in great streamers of flame, and for the +moment he forgot his mission again, lost in the beauty of the fiery +lights. He drew a deep, shaking gasp. It was worth it all, to see this! +He turned and saw Ringg, silent, at his shoulder. + +"Me, too," Ringg said, almost in a whisper. "I think every man on board +feels that way, a little, only he won't admit it." His slanted gray eyes +looked quickly at Bart and away. + +"I guess we're almost down to L-point. Better check the panel and report +nulls, so medic can wake up the Mentorians." + + * * * * * + +The _Swiftwing_ moved on between the stars. Aldebaran loomed, then faded +in the viewports; another shift jumped them to a star whose human name +Bart did not know. Shift followed shift, spaceport followed spaceport, +sun followed sun; men lived on most of these worlds, and on each of them +a Lhari spaceport rose, alien and arrogant. And on each world men looked +at Lhari with resentful eyes, cursing the race who kept the stars for +their own. + +Cargo amassed in the holds of the _Swiftwing_, from worlds beyond all +dreams of strangeness. Bart grew, not bored, but hardened to the +incredible. For days at a time, no word of human speech crossed his +mind. + +The blackout at peak of each warp-shift persisted. Vorongil had given +him permission to report off duty, but since the blackouts did not +impair his efficiency, Bart had refused. Rugel told him that this was +the moment of equilibrium, the peak of the faster-than-light motion. + +"Perhaps a true limiting speed beyond which nothing will ever go," +Vorongil said, touching the charts with a varnished claw. Rugel's +scarred old mouth spread in a thin smile. + +"Maybe there's no such thing as a limiting speed. Someday we'll reach +true simultaneity--enter warp, and come out just where we want to be, at +the same time. Just a split-second interval. That will be real +transmission." + +Ringg scoffed, "And suppose you get even better--and come out of warp +_before_ you go into it? What then, Honorable Bald One?" + +Rugel chuckled, and did not answer. Bart turned away. It was not easy to +keep on hating the Lhari. + +There came a day when he came on watch to see drawn, worried faces; and +when Ringg came into the drive room they threw their levers on +_automatic_ and crowded around him, their crests bobbing in question and +dismay. Vorongil seemed to emit sparks as he barked at Ringg, "You found +it?" + +"I found it. Inside the hull lining." + +Vorongil swore, and Ringg held up a hand in protest. "I only _locate_ +metals fatigue, sir--I don't _make_ it!" + +"No help for it then," Vorongil said. "We'll have to put down for +repairs. How much time do we have, Ringg?" + +"I give it thirty hours," Ringg said briefly, and Vorongil gave a long +shrill whistle. "Bartol, what's the closest listed spaceport?" + +Bart dived for handbooks, manuals, comparative tables of position, and +started programming information. The crew drifted toward him, and by the +time he finished feeding in the coded information, a row three-deep of +Lhari surrounded him, including all the officers. Vorongil was right at +his shoulder when Bart slipped on his earphones and started decoding the +punched strips that fed out the answers from the computer. + +"Nearest port is Cottman Four. It's almost exactly thirty hours away." + +"I don't like to run it that close." Vorongil's face was bitten deep +with lines. He turned to Ramillis, head of Maintenance. "Do we need +spare parts? Or just general repairs?" + +"Just repairs, sir. We have plenty of shielding metal. It's a long job +to get through the hulls, but there's nothing we can't fix." + +Vorongil flexed his clawed hands nervously, stretching and retracting +them. "Ringg, you're the fatigue expert. I'll take your word for it. Can +we make thirty hours?" + +Ringg looked pale and there was none of his usual boyish nonsense when +he said, "Captain, I swear I wouldn't risk Cottman. You know what +crystallization's like, sir. We can't get through that hull lining to +repair it in space, if it _does_ go before we land. We wouldn't have the +chance of a hydrogen atom in a tank of halogens." + +Vorongil's slanted eyebrows made a single unbroken line. "That's the +word then. Bartol, find us the closest star with a planet--spaceport or +not." + +Bart's hands were shaking with sudden fear. He checked each digit of +their present position, fed it into the computer, waited, finally wet +his lips and plunged, taking the strip from a computer. + +"This small star, called Meristem. It's a--" he bit his lip, hard; he +had almost said _green_--"type Q, two planets with atmosphere within +tolerable limits, not classified as inhabited." + +"Who owns it?" + +"I don't have that information on the banks, sir." + +Vorongil beckoned the Mentorian assistant. So apart were Lhari and +Mentorian on these ships that Bart did not even know his name. He said, +"Look up a star called Meristem for us." The Mentorian hurried away, +came back after a moment with the information that it belonged to the +Second Galaxy Federation, but was listed as unexplored. + +Vorongil scowled. "Well, we can claim necessity," he said. "It's only +eight hours away, and Cottman's thirty. Bartol, plot us a warp-drive +shift that will land us in that system, and on the inner of the two +planets, within nine hours. If it's a type Q star, that means dim +illumination, and no spaceport mercury-vapor installations. We'll need +as much sunlight as we can get." + +It was the first time that Bart, unaided, had had the responsibility of +plotting a warp-drive shift. He checked the coordinates of the small +green star three times before passing them along to Vorongil. Even so, +when they went into Acceleration Two, he felt stinging fear. _If I +plotted wrong, we could shift into that crazy space and come out +billions of miles away...._ + +But when the stars steadied and took on their own colors, the blaze of a +small green sun was steady in the viewport. + +"Meristem," Vorongil said, taking the controls himself. "Let's hope the +place is really uninhabited and that catalogue's up to date, lads. It +wouldn't be any fun to burn up some harmless village, or get shot at by +barbarians--and we're setting down with no control-tower signals and no +spaceport repair crews. So let's hope our luck holds out for a while +yet." + +Bart, feeling the minute, unsteady trembling somewhere in the +ship--_Imagination_, he told himself, _you can't feel metal-fatigue +somewhere in the hull lining_--echoed the wish. He did not know that he +had already had the best luck of his unique voyage, or realize the +fantastic luck that had brought him to the small green star Meristem. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + + +The crews of repairmen were working down in the hull, and the +_Swiftwing_ was a hell of clanging noise and shuddering heat. +Maintenance was working overtime, but the rest of the crew, with nothing +to do, stood around in the recreation rooms, tried to play games, cursed +the heat and the dreary dimness through the viewports, and twitched at +the boiler-factory racket from the holds. + +Toward the end of the third day, the biologist reported air, water and +gravity well within tolerable limits, and Captain Vorongil issued +permission for anyone who liked, to go outside and have a look around. + +Bart had a sort of ship-induced claustrophobia. It was good to feel +solid ground under his feet and the rays of a sun, even a green sun, on +his back. Even more, it was good to get away from the constant presence +of his shipmates. During this enforced idleness, their presence +oppressed him unendurably--so many tall forms, gray skins, feathery +crests. He was always alone; for a change, he felt that he'd like to be +alone without Lhari all around him. + +But as he moved away from the ship, Ringg dropped out of the hatchway +and hailed him. "Where are you going?" + +"Just for a walk." + +Ringg drew a deep breath of weariness. "That sounds good. Mind if I come +along?" + +Bart did, but all he could say was, "If you like." + +"How about let's get some food from the rations clerk, and do some +exploring?" + +The sun overhead was a clear greenish-gold, the sky strewn with soft +pale clouds that cast racing shadows on the soft grass underfoot, +fragrant pinkish-yellow stuff strewn with bright vermilion puff-balls. +Bart wished he were alone to enjoy it. + +"How are the repairs coming?" + +"Pretty well. But Karol got his hand half scorched off, poor fellow. +Just luck the same thing didn't happen to me." Ringg added. "You know +that Mentorian--the young one, the medic's assistant?" + +"I've seen her. Her name's Meta, I think." Suddenly, Bart wished the +Mentorian girl were with him here. It would be nice to hear a human +voice. + +"Oh, is it a female? Mentorians all look alike to me," Ringg said, while +Bart controlled his face with an effort. "Be that as it may, she saved +me from having the same thing happen. I was just going to lean against a +strip of sheet metal when she _screamed_ at me. Do you think they can +really _see_ heat vibrations? She called it _red_-hot." + +They had reached a line of tall cliffs, where a steep rock-fall divided +off the plain from the edge of the mountains. A few slender, drooping, +gold-leaved trees bent graceful branches over a pool. Bart stood +fascinated by the play of green sunlight on the emerald ripples, but +Ringg flung himself down full length on the soft grass and sighed +comfortably. "Feels good." + +"Too comfortable to eat?" + +They munched in companionable silence. "Look," said Ringg at last, +pointing toward the cliffs, "Holes in the rocks. Caves. I'd like to +explore them, wouldn't you?" + +"They look pretty gloomy to me. Probably full of monsters." + +Ringg patted the hilt of his energon-ray. "This will handle anything +short of an armor-plated saurian." + +Bart shuddered. As part of uniform, he, too, had been issued one of the +energon-rays; but he had never used it and didn't intend to. "Just the +same, I'd rather stay out here in the sun." + +"It's better than vitamin lamps," Ringg admitted, "even if it's not very +bright." + +Bart wondered, suddenly and worriedly, about the effects of green +sunburn on his chemically altered skin tone. + +"Well, let's enjoy it while we can," Ringg said, "because it seems to be +clouding over. I wouldn't be surprised if it rained." He yawned. "I'm +getting bored with this voyage. And yet I don't want it to end, because +then I'll have to fight it out all over again with my family. My father +owns a hotel, and he wants me in the family business, not five hundred +light-years away. None of our family have ever been spacemen before," he +explained, "and they don't understand that living on one planet would +drive me out of my mind." He sighed. "How did you explain it to your +people--that you couldn't be happy in the mud? Or are you a career man?" + +"I guess so. I never thought about doing anything else," Bart said +slowly, Ringg's story had touched him; he had never realized quite so +fully how much alike the two races were, how human the Lhari problems +and dreams could seem. _Why, of course, the Lhari aren't all spacemen. +They have hotel keepers and garbage men and dentists just as we do. +Funny, you never think of them except in space._ + +"My mother died when I was very young," Bart said, choosing his words +very carefully. "My father owned a fleet of interplanetary ships." + +"But you wanted the real thing, deep space, the stars," Ringg said. "How +did he feel about that?" + +"He would have understood," Bart said, unable to keep emotion out of his +voice, "but he's dead now. He died, not long ago." + +Ringg's eyes were bright with sympathy. "While you were off on the +drift? Bad luck," he said gently. He was silent, and when he spoke again +it was in a very different tone. + +"But some of the older generation--I had a professor in training school, +funny old chap, bald as the hull of the _Swiftwing_. Taught us +cosmic-ray analysis, and what he didn't know about spiral nebulae could +be engraved on my fifth toe-claw, and he'd never been off the face of +the planet. Not even to one of the moons! He was the supervisor of my +student lodge, and oh, was he a--" The phrase Ringg used meant, +literally, _a soft piece of cake_. + +"His feet may have been buried in mud, but his head was off in the Great +Nebula. We had some wild times," Ringg reminisced. "We'd slip away to +the city--strictly against rules, it was an old-style school--and draw +lots for one of us to stay home and sign in for all twelve. You see, +he'd sit there reading, and when one of us came in, just shove the wax +at us, with his nose in a text on cosmic dust, never looking up. So the +one who stayed home would scrawl a name on it, walk out the back door, +come around and sign in again. When there were twelve signed in, of +course, the old chap would go up to bed, and late that night the one who +stayed in would sneak down and let us in." + +Ringg sat up suddenly, touching his cheek. "Was that a drop of rain? And +the sun's gone. I suppose we ought to start back, though I hate to leave +those caves unexplored." + +Bart bent to gather up the debris of their meal. He flinched as +something hard struck his arm. "Ouch! What was that?" + +Ringg cried out in pain. "It's hail!" + +Sharp pieces of ice were suddenly pelting, raining down all around them, +splattering the ground with a harsh, bouncing clatter. Ringg yelled, +"Come on--it's big enough to _flatten_ you!" + +It looked to Bart as if it were at least golf-ball size, and seemed to +be getting bigger by the moment. Lightning flashed around them in sudden +glare. They ducked their heads and ran. + +"Get in under the lee of the cliffs. We couldn't possibly make it back +to the _Swift_--" Ringg's voice broke off in a cry of pain; he slumped +forward, pitched to his knees, then slid down and lay still. + +"What's the matter?" Bart, arm curved to protect his skull, bent over +the fallen Lhari, but Ringg, his forehead bleeding, lay insensible. Bart +felt sharp pain in his arm, felt the hail hard as thrown stones raining +on his head. Ringg was out cold. _If they stayed in this_, Bart thought +despairingly, _they'd both be dead!_ + +Crouching, trying to duck his head between his shoulders, Bart got his +arms under Ringg's armpits and half-carried, half-dragged him under the +lee of the cliffs. He slipped and slid on the thickening layer of ice +underfoot, lost his footing, and came down, hard, one arm twisted +between himself and the cliff. He cried out in pain, uncontrollably, and +let Ringg slip from his grasp. The Lhari boy lay like the dead. + +Bart bent over him, breathing hard, trying to get his breath back. The +hail was still pelting down, showing no signs of lessening. About five +feet away, one of the dark gaps in the cliff showed wide and menacing, +but at least, Bart thought, the hail couldn't come in there. He stooped +and got hold of Ringg again. A pain like fire went through the wrist he +had smashed against the rock. He set his teeth, wondering if it had +broken. The effort made him see stars, but he managed somehow to hoist +Ringg up again and haul him through the pelting hail toward the yawning +gap. It darkened around them, and, blessedly, the battering, bruising +hail could not reach them. Only an occasional light splinter of ice blew +with the bitter wind into the mouth of the cave. + +Bart laid Ringg down on the floor, under the shelter of the rock +ceiling. He knelt beside him, and spoke his name, but Ringg just moaned. +His forehead was covered with blood. + +Bart took one of the paper napkins from the lunch sack and carefully +wiped some of it away. His stomach turned at the deep, ugly cut, which +immediately started oozing fresh blood. He pressed the edges of the cut +together with the napkin, wondering helplessly how much blood Ringg +could lose without danger, and if he had concussion. If he tried to go +back to the ship and fetch the medic for Ringg, he'd be struck by hail +himself. From where he stood, it seemed that the hailstones were getting +bigger by the minute. + +Ringg moaned, but when Bart knelt beside him again he did not answer. +Bart could hear only the rushing of wind, the noise of the splattering +hail and a sound of water somewhere--_or was that a rustle of scales, a +dragging of strange feet?_ He looked through the darkness into the +depths of the cave, his hand on his shock-beam. He was afraid to turn +his back on it. + +_This is nonsense,_ he told himself firmly, _I'll just walk back there +and see what there is._ + +At his belt he had the small flashlamp, excessively bright, that was, +like the energon-beam shocker, a part of regulation equipment. He took +it out, shining it on the back wall of the cave; then drew a long breath +of startlement and for a moment forgot Ringg and his own pain. + +For the back wall of the cave was an exquisite fall of crystal! Minerals +glowed there, giant crystals, like jewels, crusted with strange +lichen-like growths and colors. There were pale blues and greens and, +shimmering among them, a strangely colored crystalline mineral that he +had never seen before. It was blue--_No_, Bart thought, _that's just the +light, it's more like red--no, it can't be like_ both _of them at once, +and it isn't really like either. In this light--_ + +Ringg moaned, and Bart, glancing round, saw that he was struggling to +sit up. He ran back to him, dropping to his knees at Ringg's side. "It's +all right, Ringg, lie still. We're under cover now." + +"Wha' happened?" Ringg said blurrily. "Head hurts--all sparks--all the +pretty lights--can't _see_ you!" He fumbled with loose, uncoordinated +fingers at his head and Bart grabbed at him before he poked a claw in +his eye. "Don't _do_ that," Ringg complained, "can't _see_--" + +_He must have a bad concussion then. That's a nasty cut._ Gently, he +restrained the Lhari boy's hands. + +"Bartol, what happened?" + +Bart explained. Ringg tried to move, but fell limply back. + +"Weren't you hurt? I thought I heard you cry out." + +"A cut or two, but nothing serious," Bart said. "I think the hail's +stopped. Lie still, I'd better go back to the ship and get help." + +"Give me a hand and I can walk," Ringg said, but when he tried to sit +up, he flinched, and Bart said, "You'd better lie still." He knew that +head injuries should be kept very quiet; he was almost afraid to leave +Ringg for fear the Lhari boy would have another delirious fit and hurt +himself, but there was no help for it. + +The hail had stopped, and the piled heaps were already melting, but it +was bitterly cold. Bart wrapped himself in the silvery cloak, glad of +its warmth, and struggled back across the slushy, ice-strewn meadow that +had been so pink and flowery in the sunshine. The _Swiftwing_, a +monstrous dark egg looming in the twilight, seemed like home. Bart felt +the heavenly warmth close around him with a sigh of pure relief, but the +Second Officer, coming up the hatchway, stopped in consternation: + +"You're covered with blood! The hailstorm--" + +"I'm all right," Bart said, "but Ringg's been hurt. You'll need a +stretcher." Quickly, he explained. "I'll come with you and show you--" + +"You'll do no such thing," the officer said. "You look as if you'd been +caught out in a meteor shower, feathertop! We can find the place. You go +and have those cuts attended to, and--what's wrong with your wrist? +Broken?" + +Bart heard, like an echo, the frightening words: _Don't break any bones. +You won't pass an X-ray._ + +"It's all right, sir. When I get washed up--" + +"That's an _order_," snapped the officer, "do you think, on this +pestilential unlucky planet, we can afford any _more_ bad luck? Metals +fatigue, Karol burned so badly the medic thinks he may never use his +hand again, and now you and Ringg getting yourselves laid up and out of +action? The medic will help me with Ringg; that Mentorian girl can look +after you. Get moving!" + +He hurried away, and Bart, his head beginning to hurt, walked slowly up +the ramp. His whole arm felt numb, and he supported it with his good +hand. + +In the small infirmary, Karol lay groaning in a bunk, his arm bound in +bandages, his head moving from side to side. The Mentorian girl Meta +turned, charging a hypo. She looked pale and drawn. She went to Karol, +uncovering his other arm, and made the injection; almost immediately the +moaning stopped and Karol lay still. Meta sighed and drew a hand over +her brow, brushing away feathery wisps that escaped from the cap tied +over her hair. + +"Bartol? You're hurt? Not more burns, I hope?" + +_She looks just like a fluffy little kitten_, Bart thought +incongruously. Fatigue was beginning to blur his reactions. + +"Only a few cuts," he said, in Universal, though Meta had spoken Lhari. +In his weariness and pain he was homesick for the sound of a familiar +word. "Ringg and I were both caught in the hailstorm. He's badly hurt." + +"Sit down here." + +Bart sat. Meta's hands were skillful and cool as she sponged the blood +away from his forehead and sprayed it with some pleasantly cold, +mint-smelling antiseptic. Bart leaned back, tireder than he knew, +half-closing his eyes. + +"That hail must have been enormous; we heard it through the hull. +Whatever possessed you to go out into it?" + +"It wasn't hailing when we left," Bart said wearily. "The sun was as +nice and green as it could be." He bit the words off, realizing he had +made a slip, but the girl seemed not to hear, fastening a strip of +plastic over a cut. She picked up his wrist. Bart flinched in spite of +himself, and Meta nodded. "I was afraid of that; it may be broken. +Better let me X-ray it." + +"No!" Bart said harshly. "It's all right, I just twisted it. Nothing's +broken. Just strap it up." + +"It's pretty badly swollen," the girl said, moving it gently. "Does that +hurt? I thought so." + +Bart set his teeth against a cry. "It's all right, I tell you. Just +because it's black and blue--" + +He heard her breath jolt out, her fingers clenched painfully on his +wounded wrist. She did not hear his cry this time. "And the sun was nice +and _green_," she whispered. _"What are you?"_ + +Bart felt himself slip sidewise; he thought for a moment that he would +faint where he sat. Terrified, he looked up at Meta. Their eyes met, and +she said, hardly moving her pale lips, "Your eyes--they're like mine. +Your eyelashes--dark, not white. _You're not a Lhari!_" + +The pain in his wrist suddenly blurred everything else, but Meta +suddenly realized she was gripping it; she gave a little, gentle cry, +and cradled the abused wrist in her palm. + +"No wonder you didn't want it X-rayed," she whispered. Biting her lip, +she glanced, terrified, at Karol, unconscious in the bunk. "No, he can't +hear us; I gave him a heavy shot of hypnin, poor fellow." + +"Go ahead," Bart said bitterly, "yell for your keepers." + +Her gray eyes blazed at him for a moment; then, gently, she laid his +wrist on the table, went to the infirmary door and locked it on the +inside. She turned around, her face white; even her lips had lost their +color. "Who are you?" she whispered. + +"Does it matter now?" + +Shocked comprehension swept over her face. "You don't think I'd _tell_ +them," she whispered. "I heard talk, in the Procyon port, of a spy that +had managed to get through on a Lhari ship." Her face twisted. "You--you +must know about the man on the _Multiphase_, you know they'll--make sure +I can't--hide anything dangerous to the Lhari at the end of the voyage." + +"Meta--" concern for her swept over him--"what will they do to you when +they find out that you know and--didn't tell?" + +Her gray eyes were wide as a kitten's. "Why, nothing. The Lhari would +never _hurt_ anyone, would they?" + +Brainwashed? He set his mouth grimly. "I hope you never find out +different." + +"Why would they need to?" she asked, reasonably. "They could just erase +the memory. I never heard of a Lhari actually hurting anyone. But +something like this--" She wavered, looking at him. "You look so _much_ +like a Lhari! How was it done? How could they do it? Poor fellow, you +must be the--the loneliest man in the Universe!" + +Her voice was compassionate. Bart felt his throat tighten, and had the +awful feeling that he was going to cry. He reached with his good hand +for hers, seeking the comfort of a human touch, but she flinched +instinctively away. + +_He was a monster to this pretty girl...._ + +"It looks so real," she said helplessly. "Yes, now I can see, you have +tiny moons at the base of the nail, and the Lhari don't." Her face +worked. "It's--it's horrifying! How could you--" + +There was a noise in the corridor. Meta gasped and ran to unlock the +door, stood back as the medic and the Second Officer came in, staggering +under Ringg's weight. Carefully, they put him into a bunk. The medic +straightened, shaking his crest. + +"Did you get that wrist taken care of, Bartol?" + +Meta stepped between Bart and the officer, reaching for a roll of +bandage. "I'm working on it now, _rieko mori_," she said. "It only wants +strapping up." But her fingers trembled as she wound the gauze, pulling +each fold tight. + +"How's--Ringg?" + +"Needs quiet," grunted the medic, "and a few sutures. Lucky you got him +under cover when you did." + +Ringg said weakly from his bunk, "Bartol saved my life. I can think of +plenty who'd have run for cover, instead of staying out in that stuff +long enough to drag me inside. Thanks, shipmate." + +Meta's hand, with a swift hard pressure, lingered on Bart's shoulder as +she cut the bandage and fastened the end. "I don't think that will +bother you much now," she whispered, fleetingly. "I didn't dare say it +was broken or they'd insist on X-rays. If it hurts I'll get you +something later for the pain. If you keep it strapped up tight--" + +"It will do," Bart said aloud. The tight bandage made it feel a little +better, but he felt sick and dizzy, and when the medic turned and saw +him, the officer said brusquely "Watch off for you, Bartol. I'll fix the +sign-out sheet, but you go to your cabin and get yourself at least four +hours of sleep. _That's an order._" + +Bart stumbled out of the cabin with relief. Safe in his own quarters, he +flung himself down on his bunk, shaking all over. He'd come safely +through one more nightmare, one more terror--for the moment! Had he put +Meta in danger, too? Was there no end to this ceaseless fear? Not only +for himself, but for others, the innocent bystanders who stumbled into +plots they did not understand? + +_You're doing this for the stars. It's bigger than your fear. It's +bigger than you are, or any of the others...._ + +He was beginning to think it was a lot too big for him. + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + + +The green-sun Meristem lay far behind them. Karol's burns had healed; +only a faint pattern on Ringg's forehead showed where six stitches had +closed the ugly wound in his skull. Bart's wrist, after a few days of +nightmarish pain when he tried to pick up anything heavy, had healed. +Two more warp-drive shifts through space had taken the _Swiftwing_ far, +far out to the rim of the known galaxy, and now the great crimson coal +of Antares burned in their viewports. + +Antares had twelve planets, the outermost of which--far away now, at the +furthest point in its orbit from the point of the _Swiftwing_'s entry +into the system--was a small captive sun. No larger than the planet +Earth, it revolved every ninety years around its huge primary. + +Small as it was, it was blazingly blue-white brilliant, and had a tiny +planet of its own. After their stop on Antares Seven--the largest of the +inhabited planets in this system, where the Lhari spaceport was +located--they would make a careful orbit around the great red primary, +and land on the tiny worldlet of the blue-white secondary before leaving +the Antares system. + +As Bart watched Antares growing in the viewports, he felt a variety of +emotions. On the one hand, he was relieved that as his voyage in secrecy +neared its official destination, he had as yet not incurred unmasking. + +But he felt uncertain about his father's co-conspirators. Would they +return him to human form and send him back to Vega, his part ended? Or +would they, unthinkably, demand that he go on into the Lhari Galaxy? +What would he do, if they did? + +At one moment he entertained fantasies of going on into the Lhari +worlds, returning victorious with the secret of their fueling location, +or of the star-drive itself. At another, he could not wait to be free of +it all. He longed for the society of his own people, yet ached to think +that this voyage between the stars must end so soon. + +They made planetfall at the largest Lhari spaceport Bart had seen; as +always, the Second Officer was the first to go through Decontam and +ashore, returning with exchanged mail and messages for the _Swiftwing_'s +crew. He laughed when he gave Bartol a sealed packet. "So you're not +quite the orphan we've always thought!" + +Bart took it, his heart suddenly pounding, and walked away through the +groups of officers and crew eagerly debating how they would spend their +port leave. He knew what it would be. + +It was on the letterhead of Eight Colors, and it contained no message. +Only an address--and a time. + +He slipped away unobserved to the Mentorian part of the ship to borrow a +cloak from Meta. She did not ask why he wanted it, and stopped him when +he would have told her. "I'd--rather not know." + +She looked very small and very scared, and Bart wished he could comfort +her, but he knew she would shrink from him, repelled and horrified by +his Lhari skin, hair, claws. + +Yet she reached for his hand, gripping it hard in her own dainty one. +"Bartol, be careful," she whispered, then stopped. "Bartol--that's a +Lhari name. What's your real one?" + +"Bart. Bart Steele." + +"Good luck, Bart." There were tears in her gray eyes. + +With the blue cloak folded around his face, hands tucked in the slits at +the side, he felt almost like himself. And as the strange crimson +twilight folded down across the streets, laden with spicy smells and +little, fragrant gusts of wind, he almost savored the sense of being a +conspirator, of playing for high stakes in a network of intrigue between +the stars. He was off on an adventure, and meant to enjoy it. + +The address he had been given was a lavish estate, not far from the +spaceport, across a little gleaming lake that shimmered red, indigo, +violet in the crimson sunset, surrounded by a low wall of what looked +like purple glass. Bart, moving slowly through the gate, felt that eyes +were watching him, and forced himself to walk with slow dignity. + +Up the path. Up a low flight of black-marble stairs. A door swung open +and shut again, closing out the red sunset, letting him into a room that +seemed dim after the months of Lhari lights. There were three men in the +room, but his eyes were drawn instantly to one, standing against an +old-fashioned fireplace. + +He was very tall and quite thin, and his hair was snow-white, though he +did not look old. Bart's first incongruous thought was, _He'd make a +better Lhari than I would._ His firm, commanding voice told Bart at once +that this was the man in charge. "You are Bartol?" He extended his hand. + +Bart took it--and found himself gripped in a judo hold. The other two +men, leaping to place behind him, felt all over his body, not gently. + +"No weapons, Montano." + +"Look here--" + +"Save it," Montano said. "If you're the right person, you'll understand. +If not, you won't have much time to resent it. A very simple test. What +color is that divan?" + +"Green." + +"And those curtains?" + +"Darker green, with gold and red figures." + +The men released him, and the white-haired man smiled. + +"So you actually did it, Steele! I thought for sure the code message was +a fake." He stepped back and looked Bart over from head to foot, +whistling. "Raynor Three is a genius! Claws and everything! What a deuce +of a risk to take though!" + +"You know my name," Bart said, "but who are you?" + +Suspicion came back into the dark eyes. "Does that Mentorian cloak +mean--you've lost your memories, too?" + +"No," said Bart, "it's simpler than that. I'm not Rupert Steele. +I'm--" his voice caught--"I'm his son." + +The man looked startled and shocked. "I suppose that means Rupert is +dead. Dead! It came a little before he expected it, then. So you're +Bart." He sighed. "My name's Montano. This is Hedrick, and I suppose you +recognize Raynor Two." + +Bart blinked. It was the same face, but it was not grim like Raynor +One's, nor expressive and kindly like that of Raynor Three. This one +just looked dangerous. + +"But sit down," Montano said with a wave of his hand, "make yourself +comfortable." + +Hedrick relieved Bart of his cloak; Raynor Two put a cup of some +steaming drink in his hand, passed him a tray of small hot fried things +that tasted crisp and delicious. Bart relaxed, answering questions. _How +old? Only seventeen? And you came all alone on a Lhari ship, working +your way as Astrogator? I must say you've got guts, kid!_ It was +dangerously like the fantasy he had invented. But Montano interrupted at +last. + +"All right, this isn't a party and we haven't all night. I don't suppose +Bart has either. Enough time wasted. Since you walked into this, young +Steele, I take it you know what our plans are, after this?" + +Bart shook his head. "No. Raynor Three sent me to call off your plans, +because of my father--" + +"That sounds like Three," interrupted Raynor Two. "Entirely too +squeamish!" + +Montano said irritably, "We couldn't have done anything without a man on +the _Swiftwing_, and you know it. We still can't. Bart, I suppose you +know about Lharillis." + +"Not by that name." + +"Your next stop. The planetoid of the captive sun. That little hunk of +bare rock out there is the first spot the Lhari visited in this +galaxy--even before Mentor. It's an inferno of light from that little +blue-white sun, so of course they love it--it's just like home to them. +When they found that the inner planets of Antares were inhabited, they +built their spaceport here, so they'd have a better chance at trade." +Montano scowled fiercely. + +"But they wanted that little worldlet. So we went all over it to be sure +there were no rare minerals there, and finally leased it to them, a +century at a time. They mine the place for some kind of powdered +lubricant that's better than graphite--it's all done by robot machinery, +no one's stationed there. Every time a Lhari ship comes through this +system they stop there, even though there's nothing on Lharillis except +a landing field and some concrete bunkers filled with robot mining +machinery. They'll stop there on the way out of this system--and that's +where you come in. We need you on board, to put the radiation counter +out of commission." + +He took a chart from a drawer, spread it out on a table top. "The +simplest way would be to cut these two wires. When the Lhari land, we'll +be there, waiting for them. On board the Lhari ship, there must be full +records--coordinates of their home world, of where they go for their +catalyst fuel--all that." + +Bart whistled. "But won't the crew defend the ship? You can't fight +energon-ray guns!" + +Montano's face was perfectly calm. "No. We won't even try." He handed +Bart a small strip of pale-yellow plastic. + +"Keep this out of sight of the Mentorians," he said. "The Lhari won't be +able to see the color, of course. But when it turns orange, take cover." + +"What is it?" + +"Radiation-exposure film. It's exactly as sensitive to radiation as you +are. When it starts to turn orange, it's picking up radiation. If you're +aboard the ship, get into the drive chambers--they're lead-lined--and +you'll be safe. If you're out on the surface, you'll be all right inside +one of the concrete bunkers. But get under cover before it turns red, +because by that time every Lhari of them will be stone-cold dead." + +Bart let the strip of plastic drop, staring in disbelief at Montano's +cold, cruel face. "Kill them? Kill a whole _shipload_ of them? That's +_murder_!" + +"Not murder. War." + +"We're not at war with the Lhari! We have a treaty with them!" + +"The Federation has, because they don't dare do anything else," Montano +said, his face taking on the fanatic's light, "but some of us dare do +something, some of us aren't going to sit forever and let them strangle +all humanity, hold us down, let us _die_! It's war, Bart, war for +economic survival. Do you suppose the Lhari would hesitate to kill +anyone if we did anything to hurt their monopoly of the stars? Or didn't +they tell you about David Briscoe, how they hunted him down like an +animal--" + +"But how do we know that was Lhari policy, and not just--some fanatic?" +Bart asked suddenly. He thought of the death of the elder Briscoe, and +as always he shivered with the horror of it, but for the first time it +came to him: _Briscoe had provoked his own death. He had physically +attacked the Lhari--threatened them, goaded them to shoot him down in +self-defense!_ "I've been on shipboard with them for months. They're not +wanton murderers." + +Raynor Two made a derisive sound. "Sounds like it might be Three +talking!" + +Hedrick growled, "Why waste time talking? Listen, young Steele, you'll +do as you're told, or else! Who gave you the right to argue?" + +"Quiet, both of you." Montano came and laid his arm around Bart's +shoulders, persuasively. "Bart, I know how you feel. But can't you trust +me? You're Rupert Steele's son, and you're here to carry on what your +father left undone, aren't you? If you fail now, there may not be +another chance for years--maybe not in our lifetimes." + +Bart dropped his head in his hands. _Kill a whole shipload of +Lhari--innocent traders? Bald, funny old Rugel, stern Vorongil, Ringg--_ + +"I don't know what to do!" It was a cry of despair. Bart looked +helplessly around at the men. + +Montano said, almost tenderly, "You couldn't side with the Lhari against +men, could you? Could a son of Rupert Steele do that?" + +Bart shut his eyes, and something seemed to snap within him. His father +had died for this. He might not understand Montano's reasons, but he had +to believe that Montano had them. + +"All right," he said, thickly, "you can count on me." + +When he left Montano's house, he had the details of the plan, had +memorized the location of the device he was to sabotage, and accepted, +from Montano, a pair of dark contact lenses. "The light's hellish out +there," Montano warned. "I know you're half Mentorian, but they don't +even take their Mentorians out there. They're proud of saying no human +foot has ever touched Lharillis." + +When he got back to the Lhari spaceport, Ringg hailed him. "Where have +you been? I hunted the whole port for you! I wouldn't join the party +till you came. What's a pal for?" + +Bart brushed by him without speaking, disregarding Ringg's surprised +stare, and went up the ramp. He reached his own cabin and threw himself +down in his bunk, torn in two. + +Ringg was his friend! Ringg liked him! And if he did what Montano +wanted, Ringg would die. + +Ringg had followed him, and was standing in the cabin door, watching him +in surprise. "Bartol, is something the matter? Is there anything I can +do? Have you had more bad news?" + +Bart's torn nerves snapped. He raised his head and yelled at Ringg, +"Yes, there is something! You can quit following me around and just let +me alone for a change!" + +Ringg took a step backward. Then he said, very softly, "Suit yourself, +Bartol. Sorry." And noiselessly, his white crest held high, he glided +away. + +Bart's resolve hardened. Loneliness had done odd things to him--thinking +of Ringg, a Lhari, one of the freaks who had killed his father, as a +friend! If they knew who he was, they would turn on him, hunt him down +as they'd hunted Briscoe, as they'd hunted his father, as they'd hounded +him from Earth to Procyon. He put his scruples aside. He'd made up his +mind. + +They could all die. What did he care? He was human and he was going to +be loyal to his own kind. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + + +But although he thought he had settled all the conflict, he found that +it returned when he was lying in his bunk, or when he stood in the dome +and watched the stars, while they moved through the Antares system +toward the captive sun and the tiny planet Lharillis. + +_It's in my power to give this to all men...._ + +Should a few Lhari stand in his way? + +He lay in his bunk brooding, thinking of death, staring at the yellow +radiation badge. _If you fail, it won't be in our lifetime._ He'd have +to go back to little things, to the little ships that hauled piddling +cargo between little planets, while all the grandeur of the stars +belonged to the Lhari. And if he succeeded, Vega Interplanet could +spread from star to star, a mighty memorial to Rupert Steele. + +One day Vorongil sent for him. "Bartol," he said, and his voice was not +unkind, "you and Ringg have always been good friends, so don't be angry +about this. He's worried about you--says you spend all your spare time +in your bunk growling at him. Is there anything the matter, feathertop?" + +He sounded so concerned, so--the word struck Bart with hysterical +humor--so _fatherly_, that Bart wanted insanely to laugh and to cry. +Instead he muttered, "Ringg should mind his own business." + +"But it's not like that," Vorongil said. "Look, the _Swiftwing_'s a +world, young fellow, and a small one. If one being in that world is +unhappy, it affects everyone." + +Bart had an absurd, painful impulse--to blurt out the incredible truth +to Vorongil, and try to get the old Lhari to understand what he was +doing. + +But fear held him silent. He was alone, one small human in a ship of +Lhari. Vorongil was frowning at him, and Bart mumbled, "It's nothing, +_rieko mori_." + +"I suppose you're pining for home," Vorongil said kindly. "Well, it +won't be long now." + +The glare of the captive sun grew and grew in the ports, and Bart's +dread mounted. He had, as yet, had no opportunity to put the radiation +counter out of order. It was behind a panel in the drive room, and try +as he might, he could think of no way to get to it unobserved. +Sometimes, in sleepless nights, it seemed that would be the best way. +Just let it go. But then the Lhari would detect Montano's ship, and kill +Montano and his men. + +Did he believe that? He had to believe it. It was the only way he could +possibly justify what he was doing. + +And then his chance came, as so many chances do when one no longer wants +them. The Second Officer met him at the beginning of one watch, saying +worriedly, "Bartol, old Rugel's sick--not fit to be on his feet. Do you +think you can hold down this shift alone, if I drop in and give you a +hand from time to time?" + +"I think so," Bart said, carefully not overemphasizing it. The Second +Officer, by routine, spent half of his time in the drive room, and half +his time down below in Maintenance. When he left, Bart knew he would +have at least half an hour, uninterrupted, in the drive room. He ripped +open the panel, located the wires and hesitated; he didn't quite dare to +cut them outright. + +He jerked one wire loose, frayed the other with a sharp claw until it +was almost in shreds and would break with the first surge of current, +pulled two more connections loose so that they were not making full +contact. He closed the panel and brushed dust over it, and when the +Second Officer came back, Bart was at his own station. + +As Antares fell toward them in the viewport, he found himself worrying +about Mentorians. They would be in cold sleep, presumably in a safe part +of the ship, behind shielding, or Montano would have made provisions for +them. Still, he wished there were a way to warn Meta. + +He was not on watch when they came into the planetary field of +Lharillis, but when he came on shift, he knew at once that the trouble +had been located. The panel was pulled open, the exposed wires hanging, +and Ringg was facing old Rugel, shouting, "Listen, Baldy, I won't have +you accusing me of going light on my work! I checked those panels eight +days ago! Tell me who's going to be opening the panels in here anyhow?" + +"No, no," Rugel said patiently, "I'm not accusing you of anything, only +being careless, young Ringg. You poke with those buzzing instruments and +things, maybe once you tear loose some wires." + +Bart remembered he wasn't supposed to know what was going on. "What's +this all about?" + +It was Rugel who answered. "The radiation counter--the planetary one, +not the one we use in space--is out of order. We don't even need it this +landing--there's no radiation on Lharillis. If it were the landing gear, +now, that would be serious. I'm just trying to tell Ringg--" + +"He's trying to say I didn't check it." Ringg was not to be calmed. +"It's my professional competence--" + +"Forget it," Bart said. "If Rugel isn't sore about it, and if we don't +need it for landing, why worry?" He felt like Judas. + +"Just take a look at my daybook," Ringg insisted, "I checked and marked +it _service fit_! I tell you, somebody was blundering around, opening +panels where they had no business, tore it out by accident, then was too +much of a filthy sneak to report it and get it fixed!" + +"Bartol was on watch alone one night," said the Second Officer, "but you +wouldn't meddle with panels, would you, Bartol?" + +Bart set his teeth, steadying his breathing, as Ringg turned hopefully +to him. "Bartol, did you--by mistake, maybe? Because if you did, it +won't count against your rating, but it means a black mark against +mine!" + +Bart hid his self-contempt in sudden, tense fury. "No, I didn't! You're +going to accuse everybody on the _Swiftwing_, all the way from me to +Vorongil, before _you_ can admit a mistake, aren't you? If you want +somebody to blame, look in a mirror!" + +"Listen, you!" Ringg's pent-up rage exploded. He seized Bart by the +shoulder and Bart moved to throw him off, so that Ringg's outthrust +claws raked only his forearm. In pure reflex he felt his own claws flick +out; they clinched, closed, scuffled, and he felt his claws rake flesh; +half incredulous, saw the thin red line of blood welling from Ringg's +cheek. + +Then Rugel's arms were flung restrainingly around him, and the Second +Officer was wrestling with a furious, struggling Ringg. Bart looked at +his red-tipped claws in ill-concealed horror, but it was lost in a +general gasp of consternation, for Vorongil had flung the drive room +door open, taking in the scene in one blistering glance. + +_"What's going on down here?"_ + +For the first time, Bart understood Vorongil's reputation as a tyrant. +One glance at Ringg's bleeding face and Bart's ripped forearm, and he +did not pause for breath for a good fifteen minutes. By the time he +finished, Bart felt he would rather Ringg's claws had laid him bleeding +to the bone than stand there in the naked contempt of the old Lhari's +freezing eyes. + +"Half-fledged nestlings trying to do a man's work! So someone forgot the +panel, or damaged the panel by mistake--no, not another word," he +commanded, as Ringg's crest came proudly up. "I don't care who did what! +Any more of this, and the one who does it can try his claws on the +captain of the _Swiftwing_!" He looked ugly and dangerous. "I thought +better of you both. Get below, you squalling kittens! Let me not see +your faces again before we land!" + +As they went along the corridor, Ringg turned to Bart, apology and +chagrin in his eyes. "Look--I never meant to get the Bald One down on +us," he said, but Bart kept his face resolutely averted. It was easier +this way, without pretense of friendship. + + * * * * * + +The light from the small captive sun grew more intense. Bart had never +known anything like it, and was glad to slip away and put the dark +contact lenses into his eyes. They made his eyes appear all enormous, +dilated pupil; fearfully, he hoped no one would notice. His arm smarted, +and he did not speak to Ringg all through the long, slow deceleration. + +When the intercom ordered all crew members to the hatchway, Bart +lingered a minute, pinning the yellow radiation badge in a fold of his +cloak. A spasm of fear threatened to overwhelm him again, and +nightmarish loneliness. He felt agonizingly homesick for his own +familiar face. It seemed almost more than he could manage, to step out +into the corridor full of Lhari. + +_It won't be long now._ + +The hatch opened. Even accustomed, as he was, to Lhari lights, Bart +squeezed his eyes shut at the blue-white brilliance that assaulted him +now. Then, opening slitted lids cautiously, he found that he could see. + +A weirdly desolate scene stretched away before them. Bare, burning sand, +strewn with curiously colored rocks, lay piled in strange chaos; then he +realized there was an odd, but perceptible geometry to their +arrangement. They showed alternate crystal and opaque faces. Old Rugel +noted his look of surprise. + +"Never been here before? That's right, you've always worked on the +Polaris run. Well, those aren't true rocks, but living creatures of a +sort. The crystals are alive; the opaque faces are lichens that have +something like chlorophyll and can make their food from air and +sunlight. The rocks and lichens live in symbiosis. They have +intelligence of a sort, but fortunately they don't mind us, or our +automatic mining machinery. Every time, though, we find some new lichen +that's trying to set up a symbiote cycle with the concrete of our +bunkers." + +"And every time," Ringg said cheerfully, "somebody--usually me--has to +see about having them scraped down and repainted. Maybe someday I'll +find a paint the lichens don't like the taste of." + +"Going to explore with Ringg?" Rugel asked, and Ringg, always ready to +let bygones be bygones, grinned and said, "Sure!" Bart could not face +him. + +Vorongil stopped and said, "This your first time here, young Bartol? How +would you like to visit the monument with me? You can see the machinery +on the way back." + +Relieved at not having to go with Ringg, he followed the captain, +falling into step beside him. They moved in silence, along the smooth +stone path. + +"The crystal creatures made this road," Vorongil said at last. "I think +they read minds a little. There used to be a very messy, rocky desert +here, and we used to have to scrabble and scratch our way to the +monument. Then one day a ship--not mine--touched down and discovered +that there was a beautiful smooth road leading up to the monument. And +the lichens never touch that stone--but you probably had all this in +school. Excited, Bartol?" + +"No--no, sir. Why?" + +"Eyes look a bit odd. But who could blame you for being excited? I never +come here without remembering Rhazon and his crew on that long jump. The +longest any Lhari captain ever made. A blind leap in the dark, remember, +Bartol. Through the dark, through the void, with his own crew cursing +him for taking the chance! No one had ever crossed between galaxies--and +remember, they were using the Ancient Math!" + +He paused, and Bart said through a catch of breath. "Quite an +achievement." His badge still looked reassuringly yellow. + +"You young people have no sense of wonder," Vorongil said. "Not that I +blame you. You can't realize what it was like in those days. Oh, we'd +had star-travel for centuries, we were beginning to stagnate. And now +look at us! Oh, they derided Rhazon--said that even if he did find +anyone, any other race, they'd be monsters with whom we could never +communicate. But here we have a whole new galaxy for peaceful trade, a +new mathematics that takes all the hazard out of space travel, our +Mentorian friends and allies." He smiled. "Don't tell the High Council +on me, but I think they deserve a lot more credit than most Lhari care +to give them. Between ourselves, I think the next Panarch may see it +that way." + +Vorongil paused. "Here's the monument." + +It lay between the crystal columns, tall, of pale blue sandstone, with +letters in deep shadow of such contrast that the Lhari could read them: +a high, sheer, imposing stele. Vorongil read the words slowly aloud in +the musical Lhari language: + +"'Here, with thanks to Those who Watch the Great Night, I, Rhazon of +Nedrun, raise a stone of memory. Here we first do touch the new worlds. +Let us never again fear to face the unknown, trusting that the Mind of +All Knowledge still has many surprises in store for all the living.' + +"I think I admire courage more than anything there is, Bartol. Who else +could have dared it? Doesn't it make you proud to be a Lhari?" + +Bart had felt profoundly moved; now he snapped back to awareness of who +he was and what he was doing. So only the Lhari had courage? _Life has +surprises, all right, Captain_, he thought grimly. + +He glanced down at the badge strip of plastic on his arm. It began to +tinge faint orange as he looked, and a chill of fear went over him. He +had to get away somehow--get to cover! + +He looked round and his fear was almost driven from his mind. "Captain, +the rocks! They're moving!" + +Vorongil said, unruffled, "Why, so they are. They do, you know; they +have intelligence of a sort. Though I've never actually _seen_ them move +before, I know they shift places overnight. I wonder what's going on?" +They were edging back, the path widening and changing. "Oh, well, maybe +they're going to do some more landscaping for us. I once knew a captain +who swore they could read his mind." + +Bart saw the slow, inexorable deepening of his badge--he _had_ to get +away. He tensed, impatient; gripped by fists of panic. Somewhere on this +world, Montano and his men were setting up their lethal radiations.... + +_Think of this: a Lhari ship of our own to study, to know how it works, +to see the catalyst and find out where it comes from, to read their +records and star routes. Now we know we can use it without dying in the +warp-drive...._ + +_Think of this: to be human again, yet to travel the stars with men of +my own race!_ + +_It's worth a few deaths!_ + +Even Vorongil? Standing here, talking to him, he might--_say it! You +talked to him as if he'd been your father! Oh, Dad, Dad, what would you +do?_ + +His voice was steady, as he said, "It's very good of you to show me all +this, sir, but the other men will call me a slacker. Hadn't I better get +to a work detail?" + +"Hm, maybe so, feathertop," Vorongil said. "Let me see--well, down this +way is the last row of bunkers. See the humps? You can check inside to +see if they're full or empty and save us the trouble of exploring if +they're all empty. Have a look round inside if you care to--the robot +machinery's interesting." + +Bart tensed; he had wondered how he'd get hidden inside, but he asked, +"Not locked?" + +"Locked?" The old Lhari's short, yellowed crest bobbed in surprise. +"Why? Who ever comes here but our ships? And what could we do with the +stuff but take it back with us? Why locked? You've been on the drift too +long--among those thieving humans! It's time you got back to live among +decent folk again. Well, go along." + +The sting of the words stiffened Bart as he took his leave. The color of +the badge seemed deeper orange.... + +_When it's red, you're dead._ + +_It's true. The Lhari don't steal. They don't even seem to understand +dishonesty._ + +_But they lied--lied to us all...._ + +_Knowing what we were like, maybe! That we'd steal their ships, their +secrets, their lives!_ + +The deepening color of the badge seemed the one visible thing in a +strange glaring world. He walked along the row of bunkers, realizing he +need not check if they were full or empty--the Lhari wouldn't live long +enough to harvest their better-than-graphite lubricant. They'd be dead. + +The last bunker was empty. He looked at his orange badge and stepped +inside, heart pounding so loudly he thought it was an external sound--it +_was_ an external sound, a step. + +"Don't move one inch," said a voice in Universal, and Bart froze, +trembling. He looked cautiously round. + +Montano stood there, spacesuited, his head bare, dark contact lenses +blurring his eyes. And in his hand a drawn blaster was held +level--trained straight at Bart's heart. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + + +After the first moment of panic, Bart realized Montano could not tell +him from a Lhari. He remained motionless. "It's me, Montano--Bart +Steele." + +The man lowered the weapon and put it away. "You nearly got yourself cut +down," he said. "Did you make it all right?" He crossed behind Bart, +inspecting the fastenings of the bunker. + +"It's just luck I didn't shoot you first and ask questions afterward." +Montano drew a deep breath and sat down on the concrete floor. "Anyway, +we're safe in here. We've got about half an hour before the radiation +will reach lethal intensity. It has a very short half-life, though; only +about twelve minutes. If we spend an hour in here, we'll be safe enough. +Did you have any trouble putting the radiation counter out of +commission?" + +So in half an hour they would all be dead. Ringg, Rugel, Captain +Vorongil. Two dozen Lhari, all dead so that Montano could have a Lhari +ship to play with. + +And what then? More killing, more murder? Would Montano start killing +everyone who tried to get the secret of the drive from him? The Lhari +had the star-drive; maybe it belonged to them, maybe not. Maybe humans +had a right to have it, too. But this wasn't the right way. Maybe they +didn't deserve it. + +He turned to look at Montano. The man was leaning back, whistling softly +through his teeth. He felt like telling Montano that he couldn't go +through with it. He started to speak, then stopped, his blood icing +over. + +_If I try to argue with him, I'll never get out of here alive. It means +too much to him._ + +_Do I just salve my conscience with that then? Sit here and let them +die?_ + +With a shock of remembrance, it came to Bart that he had a weapon. He +was armed, this time, with the energon-beam that was part of his +uniform. Montano had evidently forgotten it. _Could_ he kill Montano? +Even to save two dozen Lhari? + +He reached hesitantly toward the beam-gun, quickly thumbed the catch +down to the lowest point, which was simple shock. He froze as Montano +looked in his direction, hand out of sight under his cloak. + +"How many Lhari on board?" + +"Twenty-three, and three Mentorians." + +"Anyone apt to be behind shielding--say, in the drive chamber?" + +"No, I think they're all outside." + +Montano nodded, idly. "Then we won't have to worry." + +Bart slipped his hand toward his weapon. Montano saw the movement, +cocked his head in question; then, as understanding flashed over his +face, his hand darted to his own gun. But Bart had pressed the charge of +his, and Montano slumped over without a cry. He looked so limp that Bart +gasped. Was he dead? Hastily he fumbled the lax hand for a pulse. After +a long, endless moment he saw Montano's chest twitch and knew the man +was breathing. + +Well, Montano would be safe here in the bunker. Hastily, Bart looked at +his timepiece. Half an hour before the radiation was lethal--_for the +Lhari_. Was it already, for him? Shakily, he unfastened the door. He ran +out into the glare, seeing as he ran that his badge was tinged with an +ever-darkening, gold, orange.... + +Montano had said there was a safety margin, but maybe he was wrong, +maybe all Bart would accomplish would be his own death! He ran back +along the line of bunkers, his heart pounding with his racing feet. Two +crewmen came along the line, young white-crested Lhari from the other +watch. He gasped, "Where is the captain?" + +"Down that way--what's wrong, Bartol?" But Bart was gone, his muscles +aching with the unaccustomed effort inside gravity. Putting on speed, he +saw the tall, austere shape of Vorongil, his banded cloak dark against +the glaring light. Vorongil turned, startled, at the sound of his +running feet. + +Suddenly, Bart realized that he was still holding his energon-ray. In +shock and revulsion, he dropped it at Vorongil's feet. + +"Captain, go warn the men! They'll all be dead in half an hour! There +are lethal radiations--" + +"_What?_ Are you sunstruck?" + +Bart stopped cold. Never once had it crossed his mind what he would say +to Vorongil or how he would make the captain believe his story, without +revealing Montano. He started to hold up his badge, realized the Lhari +captain could not see color, and dropped it again, while Vorongil bent +over to pick up the fallen gun. "Are you sunstruck or mad, Bartol? +What's this babble?" + +"Captain, everybody on the _Swiftwing_--" + +"And speak Lhari!" Vorongil demanded, and Bart realized that in his +excitement he had been shouting in Universal. He drew a long, deep +breath. + +"Captain, there are lethal radiations being released here," he said. +"You have just barely half an hour to gather all the men and get them +behind shielding." + +"The radiation counter is out of order," Vorongil remarked, unruffled. +"How can you possibly know--" + +Bart stood in despair. Could he say, _A ship has landed here?_ Could he +say, _Check that bunker?_ Even if Montano was a would-be murderer, he +was human, and Bart could not betray him to the Lhari. There had been +too much betrayal. His voice rose in sudden hysteria. + +"Captain, there's no time! I tell you, you'll all be dead if you don't +believe me! Get the men into the ship! Get them behind shielding and +_then_ check my story! I'm not--" he had gone this far, he might as well +go the whole way--"_I'm not a Lhari!_" + +_"What?"_ + +One of the crewmen came dashing up, his crest sweat-streaked. "Captain! +Rugel has collapsed! We don't know what's wrong with him." + +"Radiation sickness," said Bart, and Vorongil reached out, catching his +shoulder in a cruel taloned grip. Bart said desperately "I'm not a +Lhari! I signed on in disguise--I knew they meant to take the ship, but +I can't let you all die. + +"How can I make you believe me? Here--" In desperation, Bart reached up. +Pain stabbed his eyeballs, fierce, blinding, as he pulled out one of the +contact lenses. He could not see the captain's face through the light, +but suddenly two Lhari were holding his arms. The fear of death was on +Bart, but it no longer mattered. He saw through watering eyes the +ever-deepening orange of the badge disappearing. + +"Here," he said, tearing at it, "radiation. You must be able to see how +dark it is. Even if it's just darkness...." + +Suddenly Vorongil was shouting, but Bart could not hear. Two men were +dragging him along. They hustled him up the ramp of the ship. He could +see again, but his eyes were blurred, and he felt sick, colors spinning +before his eyes, a nauseated ringing in his head. + +At first he thought it was his ears ringing; then he made out the +rising, shrieking wail and fall of the emergency siren, steps running, +shouting voices, the slow clang of the doors. Someone was pushing at +him, babbling words in Lhari, but he heard them through an +ever-increasing distance: Vorongil's face bent over his, only a blurred +crimson blob that flashed away like a vanishing star in the viewport. It +flamed out into green darkness, vanished, and Bart fell through what +seemed to be a bottomless chasm of starless night. + + * * * * * + +When he woke, acceleration had its crushing hand on his chest. He tried +to move, discovered that he was strapped hard into a bunk, and fainted +again. + +Suddenly the pressure was gone and he was lying at ease on the smooth +sheets of a hospital bunk. His eyes were covered with a light bandage, +and there was a sharp pain in his left arm. He tried to move it and +found it was tied down. + +"I think he's coming round," said Vorongil's voice. + +"Yes, and a lot too soon for me," said a bitter voice which Bart +recognized as that of the ship's medic. "Freak!" + +"Listen, Baldy," said Vorongil, "whoever he is, he could have been +blinded or killed. You wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for that +_freak_, as you call him. Bartol, can you hear me? How much light can +your eyes stand?" + +"As much as any Mentorian." Bart found he could move his right arm, and +twitched the bandage away. Vorongil and the medic stood over him; in the +other infirmary bunk a form was lying, covered with a white sheet. +Sickly, Bart wondered if they had found Montano. Vorongil followed the +direction of his eyes. + +"Yes," he said, and his voice held deep bitterness, "poor old Rugel is +dead. He didn't get much of the radiation, but his heart wouldn't stand +it, and gave out." He bowed his head. "He was bald in the service of the +ships when my crest was new-sprouted," he said in deep grief. + +Bart felt the shock of that, even through his own fear. He looked down +at his left arm. It was strapped to a splint, and fluid was dripping +slowly into the vein there. + +Vorongil nodded. "I expect you feel pretty sick. You got a good dose of +radiation yourself, but we've given you a couple of transfusions--one of +the Mentorians matched your blood type, fortunately. It was a close +call." + +The medic was looking down in ill-disguised curiosity. "Fantastic," he +said. "I don't suppose you'd tell me who changed your looks. I admit I +wouldn't believe it until I had a look at your foot bones under the +fluoroscope." + +Vorongil said quietly, "Bartol--I don't suppose that's your real +name--why did you do it?" + +"I couldn't see you all die, sir," Bart said, not expecting them to +believe him. "No more than that." + +The medic said roughly in Lhari, "It's a trick, sir, no more. A trick to +make us trust him!" + +"Why would he risk his own life then?" Vorongil asked. "No, it's more +than that." He hesitated. "We checked the bunkers--in radiation +suits--before we took off. We found a man in one of them." + +"Was he dead?" Bart whispered. + +"No," Vorongil said quietly. + +"Thank God!" It was a heartfelt explosion. Then, apprehensively, "Or did +you kill him?" + +"What do you think we are?" Vorongil said incredulously. "Indeed no. His +own men have probably found him by now. I don't imagine he got half as +much radiation as you did." + +Bart surveyed the needle in his arm. "Why are you taking all this +trouble if I'm going to be put out of the way?" + +"You must have some funny ideas about us," Vorongil said shaking his +head. "That would be a fine way to reward you for saving all of our +lives. No, you're not going to be killed." + +"If I had my way--" the old medic began, and suddenly Vorongil flew into +a rage. "Get out!" + +The medic went stiffly through the door, and Vorongil stood gazing down +at Bart, shaking his yellowed crest. "I don't know what to say to you. +It was a brave thing you did, but perhaps no braver than you've done all +along. Are you a Mentorian?" + +"Only half." + +"Strange," Vorongil said, looking into space, "that I could talk to you +as I did by the monument, and you knew what I meant. But, yes, you would +understand." Abruptly, he recalled himself, and his voice was thin and +cold. + +"I haven't quite decided what to do. I haven't spoken of this to the +crew yet; the fewer who know about this, the better. I told them you got +a heavy dose of radiation, and you're too sick to see visitors." He +sounded kinder when he said, "It's true, you know. It won't hurt you to +get your strength back." + +He went out, and Bart wondered, _Get my strength back for what?_ He lay +back, feeling weaker than he realized. It was a relief to know he wasn't +going to be killed out of hand. And somehow he didn't believe he was +going to be killed at all. + +It wasn't like being a prisoner. The medic brought him plenty of food, +urging him to eat--"You need plenty of protein after radiation +burns"--and if he stayed in the bunk, it was only because he felt too +weak to get up. Actually he was suffering from delayed emotional shock, +as well as from radiation. He was content to let things drift. + +Inevitably, the time came when he had to think about what he had done. +He had betrayed Montano, he had been false to the men who sent him. + +"But they don't know the Lhari," his conscience replied, justifying what +he had done. + +_You sided with the Lhari against your own people. You spoilt our +chances of learning about the Lhari fuel catalyst._ + +"I've done something better than stealing a secret by stealth. I've +proved that humans and Lhari can communicate, that they can trust each +other. It's only their looks that are strange. A kind, generous man is a +kind generous man, whether his name is Raynor Three or Vorongil." + +_But who's going to know it?_ + +"I know it. And truth comes out, sooner or later. Somehow, a better +understanding between man and Lhari will come from this." + +Secure in the knowledge, he turned over and went peacefully to sleep. + +When he woke again, he felt better. The Mentorian girl, Meta, was +sitting quietly between the bunks, watching him. He started to turn +over, flinched at the pain in his arm. + +"Yes," she said, "we're giving you one last transfusion. Plasma, this +time. It's Lhari, but if you know that much, you know it won't hurt +you." She came and inspected the needle in his wrist, and Bart caught +her hand with his free one. "Meta, does anyone else know?" + +She looked down with a troubled smile. "I don't think so. I was off +watch, waiting for cold-sleep--we're just about to make the long +jump--when Vorongil came to my quarters. I was startled almost out of my +wits. He asked if I could keep a secret; then he told me about you. Oh, +Bart!" Her small soft hand closed convulsively on his, "I was so afraid! +I knew they wouldn't kill you, but I was afraid!" + +_Yet they had killed David Briscoe_, Bart thought, and hunted down two +of his friends. It was the only thing he couldn't square with his +perception of the Lhari. It didn't fit. He could understand that they +had shot down the robotcab with Edmund Briscoe in it, in pure +self-defense; and that knowledge had taken off the edge of the horror. +But the death of young Briscoe and everyone he had talked to could not +be explained away. + +"You seem very sure they wouldn't have killed me, Meta," he said, +carefully clasping his hand around hers. + +"They wouldn't," she affirmed. "But they could--make you forget--" + +A small chill went over Bart. He let go of her hand and lay staring +bleakly at the wall. He supposed that was his probable fate: remembering +the tragic tone of Raynor Three when he said _I won't remember you_, he +gritted his teeth, feeling his face twist convulsively. Meta, watching, +misunderstood. + +"Arm hurting? I'll have that needle out of your vein in a few minutes +now." + +When she had freed his arm and put away the apparatus, she came to his +side. "Bart, how did it happen? How did they find you out?" + +Suddenly, the longing for human contact was too much for Bart, and the +knowledge of his secret intolerable. The Lhari could find out what he +knew, if they wanted to know, very simply; he was in their power. It +didn't matter any more. + +The telling of the story took a long time, and when he finished, Meta's +soft small kitten-face was compassionate. + +"I'm glad you--decided what you did," she whispered. "It's what a +Mentorian would have done. I know that other races call us _slaves of +the Lhari_. We aren't. We're working in our own way to show the Lhari +that human beings can be trusted. The other peoples--they hold away from +the Lhari, fighting them with words even though they're afraid to fight +them with weapons, carrying on the war that they're afraid to fight! + +"Did it ever occur to you--all the peoples of all the planets keep +saying, _We're as good as the Lhari_, but only the Mentorians are +willing to prove it? Bart, a Lhari ship can't get along in our galaxy +without Mentorians any more! It may be slower than trying to take the +warp-drive by force, or stealing it by spying, but when we learn to +endure it, I have faith that we'll get it!" + +Bart, although moved by Meta's philosophy, couldn't quite share it. It +still seemed to him that the Mentorians were lacking in +something--independence, maybe, or drive. + +"I wasn't thinking about anything like that," he said honestly. "It was +simply that I couldn't let them die. After all--" he was speaking more +to himself than to the girl--"it's _their_ star-drive. _They_ found it. +And they've given us star-trade, and star-travel, cheaply and with +profit to both sides. I hope we'll get the star-drive someday. But if we +got it by mass murder, it would sow the seeds of a hatred between men +and Lhari that would never end. It wouldn't be worth it, Meta. Nothing +would be worth that. We've got enough hate already." + + * * * * * + +Bart was still in his bunk, but beginning to fret at staying there, when +the familiar trembling of Acceleration Two started to run through the +ship. It was, by now, so familiar to him that he hardly gave it a second +thought, but Meta panicked. + +"What's happening? Bart, what is it? Why are we under acceleration +again?" + +"Shift to warp," he said without thinking, and her face went deathly +white. "So that's it," she whispered. "Vorongil--no wonder he wasn't +worried about what I would find out from you or what you knew." She drew +herself together in her chair, a miserable, shrunken, terrified little +figure, bravely trying to control her terror. + +Then she held out her hands to Bart. "I'm--I'm ashamed," she whispered. +"When you've been so brave, I shouldn't be afraid to die." + +"Meta, what's the matter? What are you afraid of?" It suddenly swept +over Bart what she meant and what she feared. "But don't you understand, +Meta?" he exclaimed, "Humans _can_ live through the warp-drive! No +drugs, no cold-sleep--Meta, I've done it dozens of times!" + +_"But you're a Lhari!"_ It burst from her, uncontrollable. She stopped, +looked at him in consternation. He smiled, bitterly. + +"No, Meta, they didn't do a thing to my internal organs, to my brain, to +the tissues of my body. Just a little plastic surgery on my hands, my +feet and my face. Meta, there's nothing to be afraid of--nothing," he +repeated. + +She twisted her small hands together. "I'm--trying to--to believe that," +she whispered, "but all my life I've known--" + +The screaming whine in the ship gripped them with the strange, clawing +lassitude and discomfort. Bart, gasping under it, heard the girl moan, +saw her slump lax in her chair, half fainting. Her face was so deathly +white that he began seriously to be afraid she would die of her fear. +Fighting his own agonizing weakness, he pulled himself upright. He +reached the girl, dug his claws cruelly into her. + +"Girl, get hold of yourself! Fight it! _Fight_ it! The more scared you +are, the worse it's going to be!" + +She was rigid, trembling, in a trance of terror. + +"You rotten little coward," he yelled at her, "snap out of it! Or are +all you Mentorians so gutless that you believe any half-baked folk tale +the Lhari pass off on you? You and your fine talk about earning the +star-drive! What would you do with it after you got it--if you die of +fear when you try?" + +"Oh! You--!" She flung her head back, her eyes blazing with rage. +"Anything you can do, I can do, too!" He saw life flowing back into her +face, and the trembling now was with fury, not fear; she was fighting +the pain, the crawling itch in her nerve ends, the terrible sense of +draining disorganization. + +Bart felt his hold on himself breaking. He whispered hoarsely, "That's +the girl--don't be scared if I--black out for a minute." He held on to +consciousness with his last courage, afraid if he fainted, the girl +would collapse again. + +She reached for him, and Bart, starved for some human touch, drew her +into his arms. They clung together, and he felt her wet face against his +own, the softness of her trembling hands. She was still crying a little. +Then the blackness closed on him, as if endless, and the gray blur of +warp-drive peak blotted his brain into nothingness. + +He came out of it to feel her cheek soft against his, her head +trustfully on his shoulder. He said huskily, "All right, Meta?" + +"I'm fine," she murmured, shakily. He tightened his hands a little, +realizing that for the first time in months he had physically forgotten +his Lhari disguise, that Meta had given him this priceless reassurance +that he was human. But, as if suddenly aware of it again, she looked up +at him and drew hesitantly away. + +"Don't--Meta, am I so horrible to you then? So--repulsive?" + +"No, it's only--" she bit her lip--"it's just that the Lhari are--I +can't quite explain it." + +"Different," Bart finished for her. "At first I was repelled--physically +repelled by myself, and by them. It was like living among weird animals, +and being one of the animals. And then, one day, Ringg was just another +kid. He had gray skin and long claws and white hair, just the way I once +had pinkish skin and short fingernails and reddish hair, but the +difference wasn't that I was human inside and he wasn't. If you skinned +Ringg, and skinned me, we'd be almost identical. And all of a sudden +then, Ringg and Vorongil and all the rest were men to me. Just people. I +thought you Mentorians, after living with the Lhari all these years, +would feel that." + +She said in slow wonder, "We've lived and worked side by side with them +all these years, yet kept so apart! I've defended the Lhari to you, yet +it took you to explain them to me!" + +His arm was still round her, her head still lying on his shoulder. Bart +was just beginning to wonder if he might kiss her when the infirmary +door opened and Ringg stood in the doorway, staring at them with +surprise, shock and revulsion. Bart realized, suddenly, how it must look +to Ringg--who certainly shared Meta's prejudice--but even as he +comprehended it, Ringg's face altered. Meta slipped from Bart's arms and +rose, but Ringg came slowly a step into the room. + +"I--remembered you had a bad reaction, to warp-drive," he said. "I came +to see if you were all right. I would never have believed--but I'm +beginning to guess. There was always something about you, Bartol." He +shut the door behind him and stood against it. His voice lowered almost +to a whisper, he said, "You're not Lhari, are you?" + +"Vorongil knows," Bart said. + +Ringg nodded. "That day on Lharillis. The crew was talking, but only one +or two of them really _know_ what happened. There are a dozen rumors. I +wanted to see you. They said you were sick with radiation burns--" + +"I was." + +Ringg raised his hand, absently, to the still-puckered mark on his +cheek, saw Bart watching him and smiled. + +"You're not worrying about that fight? Forget it, friend. If anything, I +admire someone who can use his claws--especially if, as I begin to +suspect, they're not his." He leaned over, his hand lightly on Bart's +shoulder. "I don't forget so easily. You saved my life, remember? And +you're a hero on the ship for warning us all. Are you really human? Why +not get rid of the disguise?" + +Bart laughed wryly. "It won't come off," he said, and explained. + +Ringg raised his hands to his own face curiously. "I wonder what sort of +human I'd make?" He looked at Meta's small fingers. "Not that I'd ever +have the nerve. But then, it's no surprise to anyone that you have +courage, Bartol." + +"You seem to accept it--" + +"It's a shock," said Ringg honestly, "it scares me a little. But I'm +remembering the friendship. That was real. As far as I'm concerned, it +still is real." + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + + +Ringg was still bending over Meta's hand when Vorongil came into the +cabin. He started to speak, then noticed Ringg. "I might have known," he +growled, "if there was anything to find out, you'd find it." + +"Shall I go, _rieko mori_?" + +"No, stay. You'll find it out some way or other, you might as well get +it right the first time. But first of all--are you all right, Meta?" + +Her chin went up, defiantly. "Yes. And why have you lied to us all these +years--all of you?" + +Vorongil looked mildly startled. "It wasn't exactly a lie. Nine out of +ten Lhari captains believe it with all their heart--that humans die in +warp-drive. I wasn't sure myself until I heard the debates in Council +City, last year." + +"But why?" + +Vorongil sighed. His eyes rested disconcertingly on Bart. "I presume you +know human history," he said, "better than I do. The Lhari have never +had a war, in all written history. Quite frankly, you terrified us. It +was decided, on the highest summit levels, that we wouldn't give humans +too many chances to find out things we preferred to keep to ourselves. +The first few ships to carry Mentorians had carried them without +cold-sleep, but people forget easily. The truth is buried in the records +of those early voyages. + +"As the Mentorians grew more important to us, we began to regret the +policy, but by that time the Mentorians themselves believed it so firmly +that when we tried the experiment of carrying them through the shift +into warp-drive, they died of fear--pure suggestion. I tried it with +you, Meta, because I knew Bart's presence would reassure you. The others +were given an inert sedative they believed to be the cold-sleep drug. +How are you feeling, Bart?" + +"Fine--but wondering what's going to happen." + +"You won't be hurt," Vorongil said, quickly. Then: "You don't believe +me, do you?" + +"I don't, sir. David Briscoe did what I did, and he's dead. So are three +other men." + +"Men do strange things from fear--men and Lhari. Your people, as I said +before, have a strange history. It scares us. Can you guarantee that +some, at least, of your people wouldn't try to come and take the +star-drive by force? We left a man on Lharillis who thought nothing of +killing twenty-four of us. I suppose the captain of the _Multiphase_, +knowing he had gravely violated Lhari laws, knowing that Briscoe's +report might touch off an intergalactic war between men and Lhari--well, +I suppose he felt that half a dozen deaths were better than half a +million. I'm not defending him. Just explaining, maybe, why he did what +he did." + +Bart lowered his eyes. He had no answer to that. + +"No, you won't be killed. But that's all I can guarantee. My personal +feelings have nothing to do with it. You'll have to go to Council Planet +with us, and you'll have to be psych-checked there. That is Lhari +law--and by treaty with your Federation, it is human law, too. If you +know anything dangerous to us, we have a legal right to eliminate those +memories before you can be released." + +Meta smiled at him, encouragingly, but Bart shivered. That was almost +worse than the thought of death. + +And the fear grew more oppressive as the ship forged onward toward the +home world of the Lhari. And it did not lessen when, after they touched +down, he was taken from the ship under guard. + +He had only a glimpse, through dark glasses, of the terrible brilliance +of the Lhari sun dazzling on crystal towers, before he was hustled into +a closed surface car. It whisked him away to a building he did not see +from the outside; he was taken up by private elevator to a suite of +rooms which might--for all he could tell--have been a suite in a luxury +hotel or a lunatic asylum. The walls were translucent, the furniture +oddly colored, and so carefully padded that even a homicidal or suicidal +person could not have hurt himself or anyone else on it or with it. + +Food reached him often enough so that he never got hungry, but not often +enough to keep him from being bored between meals, or from brooding. Two +enormous Lhari came in to look at him every hour or so, but either they +were deaf and dumb, did not understand his dialect of Lhari, or were +under orders not to speak to him. It was the most frustrating time of +his entire voyage. + +One day it ended. A Lhari and a Mentorian came for him and took him down +elevators and up stairs, and into a quiet, neutral room where four Lhari +were gathered. They sat him in a comfortable chair, and the Mentorian +interpreter said gently, with apology: + +"Bart Steele, I have been asked to say to you that you will not be +physically harmed in any way. This will be much simpler, and will have +much less injurious effect on your mind if you cooperate with us. At the +same time, I have been asked to remind you that resistance is absolutely +useless, and if you attempt it, you will only be treated with force +rather than with courtesy." + +Bart sat facing them, shaking with humiliation. The thought of +resistance flashed through his mind. Maybe he should make them fight for +what they got! At least they'd see that all humans weren't like the +Mentorians, to sit quietly and let themselves be brainwashed without a +word of protest. + +He started to spring up, and the hands of his guards tightened, swift +and strong, even before his muscles had fully tightened. Bart's head +dropped. Cold common sense doused over his brave thoughts. He was +uncountable millions of light-years from his own people. He was +absolutely alone. Bravery would mean nothing; submission would mean +nothing. Would he be more of a man, somehow, if he let his mind be +wrecked? + +"All right," he muttered, "I won't fight." + +"You show your good sense," the Mentorian said quietly. "Give me your +left arm, please--or, if you are left-handed, your right. As you +prefer." + +Deftly, almost painlessly, a needle slid into his arm. _Giving in._ A +dizzying welter of thoughts spun suddenly in his mind. Briscoe. Raynor +One and Raynor Three. The net between the stars. Ringg, Vorongil, Meta, +his father.... + +Consciousness slid away. + +Years later--he never knew whether it was memory or imagination--it +seemed to him that he could reach into that patch of gray and dreamless +time and fish out questions and answers whole, the faces of Lhari +swelling up suddenly in his eyes and shrinking back into interstellar +distance, the sting-smell of drugs, the sound of unexpected voices, odd +reflex pains, cobwebs of patchy memories that fitted nowhere else into +his life so that he supposed they must go here. + +He only knew that there was a time he did not remember and then a time +when he began to think there was such a thing as memory, and then a time +when he floated without a body, and then another time when the path of +every separate nerve in his body seemed to be outlined, a shimmering web +in the gray murk. There was a mirror and a face. There were blotchy +worms of light like the star-trails of peaking warp-drive through the +viewport, colors shifting and receding, a green star, the red eye of +Antares. + +Then the peak-point faded, his mind began to decelerate and angle slowly +down and down into the field of awareness, and he became fuzzily aware +that he was lying full length on a sort of couch. He shook his head +groggily. It hurt. He sat up. That hurt, too. A hand closed gently +around his elbow and he felt the cold edge of a cup against his sore +mouth. + +"Take a sip of this." + +The liquid felt cool on his tongue, evaporating almost before he could +swallow; the fumes seemed to mount inside the root of his nose, +expanding tremendously inside his head and brain. Abruptly his head was +clear, the last traces of gray fuzz gone. + +"When you feel able," the Mentorian said courteously, "the High Council +will see you." + +Bart blinked. As if exploring a sore tooth with his tongue, his mind +sought for memories, but they all seemed clear, marshaled in line. The +details, clear and unblurred, of his voyage here. His humiliation and +resentment against the Lhari. _They could have changed my thinking, my +attitudes. They could have made me admire or be loyal to the Lhari. They +didn't. I'm still me._ + +"I'm ready now." He got up, reeled and had to lean on the Mentorian; his +feet did not seem to touch the ground in quite the right way. After a +minute he could walk steadily, and followed the Mentorian along a +corridor. The Mentorian said into a small grille, "The Vegan Bartol, +alias Bart Steele," and after a moment a doorway opened. + +Inside a room rose, high, domed, vaulted above his head, whitish +opalescent, washed with green. For a moment, while his eyes adjusted to +the light, he wondered how the Lhari saw it. + +Beyond an expanse of black, glassy floor, he saw a low semicircular +table, behind which sat eight Lhari. All wore pale robes with high +collars that rose stiffly behind their domed heads; all were old, their +faces lined with many wrinkles, and seven of the eight were as bald as +the hull of the _Swiftwing_. Under their eyes he hesitated; then, +unexpectedly, pride stiffened his back. + +They should have done a better job of brainwashing, if they expected him +to skulk in like a scared rabbit! He held his head high and moved across +the floor step by steady step, trying not to limp or display that he +felt tired or sore. + +_You're human! Act proud of it!_ + +No one moved until he stood before the semicircle of ancients. Then the +youngest, the only one of the eight with some trace of feathery crest on +his high gray head, said "Captain Vorongil, you identify this person?" + +"I do," Vorongil said, and Bart saw him seated before the high Council. +To Bart, the Lhari captain seemed a familiar, almost a friendly face. + +"Well, Bart Steele, alias Bartol son of Berihun," said one old Lhari, +"what have you to say for yourself?" + +Bart stood silent, not moving. What could he say that would not reveal +how desperately alone, how young and foolish and frightened he felt? All +his brave resolutions seemed to drain away before their old, gnomish +faces. Here he'd been thinking of himself as a brave spy, a gallant +fighter in humanity's cause and what not. Now he saw himself for what he +was; a reckless boy, meddling in affairs too big for him. He lowered his +eyes. + +"We have read the transcript of your knowledge," said the old Lhari. +"There is little in it that we do not know. We are not, of course, +concerned with human conspiracies unless they endanger Lhari lives. The +Antares authorities will deal with the man Montano for an unauthorized +landing on Lharillis, in violation of Federation treaty." + +He smiled, his gnome's face breaking into a million tiny cracks like a +piece of gray-glazed pottery. "Bartol, or whatever you call yourself, +you are a brave young man. I suppose you are afraid we will block your +memories, or your ability to speak of them?" + +Bart nodded, gulping. Did the old Lhari read his mind? + +"A year ago we might have done so. Captain Vorongil, you will be +interested to know that we have discussed this in Council, and your +recommendations have been taken. The secret that humans can endure +star-drive has outlived its usefulness. For good or ill, it is secret no +longer. We cannot possibly eliminate all the old records, or the +enterprising people who hunt them out. + +"The captain who had David Briscoe killed, under the mistaken notion +that this would excuse his own negligence in letting Briscoe stow away +on his ship, is undergoing psychotherapy and may eventually recover. + +"As for the rest--Bart Steele, you know nothing that is a danger to us. +You do not know the coordinates of our world, or even in which galaxy it +is located. You do not know where we secure the catalyst your people +seek. In fact, you know nothing that is not soon to become common +knowledge. In view of that, we have decided not to interfere with your +memories." + +"Talk as much as you like," added another of the ancients, "and may your +memories of this voyage help in understanding between the Lhari and +other human races. Good fortune to you." And he was smiling. + +"There is another side to this," said a third, more sternly and gravely. +"You have broken a treaty between Lhari and man. We have dealt with you +as the laws required; now your own people must do so. You must return +with the _Swiftwing_ to the planet where the violation originated--" he +consulted a memorandum--"Procyon Alpha. There you and the man Raynor +Three will face charges of unlawful conspiracy to board a Lhari ship, in +violation of Intergalactic Trade treaties. Captain Vorongil, will you be +responsible for him?" + +_So I've lost_, Bart thought drearily. _I didn't even learn anything +important enough for them to suppress._ There was a strange wounded +pride in this; after all his trouble, he was being treated like a little +boy who has used a great deal of enterprise and intelligence to rob a +cookie cupboard, and for his pains is sent home with the stolen cookie +in his hand. + +Vorongil touched his arm. "Come, Bartol," he said gently, "I'm taking +you back to the _Swiftwing_. I don't have to treat you like a prisoner, +do I?" + +Numbly, Bart gave what the old Lhari asked, his word of honor not to +attempt escape (_Escape? Where to?_) or to attempt to enter the drive +chamber of the _Swiftwing_ while they were still among the Lhari worlds. + +As they left the council hall, Bart, in a gesture of despair, covered +his face with his hands. As he brought them down, he found himself +staring at them, transfixed. + +The fingers looked longer and thinner than he remembered them, but they +were his own hands again. The nails seemed faintly thick and ridged, and +there was still a faint grayish tinge through the pale flesh color, but +they were human hands. Unmistakably. He felt of his nose and ears, with +fumbling fingers; raised his hand and touched the very short, crisp hair +growing on his newly shaven skull. + +"You fool," said Vorongil to the Mentorian, in disgust, "why didn't you +tell him what the medics had done for him? Easy, Bartol!" The old +Lhari's arm tightened around his shoulder. "I thought they'd told you. +Somebody come here and give the youngster a hand." + +Later, in the small cabin (it had been Rugel's) which was to be his +prison during the return voyage of the _Swiftwing_, he had a chance to +study his familiar-strange face. He had thought that only a short +time--an hour or so--had elapsed between the time he was drugged and the +time they took him before the Council. Later, from what he learned about +the dispatch schedules of the _Swiftwing_, he realized that he had been +kept under sedation for nearly three weeks, while his face and hands +healed. + +As Raynor Three had warned, the change was not altogether reversible. +Studying his face in the mirror, he could still see a hint of something +thin, strange, alien in the set of his features; the nose and chin +somewhat too pointed, elfin, to be human. His hands would always be too +long, too narrow, too supple. For the rest, he looked grim, older. He +could never go back to what he had been before he became a Lhari; it had +left its mark on him forever. + +Before the _Swiftwing_ lifted, outbound, Vorongil came to his cabin. +"You've seen very little of our world," he said diffidently. "I have +permission for you to visit the city before we leave Council Spaceport." + +"You think you can trust me?" Bart asked bitterly. + +Vorongil said gravely, without humor, "The question does not arise. You +do not know the coordinates of this world, and have no way of finding +them. Within those limitations, you are an honored guest here, and if it +would give you any pleasure, you are welcome to see as much of Council +Planet as time permits." + +It seemed, through Vorongil's kindness, that the old Lhari sensed his +bitter defeat. Nothing was to be gained by sulking in his cabin, a +prisoner. He had an opportunity which no human, except the Mentorians, +had ever had; which perhaps no human would ever have again. He might as +well take advantage of it. + +Ringg and Meta both seemed startled at his new appearance, but Meta +instantly held out her hands, clasping his quickly and warmly. "Bart! I +wondered what your real face looked like. But I think I'd have known you +anyhow." + +Ringg surveyed him wonderingly, shaking his head. "Say something," he +implored, "so I'll know you're Bartol." + +Bart held out his arm, less gray by the day as the drug wore out of his +system. The thin line of the scar was still on it. He raised his +forefinger lightly to the fine line on Ringg's cheek. "I couldn't return +that now. So let's not get into any more fights." + +Ringg laughed and gave him a rough, affectionate shove. "You're Bartol, +all right!" + +Even his sense of defeat vanished in wonder as they came out into the +great spaceport. He saw, now, that the Lhari spaceports in human worlds +were built to create, for the spacemen so far from their native worlds, +some feeling of home. But everything here was so vast as to stagger the +imagination. There were miles and miles of the great ships, lying strewn +like pebbles on this monster beachhead into space, bearing the +strangeness of a million far-flung stars. He gaped like a child. + +Above them, the burning brilliance of a star gave strange glow and color +to the crystal pylons. What color was the star? He turned to Meta, +irritated at his inability to be sure. + +"Meta, what color is this sun? I've been all around the spectrum, and +it's not red, blue, green, orange, violet--" He broke off, realizing +what he had said and what he had seen. "An eighth color," he finished, +anticlimatically. + +"You and your talk of colors," Ringg grumbled, "I wish I knew what you +Mentorians see! It's like trying to imagine seeing a smell or hearing +light!" + +Meta laughed. "As far as I know, no one's named it. Sometimes we +Mentorians call it _catalyst color_. I think only Mentorians can see it +as separate color." + +"So what?" Ringg said impatiently, "What are we going to do, chatter +about light waves or see the city?" + +Bart acquiesced, trying to sound eager, but a wild excitement was +gusting up in him. He dutifully pretended fascination with the towers, +the many-leveled roads, the giant dams and pylons, but his thoughts were +racing. + +_The eighth color!_ There can't be too many suns of this color, or +they'd have named it and known it! And telescopes can find it. + +Could success be salvaged, then, at the very edge of failure? Maybe he +need not go empty-handed, empty-eyed, from the Lhari worlds! They had +dismissed him, scornfully, stolen cookie in hand--but maybe it would be +a bigger cookie than they dreamed! + +The exhilaration lasted through the tour of the port, through the heavy +surge of acceleration which brought them up, out and way from Council +Planet. Bart, confined in Rugel's cabin, hardly felt like a prisoner, +his mind busy with schemes. + +_I'll study star-maps, and spectroscope reports...._ + +It lasted almost two days of shiptime, and they were readying for +Acceleration Two, before he came, figuratively, down to earth. To pick +one star out of trillions--and not even in his own galaxy? It would take +a lifetime and he didn't even know which of the four or five spiral +nebulae in the skies of the human worlds was the Lhari Galaxy. A +lifetime? A hundred lifetimes wouldn't do it! + +He might have known. If there had been one chance in the odd billion of +his making any such discovery, the Lhari would never have given Vorongil +permission for the intruder to visit the planet at all. He would have +been returned to the _Swiftwing_ as he had been taken from it, by closed +car, and imprisoned, maybe even drugged, until he was safely back in the +human worlds again. + +He was under parole not to enter the drive chamber (and sure he would be +stopped if he attempted it anyhow), but when Acceleration One was +completed, he went to the viewport in the Recreation Lounge, and nobody +threw him out. He stood long, looking at the unfamiliar galaxy of the +Lhari stars; the unknown, forever unknowable constellations with their +strange shapes. Stars green, gold, topaz, burning blue, sullen red, and +the great strangely colored receding sun of the Lhari people, known to +them by the melodious name of the Ke Lhiro--which meant, simply, _The +Sun_: it was their first home. + +Where had he seen that color? In that stolen glimpse of the Lhari ship +landing, long ago? Of all the colors of space, this one he would never +know. + +He turned away from the unsolvable riddle of the strange constellations; +and went to his cabin, to dream of the green star Meristem where he had +first plotted known coordinates for a previously unknown world, and to +wander in baffling nightmares where he fed jagged, star-colored pieces +of hail into the ship's computer and watched them come out as tiny +paperdoll spaceships with the letterhead of Eight Colors printed neatly +across their sides. + +After the warp-drive shift, Vorongil came to his cabin, this time crisp +and businesslike. + +"We're back in your galaxy," he said, "among the stars you know. We have +no passenger space on the _Swiftwing_; we had to ship out without +replacing Rugel, which means we're short two men. I've no authority to +ask this of you, but--would you like your old job back for the rest of +the voyage?" + +Bart glanced at his human hands. + +Vorongil shrugged. "We've carried Mentorians as full-ranking +Astrogators. There don't happen to be any on the _Swiftwing_. But +there's no law about it." + +Bart looked the old Lhari in the eye. "I won't accept Mentorian terms, +Vorongil." + +"I wouldn't ask it. You worked your way outward on this run, and the +High Council didn't see fit to erase those memories or inhibit them. Why +should I? Do you want it or not?" + +Did he want it? Until this moment Bart had not identified the worst of +his pain and defeat--to travel as a passenger, a supercargo, when he had +once been part of the _Swiftwing_. Literally he ached to be back with it +again. "I do, _rieko mori_." + +"Very well," Vorongil rapped, "see that you turn out next watch!" He +spun round and walked out. His tone was no longer gently indulgent, but +sharp and distant. Bart, at first surprised, suddenly understood. + +Not now a prisoner, a passenger, a guest on the _Swiftwing_. He was part +of the crew again--and Vorongil was his captain. + +The Lhari crew were oddly constrained at first. But Ringg was the same +as always, and before long they were almost on the old terms. With every +watch, it seemed, he was building a bridge between man and Lhari. They +accepted him. + +But for what? Something might come, in the far future, of his +acceptance, but he wouldn't get the benefit of it. This would be his +only voyage; after this he'd be chained again, crawling from planet to +planet of a single sun. And as warp-shift followed warp-shift, the +_Swiftwing_ retracing the path of her outward cruise star by star, Bart +said farewell to them. + +One day, at last, he stood at the viewport, watching Procyon Alpha +nearing. A year ago, frightened, terribly alone, still unsteady on his +new Lhari muscles and terrified by the monsters that were his shipmates, +he had watched these planets spinning away. Poor old Rugel, poor old +Baldy! + +Behind him, Meta came into the lounge. + +"Bart--" + +He turned to face her. "It won't be much longer, Meta. Tomorrow I'll +find out what the Federation is going to do to me. _Conspiracy +unlawfully to board_--and all the rest of it. Even if I don't go to a +prison planet, I'll spend the rest of my life chained down to Vega." + +"It doesn't have to be that way." + +"What other choice is there?" he demanded. + +"You're half Mentorian," she said, raising her eager face. "Oh, Bart, +you love it so, you know you can't bear to give it up. Stay with +us--please stay!" + +Before answering, he looked out the viewport a last time. The clouds of +cosmic dust swirled and foamed around the familiar jewels of his own +sky. Blue, beloved Vega, burning in the heart of the Lyre--_home--when +would he go home? He had no home now._ Yet his father had left him Vega +Interplanet, as well as Eight Colors and a quest to the stars. + +He searched for the topaz of Sol, where he had learned astrogation; +Procyon, where he had become a Lhari; the ruby of Aldebaran (_hail and +farewell, David Briscoe!_); the bloodstone of Antares, where he had +learned fear and the shape of integrity. The colors, the unknowable +colors of space. And others. Nameless stars where he and his Lhari +shipmates had worked and played. And stars he had never seen and would +never see, all the endless worlds beyond worlds and stars beyond +stars.... + +He took a last, longing look at the colors of space, then turned his +back on them, deliberately giving them up. He could not pay the price +the Mentorians paid. + +"No, Meta," he said huskily. "The Mentorian way is one way, but--I've +had a taste of being one of the masters of space. It's more than most +men ever have, maybe it's more than I deserve. But I can't settle for +anything less. Not even if it means losing you." + +He shut his eyes and stood, head bowed. When he looked up again, he was +alone with the stars beyond the viewport, and the lounge was empty. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + + +The low rainbow building of Eight Colors, near the spaceport of Procyon +Alpha, had not changed; and when Bart went in, as he had done a year +ago, it seemed that the same varnished girl was sitting before the same +glass desk, neon-edged and brittle, with the same chrome-tinged hair and +blue fingernails. She looked at Bart in his Lhari clothing, at Meta in +her Mentorian robe and cloak, at Ringg, and her unruffled dignity did +not turn a hair. + +"May I help you?" she inquired, still not caring. + +"I want to see Raynor One." + +"On what business, please?" + +"Tell him," said Bart, with immense satisfaction, "that his boss is +here--Bart Steele--and wants to see him right away." + +It had a sort of disrupting effect. She seemed to go blurred at the +edges. After a minute, blinking carefully, she spoke into the +vision-screen, and reported, numbly, "Go on up, Mr. Steele." + +He wasn't expecting a welcome. He said so as the elevator rose. "After +all, if I'd never come back, he'd doubtless have inherited the whole +Eight Colors line, unencumbered. I don't expect he'll be happy to see +me. But he's the only one I can turn to." + +The elevator stopped, opened. They stepped out, and a man stepped +nervously toward them. For a moment, expecting Raynor One, Bart was +deceived; then as the man's face spread in a smile of welcome, he +stopped in incredulous delight. + +"Raynor Three!" + +In overflowing gladness, Bart hugged him. It was like a meeting with the +dead. He felt as if he had really come home. "But--but you remember me!" +he exclaimed, backing away, in amazement. + +Slowly, the man nodded. His eyes were grave. "Yes. I decided it wasn't +worth it, Bart, to go on losing everything that meant anything to me. +Even if it meant I had to give up the stars, never travel again except +as a passenger, I couldn't go on being afraid to remember, never knowing +the consequences or responsibilities of what I'd done." His sad smile +was strangely beautiful. "The _Multiphase_ sailed without me. I've been +here, hoping against hope that someday I'd know the rest." + +Associations clicked into place in Bart's mind. The _Multiphase_. So +Raynor Three was the Mentorian who had smuggled David Briscoe off the +ship, and whose memories, wrung out by the Lhari captain of that ship, +had touched off so many deaths. But he had paid for that--paid many +times over. And now must he pay for this, too? + +Raynor One strode toward them. "So it's really you. I thought it might +be a trap, but Three wouldn't listen. Word came from Antares that +Montano had been arrested and his ship confiscated for illegal landing +on Lharillis. I thought you were probably dead." + +"We sent a boy to do a man's job," Raynor Three said, "and he came back +a man. But tell me--" He looked curiously at Ringg and Meta. + +Bart introduced them, adding, "I came for help, really. I'm facing +charges, and I'm afraid you are, too." + +Raynor One said harshly, "A trap, after all, Three! He trapped you, and +he's led the Lhari to you!" + +"No," Raynor Three said, "or he wouldn't be walking around free and +unguarded and with all his memories intact. Tell me about it, Bart." And +when Bart had given a quick narration of the Lhari judgment, he nodded, +slowly. + +"That's all we ever wanted. Don't think you failed, Bart. The horrible +part was only the way they were trying to keep it secret." + +Ringg interrupted, "Do not judge the Lhari by them, Raynor Three," and +Raynor Three said in good Lhari, "I don't, feathertop. Raynors have been +working with Lhari since the days of Rhazon of Nedrus. But I wanted an +open, official statement of Lhari policy--not secret murders by +fanatics. I had confidence in the Lhari as a people, but not in +individuals. What good did it do to know that the Lhari council in +another galaxy would have condemned the murders and manhunts, when they +were going on in this one, day after day? + +"Don't you see, Bart?" he continued, "you didn't fail--not if we're +going to have the publicity of a test case, publicly heard. That means +the Lhari are prepared to admit, before our whole galaxy, that humans +_can_ survive warp-drive without cold-sleep. That's all David Briscoe +was trying to prove, or your father either--may they rest in peace. So, +whatever happens, we've won." + +"If you two idealists will give me a minute for cold realities," Raynor +One said, "there's this. Among other things. Bart's not yet of legal +age. You may not know this, Bart, but your father appointed me your +legal guardian. When I turned you over to Three, I'm afraid, I assumed +legal responsibility for all the consequences. I ought to have kept you +under my own supervision." + +Bart smiled at Raynor One's stern face. "I crossed two galaxies, and +faced the Lhari High Council, without you to hold my hand. I can face +the Trade Federation." + +"Naturally I will be responsible for your defense," Raynor One said +stiffly. + +"But I don't need a defense," Bart said, turning to Raynor Three and +meeting his eyes. "I'm going to tell the truth, and let it stand. Don't +worry, I'll make sure they don't hold you responsible for my actions." + +"Another thing. Some lunatic from Capella arrived here and all but +accused me of having you murdered. Do you know a Tommy Kendron?" + +"Do I _know_ him!" Bart interrupted with a joyful yell. "Tommy's _here_? +Quick--where do I get in touch with him?" + +An hour later they were all gathered at Raynor Three's country house. +The talk went on far into the night. Tommy wanted to know everything, +and both Raynors wanted to know every detail of Bart's year among the +Lhari, while Meta and Ringg were both curious about how it had begun. + +Bart tried to forget that the next day might bring trouble, even +imprisonment. The Lhari Council had told him to talk as much as he liked +about his voyage, and this might be his only chance. When he had +finished, Tommy leaned forward and gripped Bart's hand tightly. + +"You make them sound like pretty decent people," he said, looking at +Ringg. "A year ago, if you'd told me I'd be here with a Lhari spaceman +and a bunch of Mentorians, I'd never have believed it." + +"Nor I, that I would be as friend under a human roof," Ringg replied. +"But a friend to Bart is my friend also." He touched the faint +discolored scars on his brow, saying softly, "But for Bart, I would not +be here to greet anyone, man or Lhari, as friend." + +"So," said Tommy triumphantly, "you haven't failed, even if you didn't +discover the secret of the Eighth Color--" + +But a sudden, blinding light burst over Bart as Ringg moved his hand to +the scars. Once again he searched a cave beneath a green star, where +Ringg lay unconscious and bleeding, and played his Lhari light fearfully +over a waterfall of colored minerals. _And there was one whose color he +could not identify--red, blue, violet, green, none of these_--the color +of an unknown star in an unknown galaxy, the shimmer of a landing Lhari +ship, the color of an unknown element in an unknown fuel-- + +"The secret of the Eighth Color," he said, and stood up, his hands +literally shaking in excitement. "I'm an _idiot_! No, don't ask me any +questions! I could still be wrong. But even if I go to a prison planet, +the Eighth Color isn't a secret any more!" + +When the others had gone back to the city, he sat with Raynor Three in +the room where the latter had told him of his father's death, where he +had first seen his terrifying Lhari face. They spoke little, but Raynor +Three finally asked, "Were you serious about not wanting a defense, +Bart?" + +"I was. All I want is a chance to tell my own story in my own way. Where +everyone will hear me." + +Raynor Three looked at him curiously. "There's something you're not +telling, Bart. Want to tell me?" + +Bart hesitated, then held out his hand and clasped his kinsman's. +"Thanks--but no." + +Raynor Three saw his hesitation and chuckled. "All right, son. Forget I +asked. You've grown up." + +It was good to sleep in a soft human-type bed again, to eat breakfast +and shave and dress in ordinary human clothing again. But Bart folded +his Lhari tights and the cloak tenderly, with regret. They were the +memory of an experience no one else would ever have. + +Raynor Three let him take the controls as they flew back to the +spaceport city; and a little before noon they entered the great crystal +pylon that was the headquarters of the Federation Trade Bureau on +Procyon Alpha. Men and Lhari were moving in the lobby; among them Bart +saw Vorongil, Meta at his side. He smiled at her, received a wan smile +in return. + +Would Vorongil feel that Bart had deceived him, betrayed him, when he +heard Bart today? + +In the hearing room, four white-crested Lhari sat across from four +dignified, well-dressed men, representatives of the Federation of +Intergalactic Trade. The space beyond was wholly filled with people, +crowded together, and carrying stereo cameras, intercom equipment, the +creepie-peepie of the on-the-spot space commentator. + +"Mr. Steele, we had hoped to make this a quiet hearing, without undue +publicity. But we cannot deny the news media the privilege of covering +it, unless you wish to claim the right to privacy." + +"No, indeed," Bart said clearly. "I want them all to hear what I'm going +to say." + +Raynor One came up to the bench. "Bart, as your guardian, I advise +against it. Some people will call this a publicity stunt. It won't do +Eight Colors any good to admit that men have been spying on the Lhari--" + +"I want press coverage," Bart repeated stubbornly, "and as many +star-systems on the relay as possible." + +"All right. But I wash my hands of it," Raynor One said angrily. + +Bart told his story simply: his meeting with the elder Briscoe, his +meeting with Raynor One--carefully not implicating Raynor One in the +plot--Raynor Three's work in altering his appearance to that of a Lhari, +and the major events of his cruise on the _Swiftwing_. When he came to +the account of the shift into warp-drive, he saw the faces of the press +reporters, and realized that for them this was the story of the year--or +century: _humans can endure star-drive!_ But he went on, not +soft-pedaling Montano's attempted murder, his own choice, the trip to +the Lhari world-- + +One of the board representatives interrupted testily, "What is the point +of this lengthy narrative? You can give the story to the newsmen without +our official sanction, if you want to make it a heroic epic, young +Steele. We have heard sufficient to prove your guilt, and that of +Raynor, in the violation of treaty--" + +"Nevertheless, I want this official," Bart said. "I don't want to be +mobbed when they hear that I have the secret of the star-drive." + +The effect was electric. The four Lhari sat up; their white crests +twitched. Vorongil stared, his gray eyes darkening with fear. One of the +Lhari leaned forward, shooting the question at him harshly. + +"You did _not_ discover the coordinates of the Council Planet of Ke +Lhiro! You did not discover--" + +"I did not," Bart said quietly. "I don't know them and I have no +intention of trying to find them. We don't need to go to the Lhari +Galaxy to find the mineral that generates the warp-frequencies, that +they call 'Catalyst A' and that the Mentorians call the 'Eighth Color.' +There is a green star called Meristem, and a spectroscopic analysis of +that star, I'm sure, will reveal what unknown elements it contains, and +perhaps locate other stars with that element. There must be others in +our galaxy, but the coordinates of the star Meristem are known to me." + +Vorongil was staring at him, his mouth open. He leaped up and cried out, +shaking, "But they assured us that among your memories--there was +nothing of danger to us--" + +Compassionately, gently, Bart said, "There wasn't--not that they knew +about, Vorongil. I didn't realize it myself. I might never have +remembered seeing a mineral that was of a color not found in the +spectrum. Certainly, a memory like that meant nothing to the Lhari +medics who emptied out my mind and turned over all my thoughts. You +Lhari can't see color at all. + +"So no one but I saw the color of the mineral in the cave; you Lhari +yourselves don't _know_ that your fuel looks unlike anything else in the +universe. You never cared to find out how your world looked to your +Mentorians. So your medics never questioned my memories of an eighth +color. To you, it's just another shade of gray, but under a light strong +enough to blind any but Mentorian eyes, it takes on a special color--" + +The conference broke up in disorder, the four Lhari clustering together +in a furious babble, then hastily leaving the room. Bart stood waiting, +feeling empty and cold. Vorongil's stare baffled him with unreadable +emotion. + +"You fool, you unspeakable young idiot!" Raynor One groaned. "Why did +you blurt it out like that before every news media in the galaxy? Why, +we could have had a monopoly on the star-drive--Eight Colors and Vega +Interplanet!" As he saw the men of the press approaching with their +microphones, lights, cameras and TV equipment, he gripped Bart urgently +by the arm. + +"We can still salvage something! Don't talk any more! Refer them to +me--say I'm your guardian and your business manager--you can still make +something of this--" + +"That's just what I don't want to do," Bart replied, and broke away from +him to approach the newsmen. + +"Yes, certainly, I'll answer all your questions, gentlemen." + +Raynor One flung up his hands in despair, but over their shoulder he saw +the glowing face of Meta, and smiled. She, at least, would understand. +So would Raynor Three. + +A page boy touched Bart on the arm. "Mr. Steele," he said, "you are to +appear immediately before the World Council!" + +He was to be asked one question again and again in the days that +followed, but his real answer was to Meta and Raynor Three, looking +quietly past Raynor One and speaking to the news cameras that would +carry his words all over the galaxy to men and Lhari: + +"Why didn't I keep it for myself? Because there are always men like +Montano, who in their mistaken pride will murder and steal for such +things. I want this knowledge to be open to all men, to be used for +their benefit. There has been too much secrecy already. I want all men +to have the stars." + +He had to tell his story again and again to the hastily summoned +representatives of the Galactic Federation. At one point the delegate +from his home star of Vega actually rose and shouted to him, "This is +treason! You betrayed your home world--and the whole human race! Don't +you know the Lhari may fight a war over this?" + +Bart remembered Vorongil's silent, sad confession of the Lhari fears. + +"No," he said gently. "No. There won't be any war unless we start one. +The Lhari won't start any war. Believe me." + +But inwardly, he sweated. What _would_ the Lhari do? + +They had to wait for representatives of the Lhari Council to make the +journey from their home galaxy; meanwhile they kept Bart in protective +custody. There was, of course, no question of sending him to a "prison +planet"; public opinion would have crucified any government that +suggested punishment for the man who had discovered a human world with +deposits of Catalyst A. Bart could claim an "explorer's share," and +Raynor One had lost no time in filing that claim on his behalf. + +But he was lonely and anxious. They had confined him to a set of rooms +high in the building overlooking the spaceport; from the balcony he +could see the ships landing and departing. Life went on, ships came and +went, and out there in the vast night of space, the suns and colors +flamed and rolled, heedless of the little atoms that traveled and +intrigued between them. + +A night came when the buzzer sounded and he opened the door to Raynor +One and Raynor Three. + +"Better turn on your vision-screen, Bart. The Elder of the Lhari Council +has arrived with their official decision, and he's going to announce +it." + +Bart waited, anxiously, pacing the room, while on the TV screen various +dignitaries presented the Elder. + +"We are the first race to travel the stars." A bald head, an ancient +Lhari face seamed like glazed pottery, looked at Bart from the screen, +and Bart remembered when he had stood before that face, sick with +defeat. But now he need not pretend to hold his head erect. + +"We have had a long and triumphant time as masters of the stars," the +Lhari said. "But triumph and power will sicken and stagnate the race +which holds them too long unchallenged. We reached this point once +before. Then a Lhari captain, Rhazon of Nedrun, abandoned the safe ways +of caution, and out of his blind leap in the blind dark came many good +things. Trade with the human race. Our Mentorian allies. A system of +mathematics to take the hazards from our star-travel. + +"Yet once again the Lhari had grown cautious and fearful. And a young +man named Bartol took a blind leap into unknown darkness, all alone--" + +"Not alone," Bart said as if to himself, "it took two men called +Briscoe. And my father. And a couple of Raynors. And even a man called +Montano, because without that, I'd never have decided--" + +"Like Rhazon of Nedrun, like all pioneers, this young man has been +cursed by his own people, the very ones who will one day benefit from +his daring. He has found his people a firm footing among the stars. It +is too late for the Lhari to regret that we did not sooner extend you +the hand of welcome there. You have climbed, unaided, to join us. For +good or ill, we must make room for you. + +"But there is room for all. Competition is the lifeblood of trade, and +we face the future without fear, knowing that life still holds many +surprises for the living. I say to you: welcome to the stars." + +Even while Bart stood speechless with the knowledge of success, the door +opened again, and Bart, turning, cried out in amazement. + +"Tommy! Ringg! Meta!" + +"Sure," Tommy exclaimed, "we've got to celebrate," but Bart stopped, +looking past them. + +"Captain Vorongil!" he said, and went to greet the old Lhari. "I thought +you'd hate me, _rieko mori_." The term of respect fell naturally from +his lips. + +"I did, for a time," Vorongil said quietly. "But I remembered the day we +stood on Lharillis, by the monument. And that you risked--perhaps your +life, certainly your eyesight--to save us from death. So when the Elder +asked for my estimate of your people, I gave it." + +"I thought it sounded like you." Bart felt that his happiness was +complete. + +"And now," Ringg cried, "let's celebrate! Meta, you haven't even told +him that he's free!" + +But while the party got rolling, Bart wondered--free for what? And +after a little while he went out on the balcony and stood looking +down at the spaceport, where the _Swiftwing_ lay in shadow, huge, +beloved--renounced. + +"What now, Bartol?" Vorongil's quiet voice asked from his elbow. "You're +famous--notorious. You're going to be rich, and a celebrity." + +"I was wishing I could get away until the excitement dies down." + +"Well," said Vorongil, "why don't you? The _Swiftwing_ ships out +tonight, Bartol--for Antares and beyond. It will be a couple of years +before your Eight Colors can be made over into an Interstellar line--and +as Raynor One has said to me several times, he'll have to handle all +those details, for you're not of age yet. + +"I've been thinking. Now that we Lhari must share space with your +people, you'll need experienced men for your ships. Unless we all want +the disasters born of trial and error, we Lhari had better help you +train your men quickly and well. I want you to go back on the +_Swiftwing_ with me. Not an apprentice, but representative of Eight +Colors, to act as liaison between men and Lhari--at least until your own +affairs claim your attention." + +Behind them on the balcony, Tommy appeared, making signals to Bart: "Say +yes! Say yes, Bart! _I_ did!" + +Bart's eyes suddenly filled. Out of defeat he had won success beyond his +greatest hopes. But he did not feel all glad; he felt only a heavy +responsibility. Whether good or bad came of the gift he had snatched +from the stars, would rest in large measure on his own shoulders. He was +going back to space--to learn the responsibility that went with it. + +"I accept," he said gravely. + +"Oh, boy!" Tommy dragged Ringg into a sort of war dance of exuberant +celebration, pointing at the flaring glow of the spaceport gates. "Here, +by grace of the Lhari, stands the doorway to all the stars," he quoted. +"Well, maybe you were here first. But look out--we're coming!" + +A doorway to the stars. Bart had crossed that doorway once, frightened +and alone. _Dad, if you could only know!_ The first interstellar ship of +Eight Colors was to bear the name _Rupert Steele_, but that was years in +the future. + +Now, looking at the _Swiftwing_, at Ringg and Tommy, at Raynor Three and +Vorongil, who would all be his shipmates in the new world they were +building, he felt suddenly very lonely again. + +"Come in, Bart. It's your party," Meta said softly, and he felt her hand +lying in his. He looked down at the pretty Mentorian girl. She would be +with him, too. And suddenly he knew he would never be lonely again. + +His arm around Meta, his friends--man and Lhari--at his shoulder, he +went back to the celebration, to plan for the first intergalactic voyage +to the stars. + + +The End + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +AUTHOR'S PROFILE + +Marion Zimmer Bradley was born in Albany, New York and before she +started her writing career she was a file clerk, music teacher and a +carnival performer. Her hobbies are reading science fiction novels, +going to the opera and listening to folk music. + +In addition to having written a number of other books, she has written +more than 30 magazine stories and articles and has been writing +professionally for the past ten years. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +_A Terrifying Tale Of Horror In The Skies_ + + +THE FLYING EYES + +By J. Hunter Holly + +Author of ENCOUNTER and THE GREEN PLANET + + +Linc Hosler was sitting in a packed football stadium when the Flying +Eyes appeared and cast their hypnotic power over half the crowd. +Thousands of people suddenly began marching zombie-like into the woods +where they vanished into a black pit. + +Linc used every resource of the Space Research Lab and the National +Guard to destroy the Eyes. But nothing could stop them, for they proved +immune to bullets and bombs. + +In desperation, Linc captured an Eye and found a way to communicate with +it through his mind. He learned that radiation was fuel for the +creatures' lives. And then they issued their terrible ultimatum: Explode +a series of atom bombs to supply them with radiation or they would turn +the world's population into mindless robots. + +It gave the world two harrowing choices--self-destruction via fallout +from the bombs or annihilation via the sinister Flying Eyes.... + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +_The Dramatic Life Story Of The Second Most Powerful Man In Washington_ + + +ROBERT F. KENNEDY +Assistant President + +By Gary Gordon + +Author of THE RISE AND FALL OF THE JAPANESE EMPIRE + + +Whatever accomplishments can be attributed to John F. Kennedy, some of +the credit must go to his brother Bobby, for, as campaign manager in the +last election, the younger Kennedy had a great deal to do with getting +his brother nominated and then elected. + +Coming into prominence via his work as Chief Counsel to the McClellan +Committee, he has proven to be a tough fighter and the possessor of an +overwhelming will to win. Now, in his dual role as Attorney General and +adviser to the President, he is a power to be reckoned with. + +Here is the life story of Robert F. Kennedy, the President's "chief +trouble-shooter, crisis smoother and selfless rooter" (_Look_); the man +who is "second only to the President in power and influence" (_U.S. News +and World Report_): the man who may be eyeing the White House for his +own future occupancy. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +_Dramatic True Tales Of Courageous Marines, Army, Air Force And Navy Men +Whose Exploits Won Them The Congressional Medal Of Honor_ + + +America's War Heroes + +By Jay Scott + + +No specific class, rank or service has a monopoly on bravery. Every +milieu, every nationality seems to spawn, on occasion, a man capable of +action above and beyond the call of duty. + + +THE HONOR ROLL + + Lt. Col. James Doolittle U.S. Air Corps + T/Sgt. Charles (Commando) Kelly U.S. Army + Chaplain Joseph O'Callahan U.S. Navy + Major Gregory (Pappy) Boyington U.S. Marines + 1st Lt. Audie Murphy U.S. Army + Capt. Joseph Foss U.S. Marines + Commander Samuel Dealey U.S. Navy + Sergeant John Basilone U.S. Marines + Private Rodger Young U.S. Army + +Here are their stories, told with a wealth of dramatic and unforgettable +detail, showing the caliber of the men who served our country in time of +national peril. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +_Compelling Stories Of The Exploits Of Marine Winners Of The +Congressional Medal Of Honor_ + + +MARINE WAR HEROES + +By Jay Scott + +Author of AMERICA'S WAR HEROES + + +No group of fighting men has shown more bravery and resourcefulness than +the U.S. Marines. Rushed to the hot spots of the world in time of war, +they hare consistently shown a disdain for personal safety, always +playing a vital role in our country's victories. + +Standing even taller, were the men among them who somehow managed to be +heroes among heroes, men whose exploits were extraordinary--the +Congressional Medal of Honor winners. + +A total of 234 Marines have been awarded The Congressional Medal of +Honor. Here in this dramatic book are exciting, personalized accounts of +some of the most courageous exploits of the heroes of the greatest +fighting force the world has ever known. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +OTHER SIGNIFICANT MONARCH BOOKS + + +MS18 WHAT'S WRONG WITH U.S. FOREIGN POLICY? by Frank L. Kluckholm + +MS17 SKIN AND SCUBA DIVING by Richard Hardwick + +MS16 THE CRISIS IN CUBA by Thomas Freeman + +MS15 THERMONUCLEAR WARFARE by Poul Anderson + +MS14 THE REAL STORY ON CUBA by James Bayard + +MS13 HOW TO STAY YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL by Jan Michael + +MS11 THE RED CARPET by Ezra Taft Benson A grim warning against +socialism--the royal road to communism. + +MS10 THE HISTORY OF SURGERY by L. T. Woodward, M.D. + +MS9 A GALLERY OF THE SAINTS by Randall Garrett + +MS8 THE COLD WAR by Deane and David Heller + +MS7 FORGET ABOUT CALORIES by Leland H. O'Brian + +MS6 THE NAKED RISE OF COMMUNISM by Frank L. Kluckholm + +MS5 PLANNED PARENTHOOD by Henry De Forrest, M.D. + +MS4 THE RISE AND FALL OF THE JAPANESE EMPIRE by Gary Gordon + +MS3B AMERICA: LISTEN! by Frank Kluckholm (Second new enlarged edition. +Completely updated.) An honest report to the nation on the current chaos +in Washington. + +MS2 THE BERLIN CRISIS by Deane and David Heller + +K69 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF THE WORLD'S GREAT EVENTS: 1936 by D. S. Halacy, Jr. + +K68 THE FABULOUS ROCKEFELLERS by Robert Silverberg + +K65 S O S: THE WORLD'S GREAT SEA DISASTERS by Keith Jameson + +K59 POPE JOHN XXIII: PASTORAL PRINCE by Randall Garrett + +K56 SIR WINSTON CHURCHILL by Edgar Black + +MA350 U. S. NAVY IN ACTION by John Clagett + +MA329 MARINE WAR HEROES by Jay Scott + +MA321 TARAWA by Tom Bailey 50c + +MA319 U.S. MARINES IN ACTION by T. R. Fehrenbach + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Colors of Space, by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COLORS OF SPACE *** + +***** This file should be named 20796.txt or 20796.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/7/9/20796/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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