_A Juvenile Science Fiction Novel_

 THE COLORS OF SPACE

 Marion Zimmer Bradley

MONARCH BOOKS, INC. Derby, Connecticut

Published in August, 1963Copyright 1963 by Marion Zimmer Bradley

[Transcriber's note: This is a rule 6 clearance. PG has not been ableto 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 andwriters of non-fiction especially chosen for their literary merit andreading entertainment. 

Printed in the United States of AmericaAll Rights Reserved

ToDAVID STEPHEN

SUDDEN PANIC

It was a week before the Lhari ship went into warp-drive, and all thattime young Bart Steele had stayed in his cabin. He was so bored with hisown company that the Mentorian medic was a welcome sight when he came toprepare him for _cold-sleep_. 

The Mentorian paused, needle in hand. "Do you wish to be wakened for thetime we shall spend in each of the three star systems, sir? You can, ofcourse, be given enough drug to keep you in cold-sleep until we reachyour 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 washelpless. The ship would touch down on three worlds, and on any of themthe Lhari might have his description, or his alias! He could be takenoff, 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 thennothing. .. . 

CHAPTER ONE

The Lhari spaceport didn't belong on Earth. 

Bart Steele had thought that, a long time ago, when he first saw it. Hehad been just a kid then; twelve years old, and all excited about seeingEarth for the first time--Earth, the legendary home of mankind beforethe Age of Space, the planet of Bart's far-back ancestors. And the firstthing he'd seen on Earth, when he got off the starship, was the Lharispaceport. 

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 hadsaid softly. "The trouble is, if the Lhari spaceport wasn't on Earth, wewouldn't be on Earth either. Remember that. "

Bart remembered it, five years later, as he got off the strip of movingsidewalk. He turned to wait for Tommy Kendron, who was getting hisbaggage off the center strip of the moving roadway. Bart Steele andTommy Kendron had graduated together, the day before, from the SpaceAcademy of Earth. Now Tommy, who had been born on the ninth planet ofthe star Capella, was taking the Lhari starship to his faraway home, andBart's father was coming back to Earth, on the same starship, to meethis son. 

_Five years, _ Bart thought. _That's a long time. I wonder if Dad willknow me?_

"Let me give you a hand with that stuff, Tommy. "

"I can manage, " Tommy chuckled, hefting the plastic cases. "They don'tallow you much baggage weight on the Lhari ships. Certainly not morethan I can handle. "

The two lads stood in front of the spaceport gate for a minute. Over thegate, which was high and pointed and made of some clear colorlessmaterial like glass, was a jagged symbol resembling a flash oflightning; the sign, in Lhari language, for the home world of the Lhari. 

They walked through the pointed glass gate, and stood for a moment, bymutual consent, looking down over the vast expanse of the Lharispaceport. 

This had once been a great desert. Now it was all floored in with somestrange substance that was neither glass, metal nor concrete; it lookedlike gleaming crystal--though it felt soft underfoot--and in the glareof 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 havefunny eyes, if they can stand all this glare!"

Inside the glass gate, a man in a guard's uniform gave them each a pairof dark glasses. "Put them on now, boys. And don't look directly at theship when it lands. "

Tommy hooked the earpieces of the dark glasses over his ears, and sighedwith relief. Bart frowned, but finally put them on. Bart's mother hadbeen a Mentorian--from the planet Mentor, of the star Deneb, a hundredtimes brighter than the sun. Bart had her eyes. But Mentorians weren'tpopular 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 thevery center of the spaceport, a high, clear-glass skyscraper rose, catching the sunlight in a million colors. Around the building, smallcopters and robotcabs veered, discharging passengers; and the movingsidewalks were crowded with people coming and going. Here and there inthe crowd, standing out because of their height and the silvery metalliccloaks they wore, were the strange tall figures of the Lhari. 

"Well, how about going down?" Tommy glanced impatiently at histimepiece. "Less than half an hour before the starship touches down. "

"All right. We can get a sidewalk over here. " Reluctantly, Bart tore hiseyes from the fascinating spectacle, and followed Tommy, stepping ontoone of the sidewalks. It bore them down a long, sloping ramp toward thefloor of the spaceport, then sped toward the glass skyscraper; came torest at the wide pointed doors, depositing them in the midst of thecrowd. The jagged lightning flash was there over the doors of thebuilding, 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 hadfirst passed through this doorway. And his father, looking up, had saidunder his breath "Not for always, Son. Someday men will have a doorwayto the stars, and the Lhari won't be standing in the door. "

Inside the building, it was searingly bright. The high open rotunda wasfilled with immense mirrors, and glass ramps running up and down, movingstaircases, confusing signs and flashing lights on tall oddly shapedpillars. The place was crowded with men from all over the planet, butthe dark glasses they all wore gave them a strange sort of familyresemblance. 

Tommy said, "I'd better check my reservations. "

Bart nodded. "Meet you on the upper level later, " he said, and got on amoving 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 seeeverything. On the step immediately in front of him, two Lhari werestanding; with their backs turned, they might almost have been men. Unusually tall, unusually thin, but men. Then Bart amended thatmentally. The Lhari had two arms, two legs and a head apiece--they werethat much like men. Their faces had two eyes, two ears, and a nose andmouth, all in the right places. But the similarity ended there. 

They had skin of a curious pale silvery gray, and pale, pure-white hairrising in what looked like a feathery crest. The eyes were long andslanting, the forehead high and narrow, the nose delicately thin andchiseled with long vertically slit nostrils, the ears long, pointed andlobeless. The mouth looked almost human, though the chin was abnormallypointed. The hands would almost have passed inspection as humanhands--except for the long, triangular nails curved over the fingertipslike the claws of a cat. They wore skin-tight clothes of some metallicsilky stuff, and long flowing gleaming silvery capes. They lookedunearthly, elfin and strange, and in their own way they were beautiful. 

The two Lhari in front of Bart had been talking softly, in their fasttwittering speech; but as the hum of the crowds on the upper levels grewlouder, they raised their voices, and Bart could hear what they weresaying. He was a little surprised to find that he could still understandthe Lhari language. He hadn't heard a word of it in years--not since hisMentorian mother died. The Lhari would never guess that he couldunderstand their speech. Not one human in a million could speak orunderstand a dozen words of Lhari, except the Mentorians. 

"Do you really think that _human_--" the first Lhari spoke the word asif it were a filthy insult--"will have the temerity to come in by thisship?"

"No reasonable being can tell what _humans_ will do, " said the secondLhari. "But then, no reasonable being can tell what our own PortAuthorities 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 adozen officials and a dozen different kinds of formalities. "

The younger Lhari sounded angry. "And we have only a description--noname, nothing! How do they expect us to do anything under thoseconditions? What I can't understand is how it ever happened, or how theman managed to get away. What worries me is the possibility that he mayhave communicated with others we don't know about. Those bungling foolswho let the first man get away can't even be sure--"

"Do not speak of it here, " said the old Lhari sharply. "There areMentorians in the crowd who might understand us. " He turned and lookedstraight at Bart, and Bart felt as if the slanted strange eyes werelooking right through to his bones. The Lhari said, in Universal, "Whoare you, boy? What iss your businesssses here?"

Bart replied in the same language, politely, "My father's coming in onthis ship. I'm looking for the information desk. "

"Up there, " said the old Lhari, pointing with a clawed hand, and lostinterest in Bart. He said to his companion, in their own language, "Always, I regret these episodes. I have no malice against humans. Isuppose even this Vegan that we are seeking has young, and a mate, whowill regret his loss. "

"Then he should not have pried into Lhari matters, " said the youngerLhari fiercely. "If they'd killed him right away--"

The soaring staircase swooped up to the top level; the two Lhari steppedoff and mingled swiftly with the crowd, being lost to sight. Bartwhistled 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 theLhari. He felt a cold, crawling chill down his insides. The Lhari hadspoken regretfully, but the way they'd speak of a fly they couldn'tmanage 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 letthe 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 theplanet ceased to function; you might as well be on that unbelievablyremote world in another galaxy that was the Lhari home planet--thatworld 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--itreported past Luna City a few minutes ago. I'm thirsty--how about adrink?"

There was a refreshment stand on this level; they debated brieflybetween orange juice and a drink with a Lhari name that meant simply_cold sweet_, and finally decided to try it. The name proveddescriptive; 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 andLhari are alike in a lot of ways. They breathe the same air. Eat aboutthe same food. " Their bodies were adjusted to about the same gravity. They had the same body chemistry--in fact, you couldn't tell Lhari bloodfrom human, even under a microscope. And in the terrible Orion Spaceportwreck sixty years ago, doctors had found that blood plasma from humanscould be used for wounded Lhari, and vice versa, though it wasn't safeto transfuse whole blood. But then, even among humans there were fiveblood types. 

And yet, for all their likeness, they were _different_. 

Bart sipped the cold Lhari drink, seeing himself in the mirror behindthe refreshment stand; a tall teen-ager, looking older than hisseventeen years. He was lithe and well muscled from five years of sportsand acrobatics at the Space Academy, he had curling red hair and grayeyes, 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 nowI'm grown-up. _

Tommy grinned at him in the mirror. "What are you going to do, now we'vefinished our so-called education?"

"What do you think? Go back to Vega with Dad, by Lhari ship, and helphim run Vega Interplanet. Why else would I bother with all thatastrogation and math?"

"You're the lucky one, with your father owning a dozen ships! He must bealmost as rich as the Lhari. "

Bart shook his head. "It's not that easy. Space travel inside a systemthese days is small stuff; all the real travel and shipping goes to theLhari ships. "

It was a sore point with everyone. Thousands of years ago, men hadspread 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 theuniverse could exceed the speed of light. It took years to go from Earthto the nearest star. 

But they'd done it. From the nearer stars, they had sent out colonizingships all through the galaxy. Some vanished and were never heard fromagain, but some made it, and in a few centuries man had spread all overhundreds of star-systems. 

And then man met the people of the Lhari. 

It was a big universe, with measureless millions of stars, and plenty ofroom for more than two intelligent civilizations. It wasn't surprisingthat the Lhari, who had only been traveling space for a couple ofthousand years themselves, had never come across humans before. But theyhad been delighted to meet another intelligent race--and it wasextremely profitable. 

Because men were still held, mostly, to the planets of their ownstar-systems. Ships traveling between the stars by light-drive were rareand ruinously expensive. But the Lhari had the warp-drive, and almostovernight the whole picture changed. By warp-drive, hundreds of timesfaster than light at peak, the years-long trip between Vega and Earth, for instance, was reduced to about three months, at a price anyone couldpay. Mankind could trade and travel all over their galaxy, but they didit on Lhari ships. The Lhari had an absolute, unbreakable monopoly onstar travel. 

"That's what hurts, " Tommy said. "It wouldn't do us any good to have thestar-drive. Humans can't stand faster-than-light travel, except incold-sleep. "

Bart nodded. The Lhari ships traveled at normal speeds, like the regularplanetary ships, inside each star-system. Then, at the borders of thevast gulf of emptiness between stars, they went into warp-drive; butfirst, every human on board was given the cold-sleep treatment thatplaced them in suspended animation, allowing their bodies to endure thewarp-drive. 

He finished his drink. The increasing bustle in the crowds below themtold him that time must be getting short. A tall, impressive-lookingLhari strode through the crowd, followed at a respectful distance by twoMentorians, tall, redheaded humans wearing metallic cloaks like those ofthe Lhari. Tommy nudged Bart, his face bitter. 

"Look at those lousy Mentorians! How can they do it? Fawning upon theLhari that way, yet they're as human as we are! _Slaves_ of the Lhari!"

Bart felt the involuntary surge of anger, instantly controlled. "It'snot that way at all. My mother was a Mentorian, remember. She made fivecruises on a Lhari ship before she married my father. "

Tommy sighed. "I guess I'm just jealous--to think the Mentorians cansign on the Lhari ship as crew, while you and I will never pilot a shipbetween the stars. What did she do?"

"She was a mathematician. Before the Lhari met up with men, they used asystem of mathematics as clumsy as the old Roman numerals. You have toadmire them, when you realize that they learned stellar navigation withtheir old system, though most ships use human math now. And of course, you know their eyes aren't like ours. Among other things, they'recolor-blind. They see everything in shades of black or white or gray. 

"So they found out that humans aboard their ships were useful. Youremember how humans, in the early days in space, used certain birds, whowere more sensitive to impure air than they were. When the birds keeledover, they could tell it was time for humans to start looking over theair systems! The Lhari use Mentorians to identify colors for them. And, since Mentor was the first planet of humans that the Lhari had contactwith, they've always been closer to them. "

Tommy looked after the two Mentorians enviously. "The fact is, I'd shipout 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 halfMentorian, I can even speak Lhari. "

"Why don't you? I would. "

"Oh, no, you wouldn't, " Bart said softly. "Not even very many Mentorianswill. 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 thesecret of warp-drive. They never managed it, but nowadays the Lhari giveall the Mentorians what amounts to a brainwashing--deep hypnosis, beforeand after every voyage, so that they can neither look for anything thatmight threaten the Lhari monopoly of space, nor reveal it--even under atruth 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 theLhari. The Lhari can't tell a diamond from a ruby, except byspectrographic analysis, for instance. And she--"

A high gong note sounded somewhere, touching off an explosion of warningbells 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 hishand. "Well, Bart, I guess this is where we say good-bye. "

They shook hands, their eyes meeting for a moment in honest grief. Insome 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 hisluggage and started down a sloping ramp toward an enclosure marked TOPASSENGER ENTRANCE. 

Warning bells rang again. The glare intensified until the glow in thesky was unendurable, but Bart looked anyhow, making out the strangeshape 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 thevisible spectrum to red. At last it was just gleaming glassy Lhari-metalcolor 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. Hiseyes, alert for his father's tall figure, noted with surprise that theship's stairs were guarded by four cloaked Lhari, each with a Mentorianinterpreter. They were stopping each person who got off the starship, asking for identity papers. Bart realized he was seeing another segmentof the same drama he had overheard discussed, and wished he knew what itwas all about. 

The crowd was thinning now. Robotcabs were swerving in, hovering abovethe ground to pick up passengers, then veering away. The gap in thestarship'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 theship, he knew, was for loading passengers. Bart moved carefully throughthe thinning crowd, almost to the foot of the stairs. One of the Lharichecking 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 beensurrounded by a group of welcoming relatives, or summoned a robotcab andgone. The man was wearing Vegan clothes, but he wasn't Bart's father. Hewas a fat little man, with ruddy cheeks and a fringe of curling grayhair all around his bald dome. _Maybe he'd know if there was anotherVegan 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 thefat man was coming straight toward him. 

"Hello, Son, " the fat man said loudly. Then, as two of the Lhari startedtoward him, the strange man did an incredible thing. He reached out histwo hands and grabbed Bart. 

"Well, boy, you've sure grown, " he said, in a loud, cheerful voice, "butyou're not too grown-up to give your old Dad a good hug, are you?" Hepulled Bart roughly into his arms. Bart started to pull away and stammerthat the fat man had made a mistake, but the pudgy hand gripped hiswrist with unexpected strength. 

"Bart, listen to me, " the stranger whispered, in a harsh fast voice. "Goalong 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, Bartremained perfectly still, while the man repeated in that loud, jovialvoice, "How you've grown!" He let him go, stepping away a pace or two, and whispered urgently, "Say something. And take that stupid look offyour face. "

As he stepped back, Bart saw his eyes. In the chubby, good-natured redface, the stranger's eyes were half-mad with fear. 

In a split second, Bart remembered the two Lhari and their talk of afugitive. 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 fromshaking. "Been such a long time, I'd--half forgotten what you lookedlike. Have a good trip?"

"About like always. " The fat man was breathing hard, but his voicesounded 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 hisgrip on Bart's wrist was so hard it hurt. Bart, grasping at random forsomething to say, gabbled, "Too bad you couldn't get to my graduation. Imade 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, " andturned around. "You want something?"

The tallest of the Lhari--the old one, whom Bart had seen on theescalator--looked long and hard at him. When they spoke Universal, theirvoices 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 themover. Bart saw his father's name printed across the top. 

The Lhari gestured to a Mentorian interpreter: "What colorrr isss thisssman's hairrr?"

The Mentorian said in the Lhari language, "His hair is _gray_. " He usedthe Universal word; there were, of course, no words for colors in theLhari speech. 

"The man we sssseek has hair of _red_, " said the Lhari. "And he issstall, not fat. "

"The boy is tall and with _red_ hair, " the Mentorian volunteered, andthe old Lhari made a gesture of disdain. 

"This boy is twenty years younger than the man whose description came tous. Why did they not give us a picture or at least a name?" He turned tothe other Lhari and said in their own shrill speech, "I suspected thisman because he was alone. And I had seen this boy on the upper mezzanineand spoken with him. We watched him, knowing sooner or later the fatherwould seek him. Ask him. " He gestured and the Mentorian said, "Who isthis man, you?"

Bart gulped. For the first time he noted the energon-ray shockers at thebelts of the four Lhari. He'd heard about those. They could stun--orthey could kill, and quite horribly. He said, "This is my father. Youwant my cards, too?" He hauled out his identity papers. "My name's BartSteele. "

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 onBart's, and Bart thought, _If we're lucky, we can get out of the portbefore 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'tknow whether he was worried or scared. _Where was his father?_ Why didthis man have his dad's papers? Was his father hiding inside the Lhariship? He wanted to run, to burst away from the imposter, but the guy wasshaking so hard Bart couldn't just leave him standing there. If theLhari got him, he was a dead duck. 

A copter swooped down, the pilot signaling. The little man saidhoarsely, "No. Robotcab. "

Bart waved the copter away, getting a dirty look from the pilot, andpunched a button at the stand for one of the unmanned robotcabs. Itswung down, hovered motionless. Bart boosted the fat man in. Inside, theman collapsed on the seat, leaning back, puffing, his hand pressed hardto 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 myfather?_"

The man's eyes were half-shut. He said, gasping, "Don't ask me anyquestions for a minute. " He thumbed a tablet into his mouth, andpresently 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 suddenrage, "you owe me some explanations. For all I know, you're a criminaland the Lhari have every right to chase you! Why have you got myfather's papers? Did you steal them to get away from the Lhari? _Where'smy 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--butthey've probably got that by now, uncoded. We've only confused them fora little while. But if you hadn't played along, they'd have had youwatched, and when they get hold of the name Steele--they will, sooner orlater, 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 lefthim, he's dead. My name is Briscoe. Edmund Briscoe. Your father saved mylife years ago, never mind how. The less you know, the safer you'll befor a while. His major worry just now is about you. He was afraid, if hedidn't turn up here, you'd take the first ship back to Vega. So he gaveme his papers and sent me to warn you--"

Bart shook his head. "It all sounds phony as can be. How do I knowwhether to believe you or not?" His hand hovered over the robotcabcontrols. "We're going straight to the police. If you're okay, theywon'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 longbefore you were born. Until he told me, I never knew he'd married orhad a son. I'd never have known you, except that you're the livingimage--" 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 hereto do, because your father saved my life once when I was young andhealthy, and gave me twenty good years before I got old and fat andsick. Win or lose, I won't live to see you hunted down like a dog, likemy own son--"

"Don't talk like that, " Bart said, a creepy feeling coming over him. "Ifyou're sick, let me take you to a doctor. "

Briscoe did not even hear. "Wait, there is something else. Your fathersaid, 'Tell Bart I've gone looking for the Eighth Color. Bart will knowwhat 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 andvery fair, was bending over a blueprint, pointing with a delicate fingerat something, straightening, saying in her light musical voice:_

_"The fuel catalyst--it's a strange color, a color you never sawanywhere. 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 ofthe 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 knowwhat 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 toyou. Now will you do as I tell you? Within a couple of hours, they'll becombing the planet for you, but by that time the ship I came in on willhave taken off again. They only stop a short time here, for mail, passengers--no cargo. They may get under way again before all messagesare cleared and decoded. " He stopped and breathed hard. "The Earthauthorities might protect you, but you would never be able to board aLhari ship again--and that would mean staying on Earth for the rest ofyour 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--aspray. "

He pressed a button on the bulb in his hand; Bart gasped, feeling coldwetness on his head. His own hand came away stained black. 

"Keep still. " Briscoe said irritably. "You'll need it at the Procyon endof the run. Here. " He stuck some papers into Bart's hand, then punchedsome buttons on the robotcab's control. It wheeled and swerved sorapidly 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, hesaid, "Bart, don't worry about me. It's all over for me, whateverhappens. Just remember this. What your father is doing is _worth_ doing, and if you start stalling, arguing, demanding explanations, you can foulup a hundred people--and kill about half of them. "

He closed Bart's fingers roughly over the papers. The robotcab hoveredover the spaceport. "Now listen to me, very carefully. When I stop thecab, 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 doorand 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 hisshoulder. "Promise! Whatever happens, you'll _get on that ship_!"

Bart swallowed, feeling as if he'd been shoved into a sillycops-and-robbers game. But Briscoe's urgency had convinced him. "Wheream I going?"

"All I have is a name--Raynor Three, " Briscoe said, "and the messageabout the Eighth Color. That's all I know. " His mouth twisted again inthat painful gasp. 

The cab swooped down. Bart found his voice. "But what then? Is Dadthere? Will I know--"

"I don't know any more than I've told you, " Briscoe said. Abruptly therobotcab came to a halt, swaying a little. Briscoe jerked the door open, gave Bart a push, and Bart found himself stumbling out on the rampbeside the spaceport building. He caught his balance, looked around, andrealized that the robotcab was already climbing the sky again. 

Immediately before him, neon letters spelled TO PASSENGER ENTRANCEONLY. Bart stumbled forward. The Lhari by the gate thrust out adisinterested 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 astrip of pink tickets. 

"Procyon Alpha. Corridor B, straight through. " The Lhari gestured, andBart went through the narrow passageway, came out at the other end, andfound himself at the very base of a curving stair that led up and uptoward a door in the side of the huge Lhari ship. Bart hesitated. Inanother 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 waspat a little nest of Lhari. They ducked and scattered; the robotcabswerved away, hovered, swooped back. This time it struck one of theLhari grazingly with landing gear and knocked him sprawling. Bart stoodwith his mouth open, as if paralyzed. 

_Briscoe! What was he doing?_

The fallen Lhari lay without moving. The robotcab moved in again, as iffor the kill, buzzing viciously overhead. 

Then a beam of light arced from one of the drawn energon-ray tubes. Therobotcab glowed briefly red, then seemed to sag, sink together; thenpuddled, a slag heap of molten metal, on the glassy floor of the port. Alittle 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 androbbers, and suddenly it was as serious as melted death lying there onthe spaceport. _Briscoe!_

Someone shoved him and said, "Come on, quit gawking, kid. They won'thold the ship all day just because some nut finds a new way to commitsuicide. "

Bart, his legs numb, walked up the ramp. Briscoe had died to give himthis 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, motionedhim through. Bart passed through the airlock, and into a brightly litcorridor half full of passengers. The line was moving slowly, and forthe first time Bart had a chance to think. 

He had never seen violent death before. In this civilized world, youdidn't. He knew if he thought about Briscoe, he'd start bawling like ababy, so he swallowed hard a couple of times, set his chin, andconcentrated on the trip to Procyon Alpha. That meant this ship wasoutbound on the Aldebaran run--Proxima Centauri, Sirius, Pollux, Procyon, Capella and Aldebaran. 

The line of passengers was disappearing through a doorway. A woman aheadof Bart turned and said nervously, "We won't be put into cold-sleepright 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 willbe several days, at least. "

Beyond the doorway the lights dwindled, and a Mentorian interpreter tookhis dark glasses, saying, "Kindly remove your belt, shoes and otheraccessories of leather or metal before stepping into the decontaminationchamber. They will be separately decontaminated and returned to you. Papers, please. "

With a small twinge of fright, Bart surrendered them. Would theMentorian ask why he was carrying two wallets? Inside the other one, hestill had his Academy ID card which identified him as Bart Steele, andif the Mentorian looked through them to check, and found out he wascarrying two sets of identity papers. .. . 

But the Mentorian merely dumped all his pocket paraphernalia, withoutlooking at it, into a sack. "Just step through here. "

Holding up his trousers with both hands, Bart stepped inside theindicated cubicle. It was filled with faint bluish light. Bart felt astrong tingling and a faint electrical smell, and along his forearmsthere was a slight prickling where the small hairs were all standing onend. He knew that the invisible R-rays were killing all themicroorganisms in his body, so that no disease germ or stray funguswould be carried from planet to planet. 

The bluish light died. Outside, the Mentorian gave him back his shoesand belt, handed him the paper sack of his belongings, and a paper cupfull of greenish fluid. 

"Drink this. "

"What is it?"

The medic said patiently, "Remember, the R-rays killed _all_ themicroorganisms in your body, including the good ones--the antibodiesthat protect you against disease, and the small yeasts and bacteria thatlive in your intestines and help in the digestion of your food. So wehave to replace those you need to stay healthy. See?"

The green stuff tasted a little brackish, but Bart got it down allright. 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 diseasegerms and helpful bacteria. 

Another Mentorian official, this one a young woman, gave him a key witha numbered tag, and a small booklet with WELCOME ABOARD printedon the cover. 

The tag was numbered 246-B, which made Bart raise his eyebrows. B classwas normally too expensive for Bart's father's modest purse. It wasn'tquite the luxury class A, reserved for planetary governors andambassadors, but it was plenty luxurious. Briscoe had certainly sent himtraveling 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 littlecabin, measuring at least six feet by eight, and he would evidently haveit to himself. There was a comfortably big bunk, a light that could beturned on and off instead of the permanent glow-walls of the cheaperclass, a private shower and toilet, and a placard on the walls informinghim that passengers in B class had the freedom of the Observation Domeand the Recreation Lounge. There was even a row of buttons dispensingsynthetic foods, in case a passenger preferred privacy or didn't want towait for meals in the dining hall. 

A buzzer sounded and a Mentorian voice announced, "Five minutes to RoomCheck. Passengers will please remove all metal in their clothing, anddeposit in the lead drawers. Passengers will please recline in theirbunks 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 andlay down. Then, in a sudden panic, he got up again. His papers as BartSteele were still in the sack. He got them out, and with a feeling as ifhe were crossing a bridge and burning it after him, tore up every scrapof paper that identified him as Bart Steele of Vega Four, graduate ofthe 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 WarrenBriscoe, of Aldebaran Four. According to them, David Briscoe was twentyyears old, hair black, eyes hazel, height six foot one inch. Bartwondered, painfully, if Briscoe had a son and if David Briscoe knewwhere his father was. There was also a license, validated with four runson the Aldebaran Intrasatellite Cargo Company--planetary ships--with therank of Apprentice Astrogator; and a considerable sum of money. 

Bart put the papers in his pants pocket and the torn-up scraps of hisold ones into the trashbin before he realized that they looked exactlylike what they were--torn-up legal identity papers and a broken plasticcard. _Nobody_ destroyed identity papers for any good reason. What couldhe do?

Then he remembered something from the Academy. Starships wereclosed-system cycles, no waste was discarded, but everything wascollected in big chemical tanks, broken down to separate elements, purified and built up again into new materials. He threw the paper intothe toilet, worked the plastic card back and forth, back and forth untilhe had wrenched it into inch-wide bits, and threw it after them. 

The cabin door opened and a Mentorian said irritably, "Please lie downand fasten your straps. I haven't all day. "

Hastily Bart flushed the toilet and went to the bunk. Now everythingthat could identify him as Bart Steele was on its way to the breakdowntanks. Before long, the complex hydrocarbons and cellulose would all beinnocent little molecules of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen; they might turnup in new combinations as sugar on the table!

The Mentorian grumbled, "You young people think the rules mean everybodybut you, " and strapped him far too tightly into the bunk. Bart feltresentful; just because Mentorians could work on Lhari ships, did theyhave to act as if they owned everybody?

When the man had gone, Bart drew a deep breath. Was he really doing theright 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 anightmare. His father a fugitive from the Lhari. Briscoe dead. Hehimself traveling, with forged papers, to a star he'd never seen. 

He braced himself, knowing the siren was the last warning beforetakeoff. First there would be the hum of great turbines deep in theship, then the crushing surge of acceleration. He had made a dozen tripsinside the solar system, but no matter how often he did it, there wasthe strange excitement, the little pinpoint of fear, like an exotictaste, that was almost pleasant. 

The door opened and Bart grabbed a fistful of bed-ticking as two Lharicame into the room. 

One of them said, in their strange shrill speech, "This boy is the rightage. "

Bart froze. 

"You're seeing spies in every corner, Ransell, " said the other, then inUniversal, "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 rifflethrough 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. Heactually saw them. "

The other replied, "But I saw the machine that disintegrated. I stillsay 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 courrrsewe could not allow that, anyone not prrroperly prrotected would die inthe 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 mademe drink made me feel--sort of sick. "

"You may send for a medical officer after acceleration, " said the Lhariexpressionlessly. "The summoning bell is at your left. "

They turned and went out and Bart gulped. Lhari, in person, checking thepassenger 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 worthyantagonists. _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 hefelt the slow surge. Then a violent sense of pressure popped his eardrums, weight crowded down on him like an elephant sitting on his chest, and there was a horrible squashed sensation dragging his limbs out ofshape. It grew and grew. Bart lay still and sweated, trying to ease hisuncomfortable position, unable to move so much as a finger. The Lhariships hit 12 gravities in the first surge of acceleration. Bart felt asif he were spreading out, under the weight, into a puddle offlesh--_melted flesh like Briscoe's_--

Bart writhed and bit his lip till he could taste blood, wishing he wereyoung enough to bawl out loud. 

Abruptly, it eased, and the blood started to flow again in his numbedlimbs. Bart loosened his straps, took a few deep breaths, wiped hisface--wringing wet, whether with sweat or tears he wasn't sure--and satup in his bunk. The loudspeaker announced, "Acceleration One iscompleted. Passengers on A and B Decks are invited to witness thepassing of the Satellites from the Observation Lounge in half an hour. "

Bart got up and washed his face, remembering that he had no luggage withhim, not so much as a toothbrush. 

At the back of his mind, packed up in a corner, was the continuing worryabout his father, the horror at Briscoe's ghastly death, the fear of theLhari; but he slammed the lid firmly on them all. For the moment he wassafe. They might be looking for Bart Steele by now, but they weren'tlooking for David Briscoe of Aldebaran. He might just as well relax andenjoy the trip. He went down to the Observation Lounge. 

It had been darkened, and one whole wall of the room was made of clearquartzite. Bart drew a deep breath as the vast panorama of space openedout 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 ironfilings moving to the motion of a magnet, were the waves upon waves ofcosmic dust--tiny free electrons, ions, particles of gas; free of theheavier atmosphere, themselves invisible, they formed in their billionsinto bright clouds around the ship; pale, swirling veils of mist. Andthrough their dim shine, the brilliant flares of the fixed stars burnedclear and steady, so far away that even the hurling motion of the shipcould not change their positions. 

One by one he picked out the constellations. Aldebaran swung on thependant 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 ofthe Lyre. 

Colors, colors! Inside the atmosphere of Earth's night, the stars hadbeen pale white sparks against black. Here, against the misty-paleswirls of cosmic dust, they burned with color heaped on color; thebloody burning crimson of Antares, the metallic gold of Capella, thesullen pulsing of Betelgeuse. They burned, each with its own inwardflame and light, like handfuls of burning jewels flung by some gianthand upon the swirling darkness. It was a sight Bart felt he could watchforever and still be hungry to see; the never-changing, ever-changingcolors 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 butbright or brighter light. "

A bell rang melodiously in the ship and the passengers in the loungebegan to stir and move toward the door, to stretch limbs cramped likeBart's by tranced watching, to talk quickly of ordinary things. 

"I suppose that bell means dinner, " said a vaguely familiar voice atBart's elbow. "Synthetics, I suppose, but at least we can all getacquainted. "

The light from the undarkened hall fell on their faces as they movedtoward 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 Kendronwas on this ship--to make his alias useless; Tommy was looking at him insurprise and delight. 

"Why didn't you tell me, or did you and your father decide at the lastminute? 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 thefull 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 youwere a friend of mine. "

Bart wondered suddenly, had he done the wrong thing? He had a feeling hemight need a friend. Badly. 

Well, it was too late now. He stared Tommy in the eye and said, "I'venever 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, Tommystuck out a hand. "Say, that bell means dinner, why don't we go downtogether? I don't know a soul on the ship, and it looks likeluck--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 upthe pretense. Sooner or later, he'd give himself away, use some habitualphrase or gesture Tommy would recognize. 

Should he take a chance--reveal himself to Tommy and ask him to keepquiet? No. This wasn't a game. One man was already dead. He didn't wantTommy to be next. 

There was only one way out. He said coldly, "thank you, but I have otherthings 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, thinkingwith annoyance of the anticipated good food of the dining room. He knewhe couldn't risk meeting Tommy again, and drearily resigned himself tostaying 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, andall that time Bart stayed in his cabin, not daring to go to theobservation Lounge or dining hall. He got tired of eating synthetics(oh, they were nourishing enough, but they were altogetheruninteresting) and tired of listening to the tapes the room steward gothim 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 awelcome sight when he came in to prepare him for cold-sleep. 

Bart had had the best education on Earth, but he didn't know preciselyhow the Lhari warp-drive worked. He'd been told that only a few of theLhari understood it, just as the man who flew a copter didn't need tounderstand Newton's Three Laws of Motion in order to get himself backand forth to work. 

But he knew this much; when the ship generated the frequencies whichaccelerated it beyond the speed of light, in effect the ship went into asort of fourth dimension, and came out of it a good many light-yearsaway. As far as Bart knew, no human being had ever survived warp-driveexcept in the suspended animation which they called cold-sleep. Whilethe medic was professionally reassuring him and strapping him in hisbunk, Bart wondered what humans would do with the Lhari star-drive ifthey 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 theweek 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-sleepuntil we reach the Procyon system. "

Bart wondered if the room steward had mentioned the passenger so boredwith the trip that he didn't even visit the Observation Lounge. He felttempted--he was getting awfully tired of staring at the walls. On theother hand, he wanted very much to see the other star-systems. When hepassed through them on the trip to Earth, he'd been too young to paymuch attention. 

Firmly he put the temptation aside. Better not to risk meeting otherpassengers, Tommy especially, if he decided he couldn't take theboredom. 

The needle went into his arm. He felt himself sinking into sleep, and, in sudden panic, realized that he was helpless. The ship would touchdown on three worlds, and on any of them the Lhari might have hisdescription, or his alias! He could be taken off, drugged andunconscious, and might never wake up! He tried to move, to protest, totell them he was changing his mind, but already he was unable to speak. There was a freezing moment of intense, painful cold. Then he wasfloating in what felt like waves of cosmic dust, swirling many-coloredbefore his eyes. And then there was nothing, no color, nothing at allexcept the nowhere night of sleep. 

CHAPTER FOUR

Bart felt cold. He stirred, moved his head in drowsy protest; thenmemory came flooding back, and in sudden panic he sat up, flinging outhis arms as if to ward away anyone who would lay hands on him. 

"Easy!" said a soothing voice. A Mentorian--not the same Mentorian--bentover him. "We have just entered the gravitational field of Procyonplanet 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 thecold-sleep drug suffer from minor lapses of memory. How do you feelnow?"

Bart's legs were numb and his hands tingled when he sat up; but his bodyprocesses had been slowed so much by the cold-sleep that he didn't evenfeel hungry; the synthetic jelly he'd eaten just before going to sleepwasn't even digested yet. 

When the Mentorian left for another cabin, Bart looked around, andsuddenly felt he would stifle if he stayed here another minute. Hewasn'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 DaveBriscoe. And he wanted another sight of the stars--before he went intoworry and danger. 

He went down to the Observation Lounge. 

The cosmic dust was brighter out here, and the constellations looked alittle flattened. Textbook tables came back to him. He had traveled 47light-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 measurelessvastness 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 veiledin shimmering layers of cloud, swung against the night. Past them otherstars, brighter stars, faraway stars he would never see, glimmeredthrough the pale dust. .. . 

"Hello, Dave. Been space-sick all this time? Remember me? I met youabout 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 incold-sleep, " he said. He _couldn't_ be rude again. 

"What a dull way to face a long trip!" Tommy said cheerily. "I'veenjoyed every minute of it myself. "

It was hard for Bart to realize that, for Tommy, their meeting had beensix weeks ago. It all seemed dreamlike. The closer he came to it, theless he could realize that in a few hours he'd be getting off on astrange world, with only the strange name _Raynor Three_ as a guide. Hefelt terribly alone, and having Tommy close at hand helped, even thoughTommy 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 eachwarp-drive shift. We had a day-long stopover at Sirius Eighteen, and Itook a tour of the planet. And I've spent a lot of time down here, juststar-gazing--not that it did me much good. Which one is Antares? How doyou tell it from Aldebaran? I'm always getting them mixed up. "

Bart pointed. "Aldebaran--that's the big red one there, " he said. "Thinkof the constellation Taurus as a necklace, with Aldebaran hanging fromit like a locket. Antares is much further down in the sky, in relationto the arbitrary sidereal axis, and it's a deeper red. Like a burningcoal, while Aldebaran is like a ruby--"

He broke off in mid-word, realizing that Tommy was gazing at him in amixture of triumph and consternation. Too late, Bart realized he hadbeen tricked. Studying for an exam, the year before, he had explainedthe 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'tyou tell me, fella?"

Bart felt himself start to smile, but it only stretched his mouth. Hesaid, very low, "Don't say my name out loud Tom. I'm in terribletrouble. "

"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 casesomebody 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 totread the brink of a dizzying gulf of cosmic space, and talked in lowtones while Alpha and Beta and Gamma swelled like blown-up balloons inthe port. 

Tommy listened, almost incredulous. "And you're hoping to find yourfather, with no more information than that? It's a big universe, " hesaid, waving at the gulf of stars. "The Lhari ships, according to thelittle tourist pamphlet they gave me, touch down at nine hundred andtwenty-two different stars in this galaxy!"

Bart visibly winced, and Tommy urged, "Come to Capella with me. You canstay with my family as long as you want to, and appeal to theInterplanet authority to find your father. They'd protect him againstthe Lhari, surely. You can't chase all over the galaxy playinginterplanetary spy all by yourself, Bart!"

But Briscoe had deliberately gone to his death, to give Bart the chanceto get away. He wouldn't have died to send Bart into a trap he couldeasily 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 onTommy's shoulder, grateful beyond words. But fresh horror seized him ashe remembered the horrible puddle of melted robotcab with Briscoesomewhere in the residue. _Protoplasm residue enough for two bodies. _ Hecouldn't let Tommy face that. 

"Tommy, I appreciate that, believe me. But if I did find my father andhis friends, I don't want anyone tracing me. You'd only make the dangerworse. 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 letyou 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 whateverhappens, Tommy, stay with the ship and go on to Capella. It's the onething 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. Doit--please? Just stay clear?"

Tommy reached out and caught his arm. "Okay, " he said reluctantly, "Iwill. But you be careful, " he added fiercely. "You hear me? And if Idon't hear from you in some reasonable time, I'll raise a stink fromhere to Vega!"

Bart broke away and ran. He was afraid, if he didn't, he'd break upagain. He closed the cabin door behind him, trying to calm down so thatthe Mentorian steward, coming to strap him in for deceleration, wouldn'tsee how upset he was. He was going to need all his nerve. 

 * * * * *

He went through another decontamination chamber, and finally moved, witha 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 thatlay before him, to all appearances identical with the one on Earth:sloping glass ramps, tall colorless pylons, a skyscraper terminuscrowded with men of all planets. But the sun overhead was brilliant andclear gold, the shadows sharp and violet on the spaceport floor. Behindthe confines of the spaceport he could see the ridges of tall hills andunfamiliarly colored trees. He longed to explore them, but he got a gripon his imagination, surrendering his ticket stub and false papers to theLhari and Mentorian interpreter who guarded the ramp. 

The Lhari said to the Mentorian, in the Lhari language, "Keep him forquestioning but don't tell him why. " Bart felt a cold chill icing hisspine. _This was it. _

The Mentorian said briefly, "We wish to check on the proper antibodycomponent for Aldebaran natives. There will be a delay of about thirtyminutes. Will you kindly wait in this room here?"

The room was comfortable, furnished with chairs and a vision-screen withsome colorful story moving on it, small bright figures in capes, curiousbeasts racing across an unusual veldt; but Bart paced the floorrestlessly. There were two doors in the room. Through one of them, hehad been admitted; he could see, through the glass door, the silhouetteof the Mentorian outside. The other door was opaque, and marked in largeletters:

 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 hadheard that the Lhari sun was almost 500 times as bright as Earth's. TheMentorians alone, among humans, could endure Lhari lights--he supposedthe warning was for ordinary spaceport workers. 

A sudden, rather desperate plan occurred to Bart. He didn't know howmuch light he _could_ tolerate--he'd never been on Mentor--but he _had_inherited some of his mother's tolerance for light. And blindness wouldbe better than being burned down with an energon-gun! He went hesitantlytoward the door, and pushed it open. 

His eyes exploded into pain; automatically his hands went up to shieldthem. Light, light--he had never known such cruelly glowing light. Eventhrough 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 otherdoors, glass ramps, pale Lhari figures coming and going. But for themoment he was alone in the long corridor beyond which he could see theglass 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 workwas hanging. On an impulse, Bart caught it up and flung it around hisshoulders. 

It felt cool and soft, and the hood shielded his eyes a little. The rampleading down to what he hoped was street level was terribly steep andthere were no steps. Bart eased himself over the top of the ramp and letgo. He whooshed down the slick surface on the flat of his back, feelingthe metal of the cloak heat with the friction, and came to a breathlessjarring 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 acolorless blob in the intense light. 

"You people know better than to come back here without glasses. Do youwant to be blinded, my friend?" He actually sounded kind and concerned. Bart tensed, his heart pounding. Now that he was caught, could he bluffhis 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 learnit 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 gottenaway 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?" theLhari said curiously. "Well, one thing is sure, he's Vegan or Solarianor Capellan, one of the dim-star people. If he comes through here, we'llcatch him easily enough while he's stumbling around half blind. You knowthat you shouldn't stay long. " He gestured. "Out this way--and don'tcome back without special lenses. "

Bart nodded, jerking the cloak around his shoulders, forcing himself notto 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 intopitch darkness. Only slowly did his eyes adapt and he became aware thathe 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 itunder his arm. He raised his eyes, which were adjusting to ordinarylight again, and stopped dead. 

Just across the street was a long, low, rainbow colored building. Andthe 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. Hewiped them, trying to steady himself. Had he so soon reached the end ofhis dangerous quest? Somehow he had expected it to lie in deep, darkconcealment. 

Raynor One. The existence of Raynor _One_ presupposed a Raynor _Two_ andprobably a Raynor _Three_--for all he knew, Raynors Four, Five, Six, andSixty-six! The building looked solid and real. It had evidently beenthere 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'dbe 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. Aprim-looking girl sat behind a desk--or what should have been a desk, except that it looked more like a mirror, with little sparkles oflights, different colors, in regular rows along one edge. The mirror-topitself was blue-violet and gave her skin and her violet eyes a bluishtinge. She was smooth and lacquered and glittering and she raised hereyebrows at Bart as if he were some strange form of life she hadn't seenvery often. 

"I'd--er--like to see Raynor One, " he said. 

Her dainty pointed fingernail, varnished blue, stabbed at points oflight. "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 thelittle lights. "Name, please?"

"David Briscoe. "

He had thought her perfect-painted face could not show any emotionexcept disdain, but it did. She looked at him in open, blankconsternation. She said into the vision-screen, "He calls himself DavidBriscoe. Yes, I know. Yes, sir, yes. " She raised her face, and it wascontrolled again, but not bored. "Raynor One will see you. Through thatdoor, and down to the end of the hall. "

At the end of the hallway was another door. He stepped through into asmall cubicle, and the door slid shut like a closing trap. He whirled inpanic, then subsided in foolish relief as the cubicle began to rise--itwas just an automatic elevator. 

It rose higher and higher, stopping with an abrupt jerk, and slid openinto a lighted room and office. A man sat behind a desk, watching Bartstep from the elevator. The man was very tall and very thin, and thegray eyes, and the intensity of the lights, told Bart that he was aMentorian. _Raynor One?_

Under the steady, stern gray stare, Bart felt the slow, clutching suckof fear again. Was this man a slave of the Lhari, who would turn himover to them? Or someone he could trust? His own mother had been aMentorian. 

"Who are you?" Raynor One's voice was harsh, and gave the impression ofbeing loud, though it was not. 

"David Briscoe. "

It was the wrong thing. The Mentorian's mouth was taut, forbidding. "Tryagain. 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 tellme what the Eighth Color is. "

There was a glint in the grim eyes now, though the even, stern voice didnot soften. "I never knew myself. I didn't name it Eight Colors. Maybeit's the original owner you want. "

On a sudden hope, Bart asked, "Was he, by any chance, named RupertSteele?"

Raynor One made a suspicious movement. "I can't imagine why you thinkso, " 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 Colorsa few weeks ago. And it's for sure that your ship didn't get anymessages while the Lhari were in warp-drive. You mention entirely toomany 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, staringat the Mentorian cloak. "I can think of a lot of people who might wantto know how I react to certain names, and find out if I know the wrongpeople, if they are the wrong people. What makes you think I'd admit itif I did?"

Now, Bart thought, they had reached a deadlock. Somebody had to trustsomebody. This could go on all night--parry and riposte, question andevasive answer, each of them throwing back the other's questions in averbal 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 onebefore and I never intend to again. I want to find Rupert Steele becausehe's my father!"

"Your father. And just how are you going to prove that exceptionallyinteresting statement?"

Without warning, Bart lost his temper. 

"I don't care whether I prove it or not! _You_ try proving something fora change, why don't you? If you know Rupert Steele, I don't have toprove who I am--just take a good look at me! Or so Briscoe told me--aman who called himself Briscoe, anyway. He gave me papers to travelunder 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, bendingover Raynor One angrily. 

"He sent me to find a man named Raynor Three. But the only one I reallycare about finding is my father. Now you know as much as I do, how aboutgiving _me_ some information for a change?"

He ran out of breath and stood glaring down at Raynor One, fistsclenched. Raynor One got up and said, quick, savage and quiet, "Didanyone see you come here?"

"Only the girl downstairs. "

"How did you get through the Lhari? In that?" He moved his head at theMentorian cloak. 

Bart explained briefly, and Raynor One shook his head. 

"You were lucky, " he said, "you could have been blinded. You must haveinherited flash-accommodation from the Mentorian side--Rupert Steeledidn'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 beAlpha Transshipping--is what they call a middleman outfit. Theinterplanet cargo lines transport from planet to planet within asystem--that's free competition--and the Lhari ships transport from starto star--that's a monopoly all over the galaxy. The middleman outfitsarrange for orderly and businesslike liaison between the two. RupertSteele bought into this company, a long time ago, but he left it for meto manage, until recently. "

Raynor punched a button, said to the image of the glossy girl at thedesk, "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 allabout. I don't _want_ to know: I have to do business with the Lhari. Theless I know, the less I'm apt to say to the wrong people. But I promisedThree that if you turned up, or if anyone came and asked for the EighthColor, I'd send you to him. That's all. "

He motioned Bart ungraciously to a seat, and shut his mouth firmly, asif he had already said too much. Bart sat. After a while he heard theelevator 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. Hewas as like Raynor One as Tweedledum to Tweedledee: tall, stern, asceticand grim. He wore the full uniform of a Mentorian on Lhari ships: thewhite smock of a medic, the metallic blue cloak, the low silverysandals. 

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 intoapprehension and shock. 

"It must be Steele's boy, " he said, and immediately Bart saw thedifference between the--were they brothers? For Raynor One's face, controlled and stern, had not altered all during their interview, butRaynor Three's smile was wry and kindly at once, and his voice was lowand 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'suseless. 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 andMentorians. Bart felt sick. 

"If they had the same efficiency with red tape that we humans have, he'dnever have made it this far. "

Raynor Three actually smiled. "But you can count on them for that muchinefficiency, " 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'spapers and managed to slip through. Once they landed on Earth, they hadthe Steele _names_, but by the time that cleared, you were outbound withanother set of papers. It may have confused them, because they knew_David_ Briscoe was dead--and there was just a chance you were aninnocent bystander who could raise a real row if they pulled you in. Didold Briscoe get away?"

"No, " Bart said, harshly, "he's dead. "

Raynor Three's mobile face held shocked sadness. "Two brave men, " hesaid softly, "Edmund Briscoe the father, David Briscoe the son. Rememberthe name, Bart, because I won't remember it. "

"Why not?"

Raynor Three gave him a gold-glinting, enigmatic glance. "I'm aMentorian, remember? I'm good at not remembering things. Just be glad Iremember Rupert Steele. If you'd been a few days later, I wouldn't haveremembered 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 theMentorian cloak. "Pull the hood right up over your head. Now, if we meetanyone, say a polite good afternoon in Lhari--you _can_ speakLhari?--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 toone of the Lhari. "What's going on, _rieko mori_?"

"A passenger on the ship got away without going through Decontam. He mayspread disease, so of course we have alerted all authorities, " the Lharisaid. 

As the Lhari strode past, Raynor Three grimaced. "Clever, that. Now thewhole planet will be hunting for any stranger, worrying themselves intofits 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 controlsand putting the machine in the air. "Just lean back and enjoy the trip, huh?"

Bart relaxed against the cushions, but he still felt apprehensive. Wherewas his father? If he was a fugitive from the Lhari, he might by now beat the other end of the galaxy. But if his father couldn't travel onLhari ships, and if he had been here, the chances were that he was stillsomewhere in the Procyon system. 

They flew for a long time; across low hills, patchwork agriculturaldistricts, towns, and then for a long time over water. The copter hadautomatic controls, but Raynor Three kept it on manual, and Bartwondered if the Mentorian just didn't want to talk. 

It began to descend, at last, toward a small green hill, bright in thelast gold rays on sunset. A small domelike pink bubble rose out of thehill. Raynor Three set the copter neatly down on a platform that slidshut after them, unfastened their seat belts and gave Bart a hand toclimb 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 cameon, 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 couldnot help him to relax. 

"Where is my father?" he demanded. 

Raynor Three stood looking down at him, his mobile face drawn andstrange. "I guess I can't put it off any longer, " he said softly. Thenhe 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 refusingthe 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 glasswalls were a cage closing in on him. 

"Murderer!" he flung at Raynor, and took a step toward him, his clenchedfists coming up. He'd been shoved around too long, but here he had oneof them right in front of him, and for once he'd hit back! He'd start bytaking Raynor Three apart--in small pieces! "You--you rotten murderer!"

Raynor Three made no move to defend himself. "Bart, " he saidcompassionately, "sit down and listen to me. No, I'm no murderer. I--Ishouldn't have put it that way. "

Bart's hands dropped to his sides, but he heard his voice crack withpain and grief: "I suppose you'll tell me he was a spy or a traitor andyou _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'llnever forgive myself!"

Bart's fists unclenched and he stared down at Raynor Three, shaking hishead 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 itkilled him. I could have stopped him, I should have stopped him, but howcould I? Where did I have the right to stop him, after what I didto--" 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 hewould kick it in, striking it with his two clenched fists, his wholebeing in revolt. _Dad, oh, Dad! I kept going, I thought at the end of ityou'd be here and it would all be over. But here I am at the end of itall, 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 hishead on his clenched fists, and cried. 

After a long time he raised his head and blew his nose, his face settingitself in new, hard, unaccustomed lines, slowly coming to terms with thehard, painful reality. His father was dead. His dangerous, dead-in-earnest game of escape had no happy ending of reunion with hisfather. They couldn't sit together and laugh about how scared he hadbeen. His father was _dead_, and he, Bart, was alone and in danger. Hisface looked very grim indeed, and years older than he was. 

After a long time Raynor Three opened the door quietly. "Come and havesomething 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 extrudedthemselves from the walls. Raynor unsealed hot cartons and spread themon the table, saying lightly, "Looks good--not that I can claim anycredit, I subscribe to a food service that delivers them hot bypneumatic tube. "

Bart felt sickened by the thought of eating, but when he put a politefork in the food, he discovered that he was famished and ate upeverything in sight. When they had finished, Raynor dumped the cartonsinto a disposal chute, went to a small portable bar and put a glass intohis 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-primedin the middle of a sentence. If you'd rather have a shot oftranquilizer, all right; otherwise, I prescribe that you drink what Igave you. " He gave Bart a quick, wry grin. "I really am a medic, youknow. "

Feeling like a scolded child, Bart drank. It burned his mouth, but afterit was down, he felt a sort of warm burning in his insides thatgradually spread a sense of well-being all through him. It wasn'talcohol, but whatever it was, it had quite a kick. 

"Thanks, " he muttered. "Why are you taking this trouble, Raynor? Theremust be danger--"

"Don't you know--" Raynor broke off. "Obviously, you don't. Your mothernever said much about your Mentorian family tree, I suppose? She was aRaynor. " He smiled at Bart, a little ruefully. "I won't claim akinsman'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 cancount. When I was a young man, I qualified as a medic on the Lhariships, and I've been star-hopping ever since. People call us the slavesof the Lhari--maybe we are, " he added wryly. "But I began it justbecause space is where I belong, and there's nowhere else that I've everwanted to be. And I'll take it at any price. 

"I never questioned what I was doing until a few years ago. It was yourfather who made me wonder if we Mentorians were blind and selfish--thisprivilege ought to belong to everyone, not just the Lhari. More andmore, the Lhari monopoly seemed wrong to me. But I was just a medic. Andif I involved myself in any conspiracy against the Lhari, they'd find itout in the routine psych-checking. 

"And then we worked out how it could be done. Before every trip, withself-hypnosis and self-suggestion, I erase my own memories--a sort ofartificial amnesia--so that the Lhari can't find out any more than Iwant 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--" Hisface suddenly worked, and his mouth moved without words, as if he hadrun into some powerful barrier against speech. 

It was a full minute, while Bart stared in dismay, before he found hisvoice again, saying, "So far, it was just a sort of loose network, trying to put together stray bits of information that the Lhari didn'tthink important enough to censor. 

"And then came the big breakthrough. There was a young Apprenticeastrogator named David Briscoe. He'd taken some runs in special testships, and read some extremely obscure research data from the early daysof the contact between men and Lhari, and he had a wild idea. He did thebravest thing anyone has ever done. He stripped himself of allidentifying data--so that if he died, no one would be in trouble withthe 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 yousee, Bart?" He leaned forward, urgently. 

"_It's all a fake!_ The Lhari have just been saying that to justifytheir refusal to give us the secret of the catalyst that generates thewarp-drive frequencies! Such a simple lie, and it's worked for all theseyears!"

 * * * * *

"A Mentorian found him and didn't have the heart to turn him over to theLhari. So he was smuggled clear again. But when that Mentorian underwentthe routine brain-checks at the end of the voyage, the Lhari found outwhat had happened. They didn't know Briscoe's name, but they wrung thatMentorian out like a wet dishcloth and got a description that was asgood as fingerprints. They tracked down young Briscoe and killed him. They killed the first man he'd talked to. They killed the second. Thethird 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 wasdead, and old Briscoe had only one thought in his mind--to make sure hedidn't die for nothing. So he took your father's papers, knowing theywere as good as a death warrant, slipped away and boarded a Lhari shipthat led roundabout to stars where the message hadn't reached yet. Heled them a good chase. Did he die or did they track him down and killhim?" Bart bowed his head and told the story. 

"Meanwhile, " Raynor Three continued, "your father came to me, knowing Iwas sympathetic, knowing I was a Lhari-trained surgeon. He had just onethought in his mind: to do, again, what David Briscoe had done, and makesure the news got out this time. He cooked up a plan that was evenbraver and more desperate. He decided to sign on a Lhari ship as amember of the crew. "

"As a Mentorian?" Bart asked, but something cold, like ice watertrickling down his back, told him this was not what Raynor meant. "Thebrainwashing--"

"No, " said Raynor, "not as a Mentorian; he couldn't have escaped thepsych-checking. _As a Lhari. _"

Bart gasped. "How--"

"Men and Lhari are very much alike, " Raynor Three said. "A few smallthings--skin color, the shape of the ears, the hands and claws--keephumans 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, theyhave their reasons. Physiologically, the Lhari are--well, _humanoid_, ifyou 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 minorplastic and facial surgery, he could pass as a Lhari. And finally I gavein, and did the surgery--"

"And it killed him!"

"Not really. It was a completely unforeseeable thing--a blood clot brokeloose in a vein, and lodged in his brain. He was dead in seconds. Itcould have happened at any time, " he said, "yet I feel responsible, eventhough I keep telling myself I'm not. And I'll help you as much as Ican--for his sake, and for your mother's. The Lhari don't watch me tooclosely--they figure that anything I do they'll catch in thebrainwashing. But I'm still one step ahead of them, as long as I canerase 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'tknow 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 canfollow them inside a star-system, but then they pop into warp-drive, andwe 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 thatafter a certain number of runs in our part of the galaxy, ships take offin the direction of Antares. There's a ship, due to come in here inabout ten days, called the _Swiftwing_, which is just about due to makethe Antares run. Captain Steele had managed to arrange--I don't knowhow, and I don't want to know how--for a vacancy on that ship, andsomehow he got credentials. You see, it's a very good spy system, anetwork between the stars, but the weak link is this: everything, everymessage, every man, has to travel back and forth by the Lhari shipsthemselves. "

He rose, shaking it all off impatiently. "Well, it's finished now. Yourfather is dead. What are you going to do? If you want to go back toVega, you can probably convince the Lhari you're just an innocentbystander. They _don't_ hurt bystanders or children, Bart. They aren'tbad people. They're just protecting their business monopoly. 

"The safest way to handle it would be this: let me erase your memoriesof what I've told you tonight. Then just let the Lhari capture you. Theywon't kill you. They'll just give you a light psych-check. When theyfind out you don't know anything, they'll send you back to Vega, and youcan spend the rest of your life in peace, running Vega Interplanet andEight 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 onwhere Dad left off!"

"It won't be easy, and it could be dangerous, " Raynor Three said, "butthere's nothing else to be done. We had the arrangements all made; andnow somebody's got to take the dangerous risk of calling them off. Areyou game for a little plastic surgery--just enough to change your looksagain, with new forged papers? You can't go by the _Swiftwing_--itdoesn'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 toodangerous. " But his gold eyes glinted. 

"Why not? I speak Lhari better than Dad ever did. And my eyes can standLhari lights. You said yourself, it's going to be a dangerous job justcalling off all the arrangements. So let's _not_ call them off. Just letme take Dad's place!"

"Bart, you're only a boy--"

"What was Dave Briscoe? No, Raynor. Dad left me a lot more than VegaInterplanet, and you know it. I'll finish what he started, and thenmaybe I'll begin to deserve what he left me. "

Raynor Three gripped Bart's hand. He said, in a voice that shook, "Allright, Bart. You're your father's son. I can't say more than that. Ihaven't any right to stop you. "

CHAPTER SEVEN

"All right, Bart, today we'll let you look at yourself, " Raynor Threesaid. 

Bart smiled under the muffling layers of bandage around his face. Hishands were bandaged, too, and he had not been permitted to look in amirror. But the transition had been surprisingly painless--or perhapshis sense of well-being had been due to Raynor Three slipping him somedrug. 

He'd been given injections of a chemical that would change the color ofhis skin; there had been minor operations on his face, his hands, hisfeet. 

"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 themuscle of the arch. You're using a different set of muscles when youwalk; 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 saidimpatiently. 

"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 haveaffected your hearing or your breathing. Now, listen, Bart: I'm going totake 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 atthe bandages. 

"Move each finger as I touch it. " Bart obeyed, and Raynor saidneutrally, "Good. Now, take a deep breath and then open your eyes. "

Impatiently Bart flicked his lids open. In spite of the warning, hisbreath went out in a harsh, jolting gasp. His hands lay on the tablebefore him--but they were not his hands. 

The narrow, long fingers were pearl-gray, tipped with whitish-pink clawsthat curved out over the tips. Nervously Bart moved one finger, and thelong 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 youmake--the claws?"

"Quite simple, really, " Raynor beamed. "I injected protein compoundsinto the nail matrix, which speeded up nail growth terrifically, andthen, as they grew, shaped them. Joining on those tiny muscles for theretracting mechanism was the tricky part though. "

Bart was moving his hands experimentally. Once over the shock, they feltquite normal. The claws didn't get in his way half so much as he'dexpected when he picked up a pen that lay beside him and, with the blunttip, made a few of the strange-looking dots and wedges that were theLhari alphabet. 

"Practice writing this, " said Raynor Three, and laid a plastic-encasedfolder 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 ofAstrogator, First Class, Bartol. 

"That's your name now, the name your father would have used. Memorizeit, get used to the sound of it, practice writing it. Don't worry toomuch about the rating; it's an elementary one, what we'd call Apprenticerating, and I have a training tape for you anyhow. My brother got holdof 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. "Italmost threw you when I showed you your hands. "

He made Bart walk around some more briefly, slowly, he unwound thebandages; then turned and picked up a mirror at the bottom of hismedic'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 anunnerving 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 enoughto make his eyes look long, narrow and slanted. His nostrils were mereslits, 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-cappedthe front ones, " Raynor Three told him. "So if you get a toothacheyou're out of luck--you won't dare go to a Lhari dentist. I could havedone more, but it would have made you look too freakish when we changedyou 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, whowill do it?_ The cold knot of fear, never wholly absent, moved in himagain. 

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 toAntares, they'll tell you all you need to know. "

He lifted Bart's oddly clawed hands. "I warned you, remember--the changeisn't completely reversible. Your hands will always look--strange. Thefingers had to be lengthened, for instance. I wanted to make you as safeas 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 itas often as you can, then destroy it--_completely_--before you leavehere. The _Swiftwing_ is due in port three days from now, and they stayhere a week. I don't know how we'll manage it, but I'll guaranteethere'll be a vacancy of one Astrogator, First Class, on that ship. " Herose. "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'tknow you from any other Lhari. Understand? From here on, you're on yourown, Bart. "

He held out his hand. "This is the rough part, Son. " His face movedstrangely. "I'm part of this network between the stars, but I don't knowwhat I've done before, and I'll never know how it comes out. It's funnyto stand here and look at you and realize that I won't even rememberyou. " The gold-glinted eyes blinked rapidly. "Goodbye, Bart. And--goodluck, Son. "

Bart took his hand, deeply moved, with the strange sense that this wasanother death--a worse one than Briscoe's. He tried to speak andcouldn't. 

"Well--" Raynor's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Ouch! Careful withthose 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 feltalone before. 

 * * * * *

He had to wait six days, and they felt like six eternities. He playedthe training tape over and over. With his Academy background, it wasn'tnearly so difficult as he'd feared. He read and reread the set of papersidentifying 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 ahuman, spent part of the day removing all traces of his presence fromRaynor's home, burned the training tape, and finally got into the silky, silvery tights and cloak that Raynor had provided. He could use hishands now as if they belonged to him; he even found the claws handy anduseful. He could write his signature, and copy out instructions from thetraining tape, without a moment's hesitation. 

Toward dusk, a young Lhari slipped unobserved out of Raynor's house andhiked unnoticed to the edges of a small city nearby, where he mingledwith the crowd and hired a skycab from an unobservant human driver totake 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 ofthe Lhari accent. Raynor had told him that only a few of the Lhari hadthat characteristic sibilant "r" and "s" and warned him against tryingto imitate it. _Just speak naturally; there are dialects of Lhari, justas there are dialects of the different human languages, and they allsound different in Universal anyhow. _ "Just looking around some. "

The skycab driver frowned and looked down at his controls, and Bart feltcuriously snubbed. Then he remembered. He himself had little to say tothe Lhari when they spoke to him. 

_He was an alien, a monster. He couldn't expect to be treated like ahuman being any more. _

When the skycab let him off before the spaceport, it felt strange to seehow the crowds edged away from him as he made a way through them. Hecaught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirror-ramps, a tall thinstrange form in a metallic cloak, head crested with feathery white, andfelt overwhelmingly homesick for his own familiar face. 

He was beginning to feel hungry, and realized that he could not go intoan ordinary restaurant without attracting attention. There wererefreshment stands all over the spaceport, and he briefly consideredgetting a snack at one of these. 

No, that was just putting it off. The time had to come when he must facehis fear and test his disguise among the Lhari themselves. Reviewing hisknowledge of the construction of spaceports, he remembered that one sidewas the terminal, where humans and visitors and passengers were freelyadmitted; the other side, for Lhari and their Mentorian employees only, contained--along with business offices of many sorts--a sort of arcadewith amusement centers, shops and restaurants catering to the personnelof the Lhari ships. With nine or ten ships docking every day, Raynor hadassured him that a strange Lhari face would be lost in the crowds veryeasily. 

He went to one of the doors marked DANGER, LHARI LIGHTS BEYOND, andpassed through the glaring corridor of offices and storage-warehouses, finally coming out into a sort of wide mall. The lights were fierce, buthe could endure them without trouble now, though his head ached faintly. Raynor, testing his light tolerance, had assured him that he could endureanything 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-frontedplace with a sign lettered largely, in black letters, a Lhari phrasemeaning roughly HOME AWAY FROM HOME: MEALS SERVED, SPACEMEN WELCOME, REASONABLE. 

Behind him a voice said in Lhari, "Tell me, does that sign mean what itsays? Or is this one of those traps for separating the unwary spacemanfrom 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, findinghimself face to face with a young Lhari in the unadorned cloak of aspaceman without official rank. He knew the Lhari was young because hiscrest was still white. 

The young Lhari extended his claws in the closed-fist, hidden-clawgesture of Lhari greeting. "Shall we take a chance? Ringg son of Rahangreets 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. "Youreally get around, don't you? Shall we sit here?"

They sat on triangular chairs at a three-cornered table. Bart waited forRingg to order, and ordered what he did. When it came, it was a sort ofegg-and-fish casserole which Bart found extremely tasty, and he dug intoit with pleasure. Allowing for the claws, Lhari table manners were notso much different from human--_and remember, their customs differ asmuch as ours do. If you do something differently, they'll just thinkyou'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 toknow how you found it out. Captain Vorongil said that anyone who talkedabout it would be sent to Kleeto for three cycles. But what happened toyou? Miss your ship?"

"No, I've just been laying off--traveling, sight-seeing, bummingaround, " Bart said. "But I'm tired of it, and now I'd like to sign outagain. "

"Well, we could use another man. This is the long run we're making, outto 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 theport about Klanerol jumping ship, or whatever happened to him, we'll allhave to walk wide of his temper. "

Bart was beginning to relax a little; Ringg apparently accepted himwithout scrutiny. At this close range Ringg did not seem a monster, butjust a young fellow like himself, hearty, good-natured--in fact, notunlike Tommy. 

Bart chased the thought away as soon as it sneaked into his brain--oneof those _things_, like _Tommy_? Then, rather grimly, he remindedhimself, _I'm one of those things_. He said irritably, "So how do Iaccount for asking your captain for the place?"

Ringg cocked his fluffy crest to one side. "I know, " he said, "_I_ toldyou. I'll say you're an old friend of mine. You don't know whatVorongil's like when he gets mad. But what he doesn't know, he won'tshout about. " He shoved back the triangular chair. "Who _did_ tell you, anyway?"

This was the first real hurdle, and Bart's brain raced desperately, butRingg was not listening for an answer. "I suppose somebody gossiped, orone of those fool Mentorians picked it up. Got your papers? Whatrating?"

"Astrogator first class. "

"Klanerol was second, but you can't have everything, I suppose. " Ringgled the way through the arcades, out across a guarded sector, passinghalf a dozen of the huge ships lying in their pits. Finally Ringgstopped and pointed. "This is the old hulk. "

Bart had traveled only in Lhari passenger ships, which were new andfresh and sleek. This ship was enormous, ovoid like the egg of somespace-monster, the sides dented and discolored, thin films of chemicaldiscoloration lying over the glassy metallic hull. 

Bart followed Ringg. This was real, it was happening. He was signing outfor his first interstellar cruise on one of the Lhari ships. Not aMentorian assistant, half-trusted, half-tolerated, but one of the crewthemselves. _If I'm lucky_, he reminded himself grimly. 

There was Lhari, in the black-banded officer's cloak, at the doorway. Heglanced at Ringg's papers. 

"Friend of mine, " Ringg said, and Bart proffered his folder. The Lharigave 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 withcargo not loaded, do you?"

They seemed casual and normal, and Bart's confidence was growing. Theyhad accepted him as one of themselves. But the great ordeal still laybefore him--an interview with the Lhari captain. And the idea had Bartsweating scared. 

The corridors and decks seemed larger, wider, more spacious, butshabbier than on the clean, bright, commercial passenger decks Bart hadseen. Dark-lensed men were rolling bales of cargo along on wheeleddollies. The corridors seemed endless. More to hear the sound of his ownvoice, 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 andinteresting. But what it means is just that I go all over the ship inchby inch, and when I finish, start all over again at the other end. Mostof what I do is just boss around the maintenance crews and snarl at themabout spots of rust on the paint. "

They got into a small round elevator and Ringg punched buttons; it beganto rise, slowly and creakily, toward the top. "This, for instance, "Ringg said. "I've been yelling for a new cable for six months. " Heturned. "Take it easy, Bartol; don't let Vorongil scare you. He likes tohear the sound of his own voice, but we'd all walk out the lock withoutspacesuits for him. "

The elevator slid to a stop. The sign in Lhari letters said _Level ofAdministration--Officers' Deck_. Ringg pushed at a door and said, "Captain Vorongil?"

"I thought you were on leave, " said a Lhari voice, deeper and slowerthan most. "What are you doing, back here more than ten millisecondsbefore strap-in checks?"

Ringg stepped back for Bart to go inside. The small cabin, with anelliptical bunk slung from the ceiling and a triangular table, wasdwarfed by a tall, thin Lhari, in a cloak with four of the black bandsthat seemed to denote rank among them. He had a deeply lined face with alacework of tiny wrinkles around the slanted eyes. His crest was not thehigh, fluffy white of a young Lhari, but broken short near the scalp, grayish pink showing through, the little feathery ends yellowed withage. He growled, "Come in then, don't stand there. I suppose Ringg'stold 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 hispapers. 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 toldme 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 huntthe planet over--or run the long haul with the drive-room watches shortby one man. "

"Well, well, you're right, " Vorongil growled. He glared at Bart. "On thelast planet, one of our men disappeared. Jumped ship!" The creasesaround 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 beenhurt, killed, kidnaped. "

Ringg said, "Who'd dare? It would be reported. "

Bart knew, with a cold chill, that the missing Klanerol had not simplygone "on the drift. " No Lhari port would ever see Klanerol, Second ClassAstrogator, again. 

"Bartol, " mused the captain, riffling the forged papers. "Served on thePolaris 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 dosystem programming? Good. Rating in Second Galaxy mathematics?"

He nodded, hauled out a sheet of thin, wax-coated fabric and his clawsmade rapid imprints in the surface. He passed it to Bart, pointed. Barthesitated, and Vorongil said impatiently, "Standard agreement, no hiddenclauses. Put your mark on it, feathertop. "

Bart realized it was something like a fingerprint they wanted. _You'llpass 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 BaldOne was in a good temper. I'm going to the port and celebrate, not thatthis 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, " Ringgsaid. "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 whatto do next. 

A Lhari, as short and fat as a Lhari could possibly be and still be aLhari, came or rather waddled out of the captain's office. He saw Bartoland called, "Are you the new First Class? I'm Rugel, coordinator. "

Rugel had a huge cleft darkish scar across his lip, and there were twobands on his cloak. He was completely bald, and he puffed when hewalked. "Vorongil asked me to show you around. You'll share quarterswith Ringg--no sense shifting another man. Come down and see the chartrooms--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 onthe drift, " he confirmed. 

Rugel took him down to the drive rooms, and here for a moment, in wonderand awe, Bart almost forgot his disguise. The old Lhari led him to thehuge computer which filled one wall of the room, and Bart was smittenwith the universality of mathematics. Here was something he _knew_ hecould handle. 

He could do this programming, easily enough. But as he stood before thebanks of complex, yet beautifully familiar levers, the sheer exquisitecomplexity of it overcame him. To compute the movements of thousands ofstars, all moving at different speeds in different directions in thevast swirling directionless chaos of the Universe--and yet to be surethat every separate movement would come out to within a quarter of amile! It was something that no finite brain--man or Lhari--could everaccomplish, yet their limited brains had built these computers that_could_ do it. 

Rugel watched him, laughing softly. "Well, you'll have enough time downhere. I like to have youngsters who are still in the middle of a loveaffair 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 ofthe oval bunks slung at opposite ends, a small table between them, anddrawers filled with pamphlets and manuals and maps. Furtively, ashamedof himself, yet driven by necessity, Bart searched Ringg's belongings, wanting to get some idea of what possessions he ought to own. He lookedaround the shower and toilet facilities with extra care--this wassomething he _couldn't_ slip up on and be considered even halfwaynormal. He was afraid Ringg would come in, and see him staring curiouslyat 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. Hewas not afraid of being unable to handle his work. What he feared wassomething subtler--that the small items of everyday living, something assimple as a nail file, would betray him. 

On his way he looked into the Recreation Lounge, filled with comfortableseats, vision-screens, and what looked like simple pinball machines andmechanical games of skill. There were also stacks of tapereels andheadsets for listening, not unlike those humans used. Bart feltfascinated, and wanted to explore, but decided he could do that later. 

Somehow he took the wrong turn coming out of the Recreation Lounge, andwent through a door where the sudden dimming of lights told him he wasin Mentorian quarters. The sudden darkness made him stumble, thrust outhis 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 foundhimself looking down, as his eyes adjusted to the new light level, at agirl. 

She was small and slight, in a metallic blue cloak that swept out, likewings, around her thin shoulders; the hood framed a small, kittenlikeface. She was a Mentorian, and she was human, and Bart's eyes restedwith comfort on her face; she, on the other hand, was looking up withanxiety and uneasy distrust. _That's right--I'm a Lhari, a nonhumanfreak!_

"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 werelaid 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 aLhari--chatting casually with a Mentorian. With a wistful glance at thepretty girl, he said a stiff "Thank you" and went down the ramp she hadindicated. He felt horribly lonely. Being a freak wasn't going to bemuch fun. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

He saw the girl again next day, when they checked in for blastoff. Shewas seated at a small desk, triangular like so much of the Lharifurniture, 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 redpencil. 

"Bartol, " she said aloud. "Is that how you pronounce it?" She made smallscribbles in a sort of shorthand with the red pencil, then made othermarks with the black one in Lhari; he supposed the red marks were herown private memoranda, unreadable by the Lhari. 

"Next, please. " She handed a cup of the greenish stuff to Ringg, behindhim. 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 inbefore the computer. "Make sure you check all dials at null, " hereminded him, and Bart felt a last surge of panic. 

This was his first cruise, except for practice runs at the Academy! Yethis rating called him an experienced man on the Polaris run. He'd hadthe 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 hewas doing. 

It calmed him to make the routine check of his dials. 

"Strapdown check, " said a Lhari with a yellowed crest and a raspingvoice. "New man, eh?" He gave Bart's straps perfunctory tugs atshoulders 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 voicesounded 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 herup then. "

He touched some controls. The humming grew. Then, swift, hard andcrushing, weight mashed Bart against his couch. 

"Position!" Vorongil's voice sounded harsh, and Bart fought the crushingweight of it. Even his eyeballs ached as he struggled to turn the tinyeye muscles from dial to dial, and his voice was a dim croak: "Fourteenseven 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, thestruggle, he felt as if he were floating. He managed a long, luxuriousbreath. He _could_ handle it. He knew what he was doing. 

_He was an Astrogator. .. . _

Later, when Acceleration One had reached its apex and the artificialgravity made the ship a place of comfort again, he went down to thedining hall with Ringg and met the crew of the _Swiftwing_. There weretwelve officers and twelve crewmen of various ratings like himself andRingg, but there seemed to be little social division between them, asthere would have been on a human ship; officers and crew joked andargued 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. Itseemed 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 whishingsound, shutters opened, the light of Procyon Alpha flooded them and helooked out through a great viewport into bottomless space. 

Procyon Alpha, Beta and Gamma hung at full, rings gently tilted. Beyondthem the stars burned, flaming through the shimmers of cosmic dust. Thecolors, the never-ending colors of space!

And he stood here, in a room full of monsters--_he was one of themonsters_--

"Which one of the planets was it we stopped on?" Rugel asked. "I can'ttell '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 theycall it Alpha. "

"It's their planet, " said Rugel. "I guess they can call it what theywant to. How about another game?"

Resolutely, Bart turned his back on the bewitching colors, and bent overthe pinball machine. 

 * * * * *

The first week in space was a nightmare of strain. He welcomed the hourson watch in the drive room; there alone he was sure of what he wasdoing. Everywhere else in the ship he was perpetually scared, perpetually on tiptoe, perpetually afraid of making some small andstupid mistake. Once he actually called Aldebaran a red star, but Rugeleither did not hear the slip or thought he was repeating what one of theMentorians--there were two aboard besides the girl--had said. 

The absence of color from speech and life was the hardest thing to getused to. Every star in the manual was listed by light-frequency waves, to be checked against a photometer for a specific reading, and it almostdrove Bart mad to go through the ritual when the Mentorians were offduty and could not call off the color and the equivalent frequency typefor him. Yet he did not dare skip a single step, or someone might haveguessed that he could _see_ the difference between a yellow and a greenstar before checking them. 

The Academy ships had had the traditional human signal system offlashing red lights. Bart was stretched taut all the time, listening forthe small codelike buzzers and ticks that warned him of filled tanks, leads in need of servicing, answers ready. Ringg's metal-fatiguestesting kit was a bewildering muddle of boxes, meters, rods andearphones, each buzzing and clicking its characteristic warning. 

At first he felt stretched to capacity every waking moment, his memoryaching with a million details, and lay awake nights thinking his mindwould 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 habitswere firmly in place, and he found himself eating, sleeping and workingin a settled routine. 

He belonged to the _Swiftwing_ now. 

Procyon was almost lost in the viewports when a sort of upswept tempobegan to run through the ship, an undercurrent of increased activity. Cargo was checked, inventoried and strapped in. Ringg was given fourextra men to help him, made an extra tour of the ship, and came backbuzzing like a frantic cricket. Bart's computers told him they wereforging toward the sidereal location assigned for the first of thewarp-drive shifts, which would take them some fifteen light-years towardAldebaran. 

On the final watch before the warp-drive shift, the medical officer camearound and relieved the Mentorians from duty. Bart watched them go, witha curious, cold, crawling apprehension. Even the Mentorians, trusted bythe Lhari--even these were put into cold-sleep! Fear grabbed hisinsides. 

_No human had ever survived the shift into warp-drive_, the Lhari said. Briscoe, his father, Raynor Three--they thought they had proved that theLhari lied. If they were right, if it was a Lhari trick to reinforcetheir stranglehold on the human worlds and keep the warp-drive forthemselves, then Bart had nothing to fear. But he was afraid. 

Why did the Mentorians endure this, never quite trusted, isolated amongaliens?

Raynor Three had said, _Because I belong in space, because I'm neverhappy anywhere else_. Bart looked out the viewport at the swirl and burnof the colors there. Now that he could never speak of the colors, itseemed he had never been so wholly and wistfully aware of them. Theysymbolized 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 away to keep them alive through warp, " he said. "My Mentorian assistantcould 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 intensityfaster than I can plot them on the photometer!"

Bart felt goosebumps break out on his skin. Rugel spoke as if thecertain death of humans, Mentorians, was a fact. Didn't the Lharithemselves 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 hisinstruments to exact position and time, saw the colors of each starshift strangely, moment by moment. The red stars seemed hard to see. Theorange-yellow ones burned suddenly like flame; the green ones seemedgolden, the blue ones almost green. Dimly, he remembered the old storyof a "red shift" in the lights of approaching stars, but here he saw itpure, a sight no human eyes had ever seen. A sight that _no_ eyes hadseen, 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, scarredLhari could read his fear. Rugel said through a wheeze, "No matter howold you get, Bartol, you're still scared when you make a warp-shift. Butrelax, computers don't make mistakes. "

"Catalyst, " Vorongil snapped, "Ready--_shift!_"

At first there was no change; then Bart realized that the stars, throughthe viewport, had altered abruptly in size and shade and color. Theywere not sparks but strange streaks, like comets, crossing andrecrossing long tails that grew, longer and longer, moment by moment. The dark night of space was filled with a crisscrossing blaze. They weremoving faster than light, they saw the light left by the moving Universeas each star hurled in its own invisible orbit, while they toreincredibly through it, faster than light itself. .. . 

Bart felt a curious, tingling discomfort, deep in his flesh; almost anitching, 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 knowit, but a strange eerie limbo, the star-tracks lengthening, shiftingcolor until they filled the whole viewport with shimmering, gray, recrossing light. The unbelievable reaction of warp-drive thrust themthrough space faster than the lights of the surrounding stars, fasterthan 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 oflight, went into a single vast blur. Dimly Bart saw old Rugel slumpforward, moaning softly; saw the old Lhari pillow his bald head on hisveined arms. Then darkness took him; and thinking it was death, Bartfelt only numb, regretful failure. _I've failed, we'll always fail. TheLhari 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'tyou 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'tadmit he can't take it--but one idiot on a watch is enough! Some peoplejust feel as if the bottom's dropped out of the ship, and that's allthere is to it. "

Bart hauled his head upright, fighting a surge of stinging nausea. Hisbones 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 Rugelto his cabin?"

Bart struggled to his feet, and found that when he was upright he feltbetter. "Wow!" he muttered, then clamped his mouth shut. He was supposedto 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 whilewe hit peak warp-drive. Feels longer, so they tell me, sometimes--time'sfunny, 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 wasmoaning, half insensible. "Catch hold of his feet, Bartol. Here--easehim out of his chair. No sense bothering the medics this time. Think youcan manage to help me carry him down to the deck?"

"Sure, " Bart said, finding his feet and his voice. He felt better asthey moved along the hallway, the limp, muttering form of the old Lhariinsensible in their arms. They reached the officer's deck, got Rugelinto his cabin and into his bunk, hauled off his cloak and boots. Ringgstood 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 Rugelfeel as if he wasn't good for much--to order him into his bunk and makehim take dope like a Mentorian for every warp-shift. So we have this togo through at every jump!" He sounded cross and disgusted, but there wasa rough, boyish gentleness as he hauled the blanket over the bald oldLhari. He looked up, almost shyly. 

"Thanks for helping me with Old Baldy. We usually try to get him outbefore Vorongil officially takes notice. Of course, he sort of keeps hisback turned, " Ringg said, and they laughed together as they turned backto 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 beenlying all along, the vicious lie that maintained their strangleholdmonopoly of star-travel. He was their enemy again, the spy within theirgates, like Briscoe, to be hunted down and killed, but to bring themessage, loud and clear, to everyone: _The Lhari lied! The stars canbelong to us all!_

When he got back to the drive room, he saw through the viewport that theblur had vanished, the star-trails were clear, distinct again, theircomet-tails shortening by the moment, their colors more distinct. 

The Lhari were waiting, a few poised over their instruments, a few morestanding at the quartz window watching the star-trails, some squirmingand scratching and grousing about "space fleas"--the characteristicitching reaction that seemed to be deep down inside the bones. 

Bart checked his panels, noted the time when they were due to snap backinto normal space, and went to stand by the viewport. The stars werereappearing, seeming to steady and blaze out in cloudy splendor throughthe bright dust. They burned in great streamers of flame, and for themoment he forgot his mission again, lost in the beauty of the fierylights. 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 boardfeels that way, a little, only he won't admit it. " His slanted gray eyeslooked quickly at Bart and away. 

"I guess we're almost down to L-point. Better check the panel and reportnulls, so medic can wake up the Mentorians. "

 * * * * *

The _Swiftwing_ moved on between the stars. Aldebaran loomed, then fadedin the viewports; another shift jumped them to a star whose human nameBart did not know. Shift followed shift, spaceport followed spaceport, sun followed sun; men lived on most of these worlds, and on each of thema Lhari spaceport rose, alien and arrogant. And on each world men lookedat Lhari with resentful eyes, cursing the race who kept the stars fortheir own. 

Cargo amassed in the holds of the _Swiftwing_, from worlds beyond alldreams of strangeness. Bart grew, not bored, but hardened to theincredible. For days at a time, no word of human speech crossed hismind. 

The blackout at peak of each warp-shift persisted. Vorongil had givenhim permission to report off duty, but since the blackouts did notimpair his efficiency, Bart had refused. Rugel told him that this wasthe 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'sscarred old mouth spread in a thin smile. 

"Maybe there's no such thing as a limiting speed. Someday we'll reachtrue simultaneity--enter warp, and come out just where we want to be, atthe same time. Just a split-second interval. That will be realtransmission. "

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 tokeep on hating the Lhari. 

There came a day when he came on watch to see drawn, worried faces; andwhen Ringg came into the drive room they threw their levers on_automatic_ and crowded around him, their crests bobbing in question anddismay. Vorongil seemed to emit sparks as he barked at Ringg, "You foundit?"

"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 forrepairs. How much time do we have, Ringg?"

"I give it thirty hours, " Ringg said briefly, and Vorongil gave a longshrill whistle. "Bartol, what's the closest listed spaceport?"

Bart dived for handbooks, manuals, comparative tables of position, andstarted programming information. The crew drifted toward him, and by thetime he finished feeding in the coded information, a row three-deep ofLhari surrounded him, including all the officers. Vorongil was right athis shoulder when Bart slipped on his earphones and started decoding thepunched 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 deepwith lines. He turned to Ramillis, head of Maintenance. "Do we needspare parts? Or just general repairs?"

"Just repairs, sir. We have plenty of shielding metal. It's a long jobto get through the hulls, but there's nothing we can't fix. "

Vorongil flexed his clawed hands nervously, stretching and retractingthem. "Ringg, you're the fatigue expert. I'll take your word for it. Canwe make thirty hours?"

Ringg looked pale and there was none of his usual boyish nonsense whenhe said, "Captain, I swear I wouldn't risk Cottman. You know whatcrystallization's like, sir. We can't get through that hull lining torepair it in space, if it _does_ go before we land. We wouldn't have thechance of a hydrogen atom in a tank of halogens. "

Vorongil's slanted eyebrows made a single unbroken line. "That's theword then. Bartol, find us the closest star with a planet--spaceport ornot. "

Bart's hands were shaking with sudden fear. He checked each digit oftheir present position, fed it into the computer, waited, finally wethis lips and plunged, taking the strip from a computer. 

"This small star, called Meristem. It's a--" he bit his lip, hard; hehad almost said _green_--"type Q, two planets with atmosphere withintolerable 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 andMentorian 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 theSecond Galaxy Federation, but was listed as unexplored. 

Vorongil scowled. "Well, we can claim necessity, " he said. "It's onlyeight hours away, and Cottman's thirty. Bartol, plot us a warp-driveshift that will land us in that system, and on the inner of the twoplanets, within nine hours. If it's a type Q star, that means dimillumination, and no spaceport mercury-vapor installations. We'll needas much sunlight as we can get. "

It was the first time that Bart, unaided, had had the responsibility ofplotting a warp-drive shift. He checked the coordinates of the smallgreen star three times before passing them along to Vorongil. Even so, when they went into Acceleration Two, he felt stinging fear. _If Iplotted wrong, we could shift into that crazy space and come outbillions of miles away. .. . _

But when the stars steadied and took on their own colors, the blaze of asmall green sun was steady in the viewport. 

"Meristem, " Vorongil said, taking the controls himself. "Let's hope theplace is really uninhabited and that catalogue's up to date, lads. Itwouldn't be any fun to burn up some harmless village, or get shot at bybarbarians--and we're setting down with no control-tower signals and nospaceport repair crews. So let's hope our luck holds out for a whileyet. "

Bart, feeling the minute, unsteady trembling somewhere in theship--_Imagination_, he told himself, _you can't feel metal-fatiguesomewhere in the hull lining_--echoed the wish. He did not know that hehad already had the best luck of his unique voyage, or realize thefantastic 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 nothingto do, stood around in the recreation rooms, tried to play games, cursedthe heat and the dreary dimness through the viewports, and twitched atthe boiler-factory racket from the holds. 

Toward the end of the third day, the biologist reported air, water andgravity well within tolerable limits, and Captain Vorongil issuedpermission for anyone who liked, to go outside and have a look around. 

Bart had a sort of ship-induced claustrophobia. It was good to feelsolid ground under his feet and the rays of a sun, even a green sun, onhis back. Even more, it was good to get away from the constant presenceof his shipmates. During this enforced idleness, their presenceoppressed him unendurably--so many tall forms, gray skins, featherycrests. He was always alone; for a change, he felt that he'd like to bealone without Lhari all around him. 

But as he moved away from the ship, Ringg dropped out of the hatchwayand hailed him. "Where are you going?"

"Just for a walk. "

Ringg drew a deep breath of weariness. "That sounds good. Mind if I comealong?"

Bart did, but all he could say was, "If you like. "

"How about let's get some food from the rations clerk, and do someexploring?"

The sun overhead was a clear greenish-gold, the sky strewn with softpale 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 knowthat Mentorian--the young one, the medic's assistant?"

"I've seen her. Her name's Meta, I think. " Suddenly, Bart wished theMentorian girl were with him here. It would be nice to hear a humanvoice. 

"Oh, is it a female? Mentorians all look alike to me, " Ringg said, whileBart controlled his face with an effort. "Be that as it may, she savedme from having the same thing happen. I was just going to lean against astrip of sheet metal when she _screamed_ at me. Do you think they canreally _see_ heat vibrations? She called it _red_-hot. "

They had reached a line of tall cliffs, where a steep rock-fall dividedoff the plain from the edge of the mountains. A few slender, drooping, gold-leaved trees bent graceful branches over a pool. Bart stoodfascinated by the play of green sunlight on the emerald ripples, butRingg flung himself down full length on the soft grass and sighedcomfortably. "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 toexplore 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 anythingshort of an armor-plated saurian. "

Bart shuddered. As part of uniform, he, too, had been issued one of theenergon-rays; but he had never used it and didn't intend to. "Just thesame, I'd rather stay out here in the sun. "

"It's better than vitamin lamps, " Ringg admitted, "even if it's not verybright. "

Bart wondered, suddenly and worriedly, about the effects of greensunburn on his chemically altered skin tone. 

"Well, let's enjoy it while we can, " Ringg said, "because it seems to beclouding over. I wouldn't be surprised if it rained. " He yawned. "I'mgetting bored with this voyage. And yet I don't want it to end, becausethen I'll have to fight it out all over again with my family. My fatherowns a hotel, and he wants me in the family business, not five hundredlight-years away. None of our family have ever been spacemen before, " heexplained, "and they don't understand that living on one planet woulddrive me out of my mind. " He sighed. "How did you explain it to yourpeople--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 saidslowly, Ringg's story had touched him; he had never realized quite sofully how much alike the two races were, how human the Lhari problemsand 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 wordsvery carefully. "My father owned a fleet of interplanetary ships. "

"But you wanted the real thing, deep space, the stars, " Ringg said. "Howdid he feel about that?"

"He would have understood, " Bart said, unable to keep emotion out of hisvoice, "but he's dead now. He died, not long ago. "

Ringg's eyes were bright with sympathy. "While you were off on thedrift? Bad luck, " he said gently. He was silent, and when he spoke againit 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 uscosmic-ray analysis, and what he didn't know about spiral nebulae couldbe engraved on my fifth toe-claw, and he'd never been off the face ofthe planet. Not even to one of the moons! He was the supervisor of mystudent 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 GreatNebula. We had some wild times, " Ringg reminisced. "We'd slip away tothe city--strictly against rules, it was an old-style school--and drawlots 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 waxat us, with his nose in a text on cosmic dust, never looking up. So theone 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, ofcourse, the old chap would go up to bed, and late that night the one whostayed in would sneak down and let us in. "

Ringg sat up suddenly, touching his cheek. "Was that a drop of rain? Andthe sun's gone. I suppose we ought to start back, though I hate to leavethose caves unexplored. "

Bart bent to gather up the debris of their meal. He flinched assomething 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 tobe getting bigger by the moment. Lightning flashed around them in suddenglare. They ducked their heads and ran. 

"Get in under the lee of the cliffs. We couldn't possibly make it backto the _Swift_--" Ringg's voice broke off in a cry of pain; he slumpedforward, pitched to his knees, then slid down and lay still. 

"What's the matter?" Bart, arm curved to protect his skull, bent overthe fallen Lhari, but Ringg, his forehead bleeding, lay insensible. Bartfelt sharp pain in his arm, felt the hail hard as thrown stones rainingon his head. Ringg was out cold. _If they stayed in this_, Bart thoughtdespairingly, _they'd both be dead!_

Crouching, trying to duck his head between his shoulders, Bart got hisarms under Ringg's armpits and half-carried, half-dragged him under thelee of the cliffs. He slipped and slid on the thickening layer of iceunderfoot, lost his footing, and came down, hard, one arm twistedbetween himself and the cliff. He cried out in pain, uncontrollably, andlet Ringg slip from his grasp. The Lhari boy lay like the dead. 

Bart bent over him, breathing hard, trying to get his breath back. Thehail was still pelting down, showing no signs of lessening. About fivefeet 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 stoopedand got hold of Ringg again. A pain like fire went through the wrist hehad smashed against the rock. He set his teeth, wondering if it hadbroken. The effort made him see stars, but he managed somehow to hoistRingg up again and haul him through the pelting hail toward the yawninggap. It darkened around them, and, blessedly, the battering, bruisinghail could not reach them. Only an occasional light splinter of ice blewwith the bitter wind into the mouth of the cave. 

Bart laid Ringg down on the floor, under the shelter of the rockceiling. 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 carefullywiped some of it away. His stomach turned at the deep, ugly cut, whichimmediately started oozing fresh blood. He pressed the edges of the cuttogether with the napkin, wondering helplessly how much blood Ringgcould lose without danger, and if he had concussion. If he tried to goback to the ship and fetch the medic for Ringg, he'd be struck by hailhimself. From where he stood, it seemed that the hailstones were gettingbigger 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 splatteringhail and a sound of water somewhere--_or was that a rustle of scales, adragging of strange feet?_ He looked through the darkness into thedepths of the cave, his hand on his shock-beam. He was afraid to turnhis back on it. 

_This is nonsense, _ he told himself firmly, _I'll just walk back thereand 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 tookit out, shining it on the back wall of the cave; then drew a long breathof startlement and for a moment forgot Ringg and his own pain. 

For the back wall of the cave was an exquisite fall of crystal! Mineralsglowed there, giant crystals, like jewels, crusted with strangelichen-like growths and colors. There were pale blues and greens and, shimmering among them, a strangely colored crystalline mineral that hehad never seen before. It was blue--_No_, Bart thought, _that's just thelight, 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 tosit up. He ran back to him, dropping to his knees at Ringg's side. "It'sall right, Ringg, lie still. We're under cover now. "

"Wha' happened?" Ringg said blurrily. "Head hurts--all sparks--all thepretty lights--can't _see_ you!" He fumbled with loose, uncoordinatedfingers at his head and Bart grabbed at him before he poked a claw inhis eye. "Don't _do_ that, " Ringg complained, "can't _see_--"

_He must have a bad concussion then. That's a nasty cut. _ Gently, herestrained 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'sstopped. 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 situp, he flinched, and Bart said, "You'd better lie still. " He knew thathead injuries should be kept very quiet; he was almost afraid to leaveRingg for fear the Lhari boy would have another delirious fit and hurthimself, but there was no help for it. 

The hail had stopped, and the piled heaps were already melting, but itwas bitterly cold. Bart wrapped himself in the silvery cloak, glad ofits warmth, and struggled back across the slushy, ice-strewn meadow thathad been so pink and flowery in the sunshine. The _Swiftwing_, amonstrous dark egg looming in the twilight, seemed like home. Bart feltthe heavenly warmth close around him with a sigh of pure relief, but theSecond 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 astretcher. " 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 beencaught out in a meteor shower, feathertop! We can find the place. You goand 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 thispestilential unlucky planet, we can afford any _more_ bad luck? Metalsfatigue, Karol burned so badly the medic thinks he may never use hishand again, and now you and Ringg getting yourselves laid up and out ofaction? The medic will help me with Ringg; that Mentorian girl can lookafter you. Get moving!"

He hurried away, and Bart, his head beginning to hurt, walked slowly upthe ramp. His whole arm felt numb, and he supported it with his goodhand. 

In the small infirmary, Karol lay groaning in a bunk, his arm bound inbandages, his head moving from side to side. The Mentorian girl Metaturned, charging a hypo. She looked pale and drawn. She went to Karol, uncovering his other arm, and made the injection; almost immediately themoaning stopped and Karol lay still. Meta sighed and drew a hand overher brow, brushing away feathery wisps that escaped from the cap tiedover her hair. 

"Bartol? You're hurt? Not more burns, I hope?"

_She looks just like a fluffy little kitten_, Bart thoughtincongruously. 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 familiarword. "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 bloodaway 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 asnice and green as it could be. " He bit the words off, realizing he hadmade a slip, but the girl seemed not to hear, fastening a strip ofplastic over a cut. She picked up his wrist. Bart flinched in spite ofhimself, 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'sbroken. Just strap it up. "

"It's pretty badly swollen, " the girl said, moving it gently. "Does thathurt? I thought so. "

Bart set his teeth against a cry. "It's all right, I tell you. Justbecause it's black and blue--"

He heard her breath jolt out, her fingers clenched painfully on hiswounded wrist. She did not hear his cry this time. "And the sun was niceand _green_, " she whispered. _"What are you?"_

Bart felt himself slip sidewise; he thought for a moment that he wouldfaint where he sat. Terrified, he looked up at Meta. Their eyes met, andshe 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 Metasuddenly 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'thear 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 hiswrist on the table, went to the infirmary door and locked it on theinside. She turned around, her face white; even her lips had lost theircolor. "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 thathad managed to get through on a Lhari ship. " Her face twisted. "You--youmust know about the man on the _Multiphase_, you know they'll--make sureI 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 whenthey find out that you know and--didn't tell?"

Her gray eyes were wide as a kitten's. "Why, nothing. The Lhari wouldnever _hurt_ anyone, would they?"

Brainwashed? He set his mouth grimly. "I hope you never find outdifferent. "

"Why would they need to?" she asked, reasonably. "They could just erasethe memory. I never heard of a Lhari actually hurting anyone. Butsomething 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, youmust be the--the loneliest man in the Universe!"

Her voice was compassionate. Bart felt his throat tighten, and had theawful feeling that he was going to cry. He reached with his good handfor hers, seeking the comfort of a human touch, but she flinchedinstinctively away. 

_He was a monster to this pretty girl. .. . _

"It looks so real, " she said helplessly. "Yes, now I can see, you havetiny moons at the base of the nail, and the Lhari don't. " Her faceworked. "It's--it's horrifying! How could you--"

There was a noise in the corridor. Meta gasped and ran to unlock thedoor, stood back as the medic and the Second Officer came in, staggeringunder Ringg's weight. Carefully, they put him into a bunk. The medicstraightened, shaking his crest. 

"Did you get that wrist taken care of, Bartol?"

Meta stepped between Bart and the officer, reaching for a roll ofbandage. "I'm working on it now, _rieko mori_, " she said. "It only wantsstrapping up. " But her fingers trembled as she wound the gauze, pullingeach fold tight. 

"How's--Ringg?"

"Needs quiet, " grunted the medic, "and a few sutures. Lucky you got himunder cover when you did. "

Ringg said weakly from his bunk, "Bartol saved my life. I can think ofplenty who'd have run for cover, instead of staying out in that stufflong enough to drag me inside. Thanks, shipmate. "

Meta's hand, with a swift hard pressure, lingered on Bart's shoulder asshe cut the bandage and fastened the end. "I don't think that willbother you much now, " she whispered, fleetingly. "I didn't dare say itwas broken or they'd insist on X-rays. If it hurts I'll get yousomething later for the pain. If you keep it strapped up tight--"

"It will do, " Bart said aloud. The tight bandage made it feel a littlebetter, but he felt sick and dizzy, and when the medic turned and sawhim, the officer said brusquely "Watch off for you, Bartol. I'll fix thesign-out sheet, but you go to your cabin and get yourself at least fourhours of sleep. _That's an order. _"

Bart stumbled out of the cabin with relief. Safe in his own quarters, heflung himself down on his bunk, shaking all over. He'd come safelythrough one more nightmare, one more terror--for the moment! Had he putMeta in danger, too? Was there no end to this ceaseless fear? Not onlyfor himself, but for others, the innocent bystanders who stumbled intoplots they did not understand?

_You're doing this for the stars. It's bigger than your fear. It'sbigger 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 hadclosed the ugly wound in his skull. Bart's wrist, after a few days ofnightmarish 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 coalof Antares burned in their viewports. 

Antares had twelve planets, the outermost of which--far away now, at thefurthest point in its orbit from the point of the _Swiftwing_'s entryinto the system--was a small captive sun. No larger than the planetEarth, it revolved every ninety years around its huge primary. 

Small as it was, it was blazingly blue-white brilliant, and had a tinyplanet of its own. After their stop on Antares Seven--the largest of theinhabited planets in this system, where the Lhari spaceport waslocated--they would make a careful orbit around the great red primary, and land on the tiny worldlet of the blue-white secondary before leavingthe Antares system. 

As Bart watched Antares growing in the viewports, he felt a variety ofemotions. On the one hand, he was relieved that as his voyage in secrecyneared its official destination, he had as yet not incurred unmasking. 

But he felt uncertain about his father's co-conspirators. Would theyreturn him to human form and send him back to Vega, his part ended? Orwould 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 Lhariworlds, returning victorious with the secret of their fueling location, or of the star-drive itself. At another, he could not wait to be free ofit all. He longed for the society of his own people, yet ached to thinkthat this voyage between the stars must end so soon. 

They made planetfall at the largest Lhari spaceport Bart had seen; asalways, the Second Officer was the first to go through Decontam andashore, returning with exchanged mail and messages for the _Swiftwing_'screw. He laughed when he gave Bartol a sealed packet. "So you're notquite the orphan we've always thought!"

Bart took it, his heart suddenly pounding, and walked away through thegroups of officers and crew eagerly debating how they would spend theirport 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 acloak from Meta. She did not ask why he wanted it, and stopped him whenhe would have told her. "I'd--rather not know. "

She looked very small and very scared, and Bart wished he could comforther, but he knew she would shrink from him, repelled and horrified byhis 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 aLhari 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 atthe side, he felt almost like himself. And as the strange crimsontwilight folded down across the streets, laden with spicy smells andlittle, fragrant gusts of wind, he almost savored the sense of being aconspirator, of playing for high stakes in a network of intrigue betweenthe 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 thespaceport, across a little gleaming lake that shimmered red, indigo, violet in the crimson sunset, surrounded by a low wall of what lookedlike purple glass. Bart, moving slowly through the gate, felt that eyeswere watching him, and forced himself to walk with slow dignity. 

Up the path. Up a low flight of black-marble stairs. A door swung openand shut again, closing out the red sunset, letting him into a room thatseemed dim after the months of Lhari lights. There were three men in theroom, but his eyes were drawn instantly to one, standing against anold-fashioned fireplace. 

He was very tall and quite thin, and his hair was snow-white, though hedid not look old. Bart's first incongruous thought was, _He'd make abetter Lhari than I would. _ His firm, commanding voice told Bart at oncethat 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 twomen, 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. Whatcolor 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 wasa fake. " He stepped back and looked Bart over from head to foot, whistling. "Raynor Three is a genius! Claws and everything! What a deuceof 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 cloakmean--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 isdead. Dead! It came a little before he expected it, then. So you'reBart. " He sighed. "My name's Montano. This is Hedrick, and I suppose yourecognize Raynor Two. "

Bart blinked. It was the same face, but it was not grim like RaynorOne's, nor expressive and kindly like that of Raynor Three. This onejust looked dangerous. 

"But sit down, " Montano said with a wave of his hand, "make yourselfcomfortable. "

Hedrick relieved Bart of his cloak; Raynor Two put a cup of somesteaming drink in his hand, passed him a tray of small hot fried thingsthat tasted crisp and delicious. Bart relaxed, answering questions. _Howold? Only seventeen? And you came all alone on a Lhari ship, workingyour way as Astrogator? I must say you've got guts, kid!_ It wasdangerously like the fantasy he had invented. But Montano interrupted atlast. 

"All right, this isn't a party and we haven't all night. I don't supposeBart has either. Enough time wasted. Since you walked into this, youngSteele, 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 toosqueamish!"

Montano said irritably, "We couldn't have done anything without a man onthe _Swiftwing_, and you know it. We still can't. Bart, I suppose youknow about Lharillis. "

"Not by that name. "

"Your next stop. The planetoid of the captive sun. That little hunk ofbare rock out there is the first spot the Lhari visited in thisgalaxy--even before Mentor. It's an inferno of light from that littleblue-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, theybuilt 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 surethere were no rare minerals there, and finally leased it to them, acentury at a time. They mine the place for some kind of powderedlubricant that's better than graphite--it's all done by robot machinery, no one's stationed there. Every time a Lhari ship comes through thissystem they stop there, even though there's nothing on Lharillis excepta landing field and some concrete bunkers filled with robot miningmachinery. They'll stop there on the way out of this system--and that'swhere you come in. We need you on board, to put the radiation counterout of commission. "

He took a chart from a drawer, spread it out on a table top. "Thesimplest way would be to cut these two wires. When the Lhari land, we'llbe there, waiting for them. On board the Lhari ship, there must be fullrecords--coordinates of their home world, of where they go for theircatalyst fuel--all that. "

Bart whistled. "But won't the crew defend the ship? You can't fightenergon-ray guns!"

Montano's face was perfectly calm. "No. We won't even try. " He handedBart a small strip of pale-yellow plastic. 

"Keep this out of sight of the Mentorians, " he said. "The Lhari won't beable 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 youare. When it starts to turn orange, it's picking up radiation. If you'reaboard the ship, get into the drive chambers--they're lead-lined--andyou'll be safe. If you're out on the surface, you'll be all right insideone 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'scold, 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, " Montanosaid, his face taking on the fanatic's light, "but some of us dare dosomething, some of us aren't going to sit forever and let them strangleall humanity, hold us down, let us _die_! It's war, Bart, war foreconomic survival. Do you suppose the Lhari would hesitate to killanyone if we did anything to hurt their monopoly of the stars? Or didn'tthey tell you about David Briscoe, how they hunted him down like ananimal--"

"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, andas always he shivered with the horror of it, but for the first time itcame to him: _Briscoe had provoked his own death. He had physicallyattacked the Lhari--threatened them, goaded them to shoot him down inself-defense!_ "I've been on shipboard with them for months. They're notwanton murderers. "

Raynor Two made a derisive sound. "Sounds like it might be Threetalking!"

Hedrick growled, "Why waste time talking? Listen, young Steele, you'lldo 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'sshoulders, persuasively. "Bart, I know how you feel. But can't you trustme? You're Rupert Steele's son, and you're here to carry on what yourfather left undone, aren't you? If you fail now, there may not beanother chance for years--maybe not in our lifetimes. "

Bart dropped his head in his hands. _Kill a whole shipload ofLhari--innocent traders? Bald, funny old Rugel, stern Vorongil, Ringg--_

"I don't know what to do!" It was a cry of despair. Bart lookedhelplessly around at the men. 

Montano said, almost tenderly, "You couldn't side with the Lhari againstmen, could you? Could a son of Rupert Steele do that?"

Bart shut his eyes, and something seemed to snap within him. His fatherhad died for this. He might not understand Montano's reasons, but he hadto 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, hadmemorized the location of the device he was to sabotage, and accepted, from Montano, a pair of dark contact lenses. "The light's hellish outthere, " Montano warned. "I know you're half Mentorian, but they don'teven take their Mentorians out there. They're proud of saying no humanfoot has ever touched Lharillis. "

When he got back to the Lhari spaceport, Ringg hailed him. "Where haveyou been? I hunted the whole port for you! I wouldn't join the partytill you came. What's a pal for?"

Bart brushed by him without speaking, disregarding Ringg's surprisedstare, and went up the ramp. He reached his own cabin and threw himselfdown in his bunk, torn in two. 

Ringg was his friend! Ringg liked him! And if he did what Montanowanted, Ringg would die. 

Ringg had followed him, and was standing in the cabin door, watching himin surprise. "Bartol, is something the matter? Is there anything I cando? 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 letme 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 glidedaway. 

Bart's resolve hardened. Loneliness had done odd things to him--thinkingof Ringg, a Lhari, one of the freaks who had killed his father, as afriend! If they knew who he was, they would turn on him, hunt him downas they'd hunted Briscoe, as they'd hunted his father, as they'd houndedhim from Earth to Procyon. He put his scruples aside. He'd made up hismind. 

They could all die. What did he care? He was human and he was going tobe loyal to his own kind. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

But although he thought he had settled all the conflict, he found thatit returned when he was lying in his bunk, or when he stood in the domeand watched the stars, while they moved through the Antares systemtoward 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 yellowradiation badge. _If you fail, it won't be in our lifetime. _ He'd haveto go back to little things, to the little ships that hauled piddlingcargo between little planets, while all the grandeur of the starsbelonged to the Lhari. And if he succeeded, Vega Interplanet couldspread from star to star, a mighty memorial to Rupert Steele. 

One day Vorongil sent for him. "Bartol, " he said, and his voice was notunkind, "you and Ringg have always been good friends, so don't be angryabout this. He's worried about you--says you spend all your spare timein your bunk growling at him. Is there anything the matter, feathertop?"

He sounded so concerned, so--the word struck Bart with hystericalhumor--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 aworld, young fellow, and a small one. If one being in that world isunhappy, it affects everyone. "

Bart had an absurd, painful impulse--to blurt out the incredible truthto Vorongil, and try to get the old Lhari to understand what he wasdoing. 

But fear held him silent. He was alone, one small human in a ship ofLhari. Vorongil was frowning at him, and Bart mumbled, "It's nothing, _rieko mori_. "

"I suppose you're pining for home, " Vorongil said kindly. "Well, itwon't be long now. "

The glare of the captive sun grew and grew in the ports, and Bart'sdread mounted. He had, as yet, had no opportunity to put the radiationcounter out of order. It was behind a panel in the drive room, and tryas 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 killMontano and his men. 

Did he believe that? He had to believe it. It was the only way he couldpossibly justify what he was doing. 

And then his chance came, as so many chances do when one no longer wantsthem. The Second Officer met him at the beginning of one watch, sayingworriedly, "Bartol, old Rugel's sick--not fit to be on his feet. Do youthink you can hold down this shift alone, if I drop in and give you ahand from time to time?"

"I think so, " Bart said, carefully not overemphasizing it. The SecondOfficer, by routine, spent half of his time in the drive room, and halfhis time down below in Maintenance. When he left, Bart knew he wouldhave at least half an hour, uninterrupted, in the drive room. He rippedopen the panel, located the wires and hesitated; he didn't quite dare tocut them outright. 

He jerked one wire loose, frayed the other with a sharp claw until itwas almost in shreds and would break with the first surge of current, pulled two more connections loose so that they were not making fullcontact. He closed the panel and brushed dust over it, and when theSecond Officer came back, Bart was at his own station. 

As Antares fell toward them in the viewport, he found himself worryingabout Mentorians. They would be in cold sleep, presumably in a safe partof the ship, behind shielding, or Montano would have made provisions forthem. Still, he wished there were a way to warn Meta. 

He was not on watch when they came into the planetary field ofLharillis, but when he came on shift, he knew at once that the troublehad been located. The panel was pulled open, the exposed wires hanging, and Ringg was facing old Rugel, shouting, "Listen, Baldy, I won't haveyou accusing me of going light on my work! I checked those panels eightdays 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, onlybeing careless, young Ringg. You poke with those buzzing instruments andthings, maybe once you tear loose some wires. "

Bart remembered he wasn't supposed to know what was going on. "What'sthis 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 thislanding--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'tneed it for landing, why worry?" He felt like Judas. 

"Just take a look at my daybook, " Ringg insisted, "I checked and markedit _service fit_! I tell you, somebody was blundering around, openingpanels where they had no business, tore it out by accident, then was toomuch of a filthy sneak to report it and get it fixed!"

"Bartol was on watch alone one night, " said the Second Officer, "but youwouldn't meddle with panels, would you, Bartol?"

Bart set his teeth, steadying his breathing, as Ringg turned hopefullyto him. "Bartol, did you--by mistake, maybe? Because if you did, itwon't count against your rating, but it means a black mark againstmine!"

Bart hid his self-contempt in sudden, tense fury. "No, I didn't! You'regoing to accuse everybody on the _Swiftwing_, all the way from me toVorongil, before _you_ can admit a mistake, aren't you? If you wantsomebody to blame, look in a mirror!"

"Listen, you!" Ringg's pent-up rage exploded. He seized Bart by theshoulder and Bart moved to throw him off, so that Ringg's outthrustclaws raked only his forearm. In pure reflex he felt his own claws flickout; they clinched, closed, scuffled, and he felt his claws rake flesh;half incredulous, saw the thin red line of blood welling from Ringg'scheek. 

Then Rugel's arms were flung restrainingly around him, and the SecondOfficer was wrestling with a furious, struggling Ringg. Bart looked athis red-tipped claws in ill-concealed horror, but it was lost in ageneral gasp of consternation, for Vorongil had flung the drive roomdoor 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 hedid not pause for breath for a good fifteen minutes. By the time hefinished, Bart felt he would rather Ringg's claws had laid him bleedingto the bone than stand there in the naked contempt of the old Lhari'sfreezing eyes. 

"Half-fledged nestlings trying to do a man's work! So someone forgot thepanel, or damaged the panel by mistake--no, not another word, " hecommanded, 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 thecaptain of the _Swiftwing_!" He looked ugly and dangerous. "I thoughtbetter of you both. Get below, you squalling kittens! Let me not seeyour faces again before we land!"

As they went along the corridor, Ringg turned to Bart, apology andchagrin in his eyes. "Look--I never meant to get the Bald One down onus, " he said, but Bart kept his face resolutely averted. It was easierthis way, without pretense of friendship. 

 * * * * *

The light from the small captive sun grew more intense. Bart had neverknown anything like it, and was glad to slip away and put the darkcontact 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, Bartlingered a minute, pinning the yellow radiation badge in a fold of hiscloak. A spasm of fear threatened to overwhelm him again, andnightmarish loneliness. He felt agonizingly homesick for his ownfamiliar face. It seemed almost more than he could manage, to step outinto the corridor full of Lhari. 

_It won't be long now. _

The hatch opened. Even accustomed, as he was, to Lhari lights, Bartsqueezed his eyes shut at the blue-white brilliance that assaulted himnow. 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 herealized there was an odd, but perceptible geometry to theirarrangement. They showed alternate crystal and opaque faces. Old Rugelnoted his look of surprise. 

"Never been here before? That's right, you've always worked on thePolaris run. Well, those aren't true rocks, but living creatures of asort. The crystals are alive; the opaque faces are lichens that havesomething like chlorophyll and can make their food from air andsunlight. The rocks and lichens live in symbiosis. They haveintelligence of a sort, but fortunately they don't mind us, or ourautomatic mining machinery. Every time, though, we find some new lichenthat's trying to set up a symbiote cycle with the concrete of ourbunkers. "

"And every time, " Ringg said cheerfully, "somebody--usually me--has tosee about having them scraped down and repainted. Maybe someday I'llfind a paint the lichens don't like the taste of. "

"Going to explore with Ringg?" Rugel asked, and Ringg, always ready tolet bygones be bygones, grinned and said, "Sure!" Bart could not facehim. 

Vorongil stopped and said, "This your first time here, young Bartol? Howwould you like to visit the monument with me? You can see the machineryon 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 smoothstone path. 

"The crystal creatures made this road, " Vorongil said at last. "I thinkthey read minds a little. There used to be a very messy, rocky deserthere, and we used to have to scrabble and scratch our way to themonument. Then one day a ship--not mine--touched down and discoveredthat there was a beautiful smooth road leading up to the monument. Andthe lichens never touch that stone--but you probably had all this inschool. Excited, Bartol?"

"No--no, sir. Why?"

"Eyes look a bit odd. But who could blame you for being excited? I nevercome here without remembering Rhazon and his crew on that long jump. Thelongest any Lhari captain ever made. A blind leap in the dark, remember, Bartol. Through the dark, through the void, with his own crew cursinghim for taking the chance! No one had ever crossed between galaxies--andremember, they were using the Ancient Math!"

He paused, and Bart said through a catch of breath. "Quite anachievement. " His badge still looked reassuringly yellow. 

"You young people have no sense of wonder, " Vorongil said. "Not that Iblame you. You can't realize what it was like in those days. Oh, we'dhad star-travel for centuries, we were beginning to stagnate. And nowlook at us! Oh, they derided Rhazon--said that even if he did findanyone, any other race, they'd be monsters with whom we could nevercommunicate. But here we have a whole new galaxy for peaceful trade, anew mathematics that takes all the hazard out of space travel, ourMentorian friends and allies. " He smiled. "Don't tell the High Councilon me, but I think they deserve a lot more credit than most Lhari careto give them. Between ourselves, I think the next Panarch may see itthat way. "

Vorongil paused. "Here's the monument. "

It lay between the crystal columns, tall, of pale blue sandstone, withletters in deep shadow of such contrast that the Lhari could read them:a high, sheer, imposing stele. Vorongil read the words slowly aloud inthe musical Lhari language:

"'Here, with thanks to Those who Watch the Great Night, I, Rhazon ofNedrun, 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 ofAll Knowledge still has many surprises in store for all the living. '

"I think I admire courage more than anything there is, Bartol. Who elsecould 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 whohe was and what he was doing. So only the Lhari had courage? _Life hassurprises, all right, Captain_, he thought grimly. 

He glanced down at the badge strip of plastic on his arm. It began totinge faint orange as he looked, and a chill of fear went over him. Hehad 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; theyhave intelligence of a sort. Though I've never actually _seen_ them movebefore, I know they shift places overnight. I wonder what's going on?"They were edging back, the path widening and changing. "Oh, well, maybethey're going to do some more landscaping for us. I once knew a captainwho swore they could read his mind. "

Bart saw the slow, inexorable deepening of his badge--he _had_ to getaway. He tensed, impatient; gripped by fists of panic. Somewhere on thisworld, 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 theirrecords and star routes. Now we know we can use it without dying in thewarp-drive. .. . _

_Think of this: to be human again, yet to travel the stars with men ofmy own race!_

_It's worth a few deaths!_

Even Vorongil? Standing here, talking to him, he might--_say it! Youtalked to him as if he'd been your father! Oh, Dad, Dad, what would youdo?_

His voice was steady, as he said, "It's very good of you to show me allthis, sir, but the other men will call me a slacker. Hadn't I better getto a work detail?"

"Hm, maybe so, feathertop, " Vorongil said. "Let me see--well, down thisway is the last row of bunkers. See the humps? You can check inside tosee if they're full or empty and save us the trouble of exploring ifthey're all empty. Have a look round inside if you care to--the robotmachinery'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 thestuff but take it back with us? Why locked? You've been on the drift toolong--among those thieving humans! It's time you got back to live amongdecent folk again. Well, go along. "

The sting of the words stiffened Bart as he took his leave. The color ofthe 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 understanddishonesty. _

_But they lied--lied to us all. .. . _

_Knowing what we were like, maybe! That we'd steal their ships, theirsecrets, their lives!_

The deepening color of the badge seemed the one visible thing in astrange glaring world. He walked along the row of bunkers, realizing heneed not check if they were full or empty--the Lhari wouldn't live longenough to harvest their better-than-graphite lubricant. They'd be dead. 

The last bunker was empty. He looked at his orange badge and steppedinside, 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 lensesblurring his eyes. And in his hand a drawn blaster was heldlevel--trained straight at Bart's heart. 

CHAPTER TWELVE

After the first moment of panic, Bart realized Montano could not tellhim from a Lhari. He remained motionless. "It's me, Montano--BartSteele. "

The man lowered the weapon and put it away. "You nearly got yourself cutdown, " 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 radiationwill reach lethal intensity. It has a very short half-life, though; onlyabout twelve minutes. If we spend an hour in here, we'll be safe enough. Did you have any trouble putting the radiation counter out ofcommission?"

So in half an hour they would all be dead. Ringg, Rugel, CaptainVorongil. Two dozen Lhari, all dead so that Montano could have a Lhariship to play with. 

And what then? More killing, more murder? Would Montano start killingeveryone who tried to get the secret of the drive from him? The Lharihad the star-drive; maybe it belonged to them, maybe not. Maybe humanshad a right to have it, too. But this wasn't the right way. Maybe theydidn't deserve it. 

He turned to look at Montano. The man was leaning back, whistling softlythrough his teeth. He felt like telling Montano that he couldn't gothrough with it. He started to speak, then stopped, his blood icingover. 

_If I try to argue with him, I'll never get out of here alive. It meanstoo much to him. _

_Do I just salve my conscience with that then? Sit here and let themdie?_

With a shock of remembrance, it came to Bart that he had a weapon. Hewas armed, this time, with the energon-beam that was part of hisuniform. 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 catchdown to the lowest point, which was simple shock. He froze as Montanolooked 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 hisface, his hand darted to his own gun. But Bart had pressed the charge ofhis, and Montano slumped over without a cry. He looked so limp that Bartgasped. Was he dead? Hastily he fumbled the lax hand for a pulse. Aftera long, endless moment he saw Montano's chest twitch and knew the manwas breathing. 

Well, Montano would be safe here in the bunker. Hastily, Bart looked athis timepiece. Half an hour before the radiation was lethal--_for theLhari_. Was it already, for him? Shakily, he unfastened the door. He ranout into the glare, seeing as he ran that his badge was tinged with anever-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 backalong the line of bunkers, his heart pounding with his racing feet. Twocrewmen came along the line, young white-crested Lhari from the otherwatch. He gasped, "Where is the captain?"

"Down that way--what's wrong, Bartol?" But Bart was gone, his musclesaching with the unaccustomed effort inside gravity. Putting on speed, hesaw the tall, austere shape of Vorongil, his banded cloak dark againstthe glaring light. Vorongil turned, startled, at the sound of hisrunning feet. 

Suddenly, Bart realized that he was still holding his energon-ray. Inshock and revulsion, he dropped it at Vorongil's feet. 

"Captain, go warn the men! They'll all be dead in half an hour! Thereare lethal radiations--"

"_What?_ Are you sunstruck?"

Bart stopped cold. Never once had it crossed his mind what he would sayto Vorongil or how he would make the captain believe his story, withoutrevealing Montano. He started to hold up his badge, realized the Lharicaptain could not see color, and dropped it again, while Vorongil bentover 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 hisexcitement he had been shouting in Universal. He drew a long, deepbreath. 

"Captain, there are lethal radiations being released here, " he said. "You have just barely half an hour to gather all the men and get thembehind 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 hesay, _Check that bunker?_ Even if Montano was a would-be murderer, hewas human, and Bart could not betray him to the Lhari. There had beentoo much betrayal. His voice rose in sudden hysteria. 

"Captain, there's no time! I tell you, you'll all be dead if you don'tbelieve 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 wellgo 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 hisshoulder in a cruel taloned grip. Bart said desperately "I'm not aLhari! I signed on in disguise--I knew they meant to take the ship, butI 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 thecontact 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 onBart, but it no longer mattered. He saw through watering eyes theever-deepening orange of the badge disappearing. 

"Here, " he said, tearing at it, "radiation. You must be able to see howdark it is. Even if it's just darkness. .. . "

Suddenly Vorongil was shouting, but Bart could not hear. Two men weredragging him along. They hustled him up the ramp of the ship. He couldsee again, but his eyes were blurred, and he felt sick, colors spinningbefore his eyes, a nauseated ringing in his head. 

At first he thought it was his ears ringing; then he made out therising, shrieking wail and fall of the emergency siren, steps running, shouting voices, the slow clang of the doors. Someone was pushing athim, babbling words in Lhari, but he heard them through anever-increasing distance: Vorongil's face bent over his, only a blurredcrimson blob that flashed away like a vanishing star in the viewport. Itflamed out into green darkness, vanished, and Bart fell through whatseemed to be a bottomless chasm of starless night. 

 * * * * *

When he woke, acceleration had its crushing hand on his chest. He triedto move, discovered that he was strapped hard into a bunk, and faintedagain. 

Suddenly the pressure was gone and he was lying at ease on the smoothsheets 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 andfound 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 Bartrecognized as that of the ship's medic. "Freak!"

"Listen, Baldy, " said Vorongil, "whoever he is, he could have beenblinded 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 canyour eyes stand?"

"As much as any Mentorian. " Bart found he could move his right arm, andtwitched the bandage away. Vorongil and the medic stood over him; in theother infirmary bunk a form was lying, covered with a white sheet. Sickly, Bart wondered if they had found Montano. Vorongil followed thedirection of his eyes. 

"Yes, " he said, and his voice held deep bitterness, "poor old Rugel isdead. He didn't get much of the radiation, but his heart wouldn't standit, and gave out. " He bowed his head. "He was bald in the service of theships when my crest was new-sprouted, " he said in deep grief. 

Bart felt the shock of that, even through his own fear. He looked downat his left arm. It was strapped to a splint, and fluid was drippingslowly into the vein there. 

Vorongil nodded. "I expect you feel pretty sick. You got a good dose ofradiation yourself, but we've given you a couple of transfusions--one ofthe Mentorians matched your blood type, fortunately. It was a closecall. "

The medic was looking down in ill-disguised curiosity. "Fantastic, " hesaid. "I don't suppose you'd tell me who changed your looks. I admit Iwouldn't believe it until I had a look at your foot bones under thefluoroscope. "

Vorongil said quietly, "Bartol--I don't suppose that's your realname--why did you do it?"

"I couldn't see you all die, sir, " Bart said, not expecting them tobelieve him. "No more than that. "

The medic said roughly in Lhari, "It's a trick, sir, no more. A trick tomake us trust him!"

"Why would he risk his own life then?" Vorongil asked. "No, it's morethan that. " He hesitated. "We checked the bunkers--in radiationsuits--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 didyou kill him?"

"What do you think we are?" Vorongil said incredulously. "Indeed no. Hisown men have probably found him by now. I don't imagine he got half asmuch radiation as you did. "

Bart surveyed the needle in his arm. "Why are you taking all thistrouble if I'm going to be put out of the way?"

"You must have some funny ideas about us, " Vorongil said shaking hishead. "That would be a fine way to reward you for saving all of ourlives. No, you're not going to be killed. "

"If I had my way--" the old medic began, and suddenly Vorongil flew intoa rage. "Get out!"

The medic went stiffly through the door, and Vorongil stood gazing downat 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 allalong. Are you a Mentorian?"

"Only half. "

"Strange, " Vorongil said, looking into space, "that I could talk to youas I did by the monument, and you knew what I meant. But, yes, you wouldunderstand. " Abruptly, he recalled himself, and his voice was thin andcold. 

"I haven't quite decided what to do. I haven't spoken of this to thecrew yet; the fewer who know about this, the better. I told them you gota heavy dose of radiation, and you're too sick to see visitors. " Hesounded kinder when he said, "It's true, you know. It won't hurt you toget your strength back. "

He went out, and Bart wondered, _Get my strength back for what?_ He layback, feeling weaker than he realized. It was a relief to know he wasn'tgoing to be killed out of hand. And somehow he didn't believe he wasgoing 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 radiationburns"--and if he stayed in the bunk, it was only because he felt tooweak 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 whathe had done. 

_You sided with the Lhari against your own people. You spoilt ourchances of learning about the Lhari fuel catalyst. _

"I've done something better than stealing a secret by stealth. I'veproved that humans and Lhari can communicate, that they can trust eachother. It's only their looks that are strange. A kind, generous man is akind 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 betterunderstanding 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, wassitting quietly between the bunks, watching him. He started to turnover, flinched at the pain in his arm. 

"Yes, " she said, "we're giving you one last transfusion. Plasma, thistime. It's Lhari, but if you know that much, you know it won't hurtyou. " She came and inspected the needle in his wrist, and Bart caughther hand with his free one. "Meta, does anyone else know?"

She looked down with a troubled smile. "I don't think so. I was offwatch, waiting for cold-sleep--we're just about to make the longjump--when Vorongil came to my quarters. I was startled almost out of mywits. 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 twoof his friends. It was the only thing he couldn't square with hisperception of the Lhari. It didn't fit. He could understand that theyhad shot down the robotcab with Edmund Briscoe in it, in pureself-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 notbe 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 staringbleakly at the wall. He supposed that was his probable fate: rememberingthe tragic tone of Raynor Three when he said _I won't remember you_, hegritted his teeth, feeling his face twist convulsively. Meta, watching, misunderstood. 

"Arm hurting? I'll have that needle out of your vein in a few minutesnow. "

When she had freed his arm and put away the apparatus, she came to hisside. "Bart, how did it happen? How did they find you out?"

Suddenly, the longing for human contact was too much for Bart, and theknowledge of his secret intolerable. The Lhari could find out what heknew, if they wanted to know, very simply; he was in their power. Itdidn't matter any more. 

The telling of the story took a long time, and when he finished, Meta'ssoft small kitten-face was compassionate. 

"I'm glad you--decided what you did, " she whispered. "It's what aMentorian would have done. I know that other races call us _slaves ofthe Lhari_. We aren't. We're working in our own way to show the Lharithat human beings can be trusted. The other peoples--they hold away fromthe Lhari, fighting them with words even though they're afraid to fightthem 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 keepsaying, _We're as good as the Lhari_, but only the Mentorians arewilling to prove it? Bart, a Lhari ship can't get along in our galaxywithout Mentorians any more! It may be slower than trying to take thewarp-drive by force, or stealing it by spying, but when we learn toendure it, I have faith that we'll get it!"

Bart, although moved by Meta's philosophy, couldn't quite share it. Itstill seemed to him that the Mentorians were lacking insomething--independence, maybe, or drive. 

"I wasn't thinking about anything like that, " he said honestly. "It wassimply that I couldn't let them die. After all--" he was speaking moreto 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 withprofit to both sides. I hope we'll get the star-drive someday. But if wegot it by mass murder, it would sow the seeds of a hatred between menand Lhari that would never end. It wouldn't be worth it, Meta. Nothingwould be worth that. We've got enough hate already. "

 * * * * *

Bart was still in his bunk, but beginning to fret at staying there, whenthe familiar trembling of Acceleration Two started to run through theship. It was, by now, so familiar to him that he hardly gave it a secondthought, but Meta panicked. 

"What's happening? Bart, what is it? Why are we under accelerationagain?"

"Shift to warp, " he said without thinking, and her face went deathlywhite. "So that's it, " she whispered. "Vorongil--no wonder he wasn'tworried about what I would find out from you or what you knew. " She drewherself together in her chair, a miserable, shrunken, terrified littlefigure, 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 sweptover Bart what she meant and what she feared. "But don't you understand, Meta?" he exclaimed, "Humans _can_ live through the warp-drive! Nodrugs, 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, tothe tissues of my body. Just a little plastic surgery on my hands, myfeet and my face. Meta, there's nothing to be afraid of--nothing, " herepeated. 

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, clawinglassitude and discomfort. Bart, gasping under it, heard the girl moan, saw her slump lax in her chair, half fainting. Her face was so deathlywhite that he began seriously to be afraid she would die of her fear. Fighting his own agonizing weakness, he pulled himself upright. Hereached the girl, dug his claws cruelly into her. 

"Girl, get hold of yourself! Fight it! _Fight_ it! The more scared youare, 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 areall you Mentorians so gutless that you believe any half-baked folk talethe Lhari pass off on you? You and your fine talk about earning thestar-drive! What would you do with it after you got it--if you die offear 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 herface, and the trembling now was with fury, not fear; she was fightingthe pain, the crawling itch in her nerve ends, the terrible sense ofdraining disorganization. 

Bart felt his hold on himself breaking. He whispered hoarsely, "That'sthe girl--don't be scared if I--black out for a minute. " He held on toconsciousness with his last courage, afraid if he fainted, the girlwould collapse again. 

She reached for him, and Bart, starved for some human touch, drew herinto his arms. They clung together, and he felt her wet face against hisown, 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 ofwarp-drive peak blotted his brain into nothingness. 

He came out of it to feel her cheek soft against his, her headtrustfully 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 forgottenhis Lhari disguise, that Meta had given him this priceless reassurancethat he was human. But, as if suddenly aware of it again, she looked upat 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--Ican't quite explain it. "

"Different, " Bart finished for her. "At first I was repelled--physicallyrepelled 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 anotherkid. He had gray skin and long claws and white hair, just the way I oncehad pinkish skin and short fingernails and reddish hair, but thedifference wasn't that I was human inside and he wasn't. If you skinnedRingg, and skinned me, we'd be almost identical. And all of a suddenthen, Ringg and Vorongil and all the rest were men to me. Just people. Ithought 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 themall these years, yet kept so apart! I've defended the Lhari to you, yetit took you to explain them to me!"

His arm was still round her, her head still lying on his shoulder. Bartwas just beginning to wonder if he might kiss her when the infirmarydoor opened and Ringg stood in the doorway, staring at them withsurprise, shock and revulsion. Bart realized, suddenly, how it must lookto Ringg--who certainly shared Meta's prejudice--but even as hecomprehended it, Ringg's face altered. Meta slipped from Bart's arms androse, but Ringg came slowly a step into the room. 

"I--remembered you had a bad reaction, to warp-drive, " he said. "I cameto see if you were all right. I would never have believed--but I'mbeginning to guess. There was always something about you, Bartol. " Heshut the door behind him and stood against it. His voice lowered almostto 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 oneor two of them really _know_ what happened. There are a dozen rumors. Iwanted to see you. They said you were sick with radiation burns--"

"I was. "

Ringg raised his hand, absently, to the still-puckered mark on hischeek, saw Bart watching him and smiled. 

"You're not worrying about that fight? Forget it, friend. If anything, Iadmire someone who can use his claws--especially if, as I begin tosuspect, they're not his. " He leaned over, his hand lightly on Bart'sshoulder. "I don't forget so easily. You saved my life, remember? Andyou're a hero on the ship for warning us all. Are you really human? Whynot 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 ofhuman I'd make?" He looked at Meta's small fingers. "Not that I'd everhave the nerve. But then, it's no surprise to anyone that you havecourage, Bartol. "

"You seem to accept it--"

"It's a shock, " said Ringg honestly, "it scares me a little. But I'mremembering the friendship. That was real. As far as I'm concerned, itstill is real. "

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ringg was still bending over Meta's hand when Vorongil came into thecabin. He started to speak, then noticed Ringg. "I might have known, " hegrowled, "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 getit 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 theseyears--all of you?"

Vorongil looked mildly startled. "It wasn't exactly a lie. Nine out often Lhari captains believe it with all their heart--that humans die inwarp-drive. I wasn't sure myself until I heard the debates in CouncilCity, last year. "

"But why?"

Vorongil sighed. His eyes rested disconcertingly on Bart. "I presume youknow human history, " he said, "better than I do. The Lhari have neverhad a war, in all written history. Quite frankly, you terrified us. Itwas decided, on the highest summit levels, that we wouldn't give humanstoo many chances to find out things we preferred to keep to ourselves. The first few ships to carry Mentorians had carried them withoutcold-sleep, but people forget easily. The truth is buried in the recordsof those early voyages. 

"As the Mentorians grew more important to us, we began to regret thepolicy, but by that time the Mentorians themselves believed it so firmlythat when we tried the experiment of carrying them through the shiftinto warp-drive, they died of fear--pure suggestion. I tried it withyou, Meta, because I knew Bart's presence would reassure you. The otherswere 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 believeme, do you?"

"I don't, sir. David Briscoe did what I did, and he's dead. So are threeother men. "

"Men do strange things from fear--men and Lhari. Your people, as I saidbefore, have a strange history. It scares us. Can you guarantee thatsome, at least, of your people wouldn't try to come and take thestar-drive by force? We left a man on Lharillis who thought nothing ofkilling twenty-four of us. I suppose the captain of the _Multiphase_, knowing he had gravely violated Lhari laws, knowing that Briscoe'sreport might touch off an intergalactic war between men and Lhari--well, I suppose he felt that half a dozen deaths were better than half amillion. I'm not defending him. Just explaining, maybe, why he did whathe 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 personalfeelings have nothing to do with it. You'll have to go to Council Planetwith us, and you'll have to be psych-checked there. That is Lharilaw--and by treaty with your Federation, it is human law, too. If youknow anything dangerous to us, we have a legal right to eliminate thosememories before you can be released. "

Meta smiled at him, encouragingly, but Bart shivered. That was almostworse than the thought of death. 

And the fear grew more oppressive as the ship forged onward toward thehome world of the Lhari. And it did not lessen when, after they toucheddown, he was taken from the ship under guard. 

He had only a glimpse, through dark glasses, of the terrible brillianceof the Lhari sun dazzling on crystal towers, before he was hustled intoa closed surface car. It whisked him away to a building he did not seefrom the outside; he was taken up by private elevator to a suite ofrooms which might--for all he could tell--have been a suite in a luxuryhotel or a lunatic asylum. The walls were translucent, the furnitureoddly colored, and so carefully padded that even a homicidal or suicidalperson 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 oftenenough to keep him from being bored between meals, or from brooding. Twoenormous Lhari came in to look at him every hour or so, but either theywere deaf and dumb, did not understand his dialect of Lhari, or wereunder orders not to speak to him. It was the most frustrating time ofhis entire voyage. 

One day it ended. A Lhari and a Mentorian came for him and took him downelevators and up stairs, and into a quiet, neutral room where four Lhariwere gathered. They sat him in a comfortable chair, and the Mentorianinterpreter said gently, with apology:

"Bart Steele, I have been asked to say to you that you will not bephysically harmed in any way. This will be much simpler, and will havemuch less injurious effect on your mind if you cooperate with us. At thesame time, I have been asked to remind you that resistance is absolutelyuseless, and if you attempt it, you will only be treated with forcerather than with courtesy. "

Bart sat facing them, shaking with humiliation. The thought ofresistance flashed through his mind. Maybe he should make them fight forwhat they got! At least they'd see that all humans weren't like theMentorians, to sit quietly and let themselves be brainwashed without aword of protest. 

He started to spring up, and the hands of his guards tightened, swiftand strong, even before his muscles had fully tightened. Bart's headdropped. Cold common sense doused over his brave thoughts. He wasuncountable millions of light-years from his own people. He wasabsolutely alone. Bravery would mean nothing; submission would meannothing. Would he be more of a man, somehow, if he let his mind bewrecked?

"All right, " he muttered, "I won't fight. "

"You show your good sense, " the Mentorian said quietly. "Give me yourleft arm, please--or, if you are left-handed, your right. As youprefer. "

Deftly, almost painlessly, a needle slid into his arm. _Giving in. _ Adizzying welter of thoughts spun suddenly in his mind. Briscoe. RaynorOne 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--itseemed to him that he could reach into that patch of gray and dreamlesstime and fish out questions and answers whole, the faces of Lhariswelling up suddenly in his eyes and shrinking back into interstellardistance, the sting-smell of drugs, the sound of unexpected voices, oddreflex pains, cobwebs of patchy memories that fitted nowhere else intohis life so that he supposed they must go here. 

He only knew that there was a time he did not remember and then a timewhen he began to think there was such a thing as memory, and then a timewhen he floated without a body, and then another time when the path ofevery separate nerve in his body seemed to be outlined, a shimmering webin the gray murk. There was a mirror and a face. There were blotchyworms of light like the star-trails of peaking warp-drive through theviewport, colors shifting and receding, a green star, the red eye ofAntares. 

Then the peak-point faded, his mind began to decelerate and angle slowlydown and down into the field of awareness, and he became fuzzily awarethat he was lying full length on a sort of couch. He shook his headgroggily. It hurt. He sat up. That hurt, too. A hand closed gentlyaround his elbow and he felt the cold edge of a cup against his soremouth. 

"Take a sip of this. "

The liquid felt cool on his tongue, evaporating almost before he couldswallow; the fumes seemed to mount inside the root of his nose, expanding tremendously inside his head and brain. Abruptly his head wasclear, the last traces of gray fuzz gone. 

"When you feel able, " the Mentorian said courteously, "the High Councilwill see you. "

Bart blinked. As if exploring a sore tooth with his tongue, his mindsought for memories, but they all seemed clear, marshaled in line. Thedetails, clear and unblurred, of his voyage here. His humiliation andresentment against the Lhari. _They could have changed my thinking, myattitudes. They could have made me admire or be loyal to the Lhari. Theydidn't. I'm still me. _

"I'm ready now. " He got up, reeled and had to lean on the Mentorian; hisfeet did not seem to touch the ground in quite the right way. After aminute he could walk steadily, and followed the Mentorian along acorridor. 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, whitishopalescent, washed with green. For a moment, while his eyes adjusted tothe light, he wondered how the Lhari saw it. 

Beyond an expanse of black, glassy floor, he saw a low semicirculartable, behind which sat eight Lhari. All wore pale robes with highcollars that rose stiffly behind their domed heads; all were old, theirfaces lined with many wrinkles, and seven of the eight were as bald asthe 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 himto skulk in like a scared rabbit! He held his head high and moved acrossthe floor step by steady step, trying not to limp or display that hefelt tired or sore. 

_You're human! Act proud of it!_

No one moved until he stood before the semicircle of ancients. Then theyoungest, the only one of the eight with some trace of feathery crest onhis 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 revealhow desperately alone, how young and foolish and frightened he felt? Allhis brave resolutions seemed to drain away before their old, gnomishfaces. Here he'd been thinking of himself as a brave spy, a gallantfighter in humanity's cause and what not. Now he saw himself for what hewas; a reckless boy, meddling in affairs too big for him. He lowered hiseyes. 

"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. TheAntares authorities will deal with the man Montano for an unauthorizedlanding on Lharillis, in violation of Federation treaty. "

He smiled, his gnome's face breaking into a million tiny cracks like apiece of gray-glazed pottery. "Bartol, or whatever you call yourself, you are a brave young man. I suppose you are afraid we will block yourmemories, 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 beinterested to know that we have discussed this in Council, and yourrecommendations have been taken. The secret that humans can endurestar-drive has outlived its usefulness. For good or ill, it is secret nolonger. We cannot possibly eliminate all the old records, or theenterprising people who hunt them out. 

"The captain who had David Briscoe killed, under the mistaken notionthat this would excuse his own negligence in letting Briscoe stow awayon 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 itis located. You do not know where we secure the catalyst your peopleseek. In fact, you know nothing that is not soon to become commonknowledge. In view of that, we have decided not to interfere with yourmemories. "

"Talk as much as you like, " added another of the ancients, "and may yourmemories of this voyage help in understanding between the Lhari andother 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 youas the laws required; now your own people must do so. You must returnwith the _Swiftwing_ to the planet where the violation originated--" heconsulted a memorandum--"Procyon Alpha. There you and the man RaynorThree will face charges of unlawful conspiracy to board a Lhari ship, inviolation of Intergalactic Trade treaties. Captain Vorongil, will you beresponsible for him?"

_So I've lost_, Bart thought drearily. _I didn't even learn anythingimportant enough for them to suppress. _ There was a strange woundedpride in this; after all his trouble, he was being treated like a littleboy who has used a great deal of enterprise and intelligence to rob acookie cupboard, and for his pains is sent home with the stolen cookiein his hand. 

Vorongil touched his arm. "Come, Bartol, " he said gently, "I'm takingyou 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 toattempt escape (_Escape? Where to?_) or to attempt to enter the drivechamber of the _Swiftwing_ while they were still among the Lhari worlds. 

As they left the council hall, Bart, in a gesture of despair, coveredhis face with his hands. As he brought them down, he found himselfstaring at them, transfixed. 

The fingers looked longer and thinner than he remembered them, but theywere his own hands again. The nails seemed faintly thick and ridged, andthere was still a faint grayish tinge through the pale flesh color, butthey were human hands. Unmistakably. He felt of his nose and ears, withfumbling fingers; raised his hand and touched the very short, crisp hairgrowing on his newly shaven skull. 

"You fool, " said Vorongil to the Mentorian, in disgust, "why didn't youtell him what the medics had done for him? Easy, Bartol!" The oldLhari'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 hisprison during the return voyage of the _Swiftwing_, he had a chance tostudy his familiar-strange face. He had thought that only a shorttime--an hour or so--had elapsed between the time he was drugged and thetime they took him before the Council. Later, from what he learned aboutthe dispatch schedules of the _Swiftwing_, he realized that he had beenkept under sedation for nearly three weeks, while his face and handshealed. 

As Raynor Three had warned, the change was not altogether reversible. Studying his face in the mirror, he could still see a hint of somethingthin, strange, alien in the set of his features; the nose and chinsomewhat too pointed, elfin, to be human. His hands would always be toolong, too narrow, too supple. For the rest, he looked grim, older. Hecould never go back to what he had been before he became a Lhari; it hadleft 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 havepermission 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. Youdo not know the coordinates of this world, and have no way of findingthem. Within those limitations, you are an honored guest here, and if itwould give you any pleasure, you are welcome to see as much of CouncilPlanet as time permits. "

It seemed, through Vorongil's kindness, that the old Lhari sensed hisbitter defeat. Nothing was to be gained by sulking in his cabin, aprisoner. He had an opportunity which no human, except the Mentorians, had ever had; which perhaps no human would ever have again. He might aswell take advantage of it. 

Ringg and Meta both seemed startled at his new appearance, but Metainstantly held out her hands, clasping his quickly and warmly. "Bart! Iwondered what your real face looked like. But I think I'd have known youanyhow. "

Ringg surveyed him wonderingly, shaking his head. "Say something, " heimplored, "so I'll know you're Bartol. "

Bart held out his arm, less gray by the day as the drug wore out of hissystem. The thin line of the scar was still on it. He raised hisforefinger lightly to the fine line on Ringg's cheek. "I couldn't returnthat 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 thegreat spaceport. He saw, now, that the Lhari spaceports in human worldswere 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 theimagination. There were miles and miles of the great ships, lying strewnlike pebbles on this monster beachhead into space, bearing thestrangeness of a million far-flung stars. He gaped like a child. 

Above them, the burning brilliance of a star gave strange glow and colorto 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, andit's not red, blue, green, orange, violet--" He broke off, realizingwhat 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 youMentorians see! It's like trying to imagine seeing a smell or hearinglight!"

Meta laughed. "As far as I know, no one's named it. Sometimes weMentorians call it _catalyst color_. I think only Mentorians can see itas separate color. "

"So what?" Ringg said impatiently, "What are we going to do, chatterabout light waves or see the city?"

Bart acquiesced, trying to sound eager, but a wild excitement wasgusting up in him. He dutifully pretended fascination with the towers, the many-leveled roads, the giant dams and pylons, but his thoughts wereracing. 

_The eighth color!_ There can't be too many suns of this color, orthey'd have named it and known it! And telescopes can find it. 

Could success be salvaged, then, at the very edge of failure? Maybe heneed not go empty-handed, empty-eyed, from the Lhari worlds! They haddismissed him, scornfully, stolen cookie in hand--but maybe it would bea bigger cookie than they dreamed!

The exhilaration lasted through the tour of the port, through the heavysurge of acceleration which brought them up, out and way from CouncilPlanet. 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 forAcceleration Two, before he came, figuratively, down to earth. To pickone star out of trillions--and not even in his own galaxy? It would takea lifetime and he didn't even know which of the four or five spiralnebulae in the skies of the human worlds was the Lhari Galaxy. Alifetime? A hundred lifetimes wouldn't do it!

He might have known. If there had been one chance in the odd billion ofhis making any such discovery, the Lhari would never have given Vorongilpermission for the intruder to visit the planet at all. He would havebeen returned to the _Swiftwing_ as he had been taken from it, by closedcar, and imprisoned, maybe even drugged, until he was safely back in thehuman worlds again. 

He was under parole not to enter the drive chamber (and sure he would bestopped if he attempted it anyhow), but when Acceleration One wascompleted, he went to the viewport in the Recreation Lounge, and nobodythrew him out. He stood long, looking at the unfamiliar galaxy of theLhari stars; the unknown, forever unknowable constellations with theirstrange shapes. Stars green, gold, topaz, burning blue, sullen red, andthe great strangely colored receding sun of the Lhari people, known tothem by the melodious name of the Ke Lhiro--which meant, simply, _TheSun_: it was their first home. 

Where had he seen that color? In that stolen glimpse of the Lhari shiplanding, long ago? Of all the colors of space, this one he would neverknow. 

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 hadfirst plotted known coordinates for a previously unknown world, and towander in baffling nightmares where he fed jagged, star-colored piecesof hail into the ship's computer and watched them come out as tinypaperdoll spaceships with the letterhead of Eight Colors printed neatlyacross their sides. 

After the warp-drive shift, Vorongil came to his cabin, this time crispand businesslike. 

"We're back in your galaxy, " he said, "among the stars you know. We haveno passenger space on the _Swiftwing_; we had to ship out withoutreplacing Rugel, which means we're short two men. I've no authority toask this of you, but--would you like your old job back for the rest ofthe voyage?"

Bart glanced at his human hands. 

Vorongil shrugged. "We've carried Mentorians as full-rankingAstrogators. There don't happen to be any on the _Swiftwing_. Butthere'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 theHigh Council didn't see fit to erase those memories or inhibit them. Whyshould I? Do you want it or not?"

Did he want it? Until this moment Bart had not identified the worst ofhis pain and defeat--to travel as a passenger, a supercargo, when he hadonce been part of the _Swiftwing_. Literally he ached to be back with itagain. "I do, _rieko mori_. "

"Very well, " Vorongil rapped, "see that you turn out next watch!" Hespun round and walked out. His tone was no longer gently indulgent, butsharp and distant. Bart, at first surprised, suddenly understood. 

Not now a prisoner, a passenger, a guest on the _Swiftwing_. He was partof the crew again--and Vorongil was his captain. 

The Lhari crew were oddly constrained at first. But Ringg was the sameas always, and before long they were almost on the old terms. With everywatch, it seemed, he was building a bridge between man and Lhari. Theyaccepted him. 

But for what? Something might come, in the far future, of hisacceptance, but he wouldn't get the benefit of it. This would be hisonly voyage; after this he'd be chained again, crawling from planet toplanet of a single sun. And as warp-shift followed warp-shift, the_Swiftwing_ retracing the path of her outward cruise star by star, Bartsaid farewell to them. 

One day, at last, he stood at the viewport, watching Procyon Alphanearing. A year ago, frightened, terribly alone, still unsteady on hisnew Lhari muscles and terrified by the monsters that were his shipmates, he had watched these planets spinning away. Poor old Rugel, poor oldBaldy!

Behind him, Meta came into the lounge. 

"Bart--"

He turned to face her. "It won't be much longer, Meta. Tomorrow I'llfind out what the Federation is going to do to me. _Conspiracyunlawfully to board_--and all the rest of it. Even if I don't go to aprison 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 withus--please stay!"

Before answering, he looked out the viewport a last time. The clouds ofcosmic dust swirled and foamed around the familiar jewels of his ownsky. Blue, beloved Vega, burning in the heart of the Lyre--_home--whenwould he go home? He had no home now. _ Yet his father had left him VegaInterplanet, 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 andfarewell, David Briscoe!_); the bloodstone of Antares, where he hadlearned fear and the shape of integrity. The colors, the unknowablecolors of space. And others. Nameless stars where he and his Lharishipmates had worked and played. And stars he had never seen and wouldnever see, all the endless worlds beyond worlds and stars beyondstars. .. . 

He took a last, longing look at the colors of space, then turned hisback on them, deliberately giving them up. He could not pay the pricethe Mentorians paid. 

"No, Meta, " he said huskily. "The Mentorian way is one way, but--I'vehad a taste of being one of the masters of space. It's more than mostmen ever have, maybe it's more than I deserve. But I can't settle foranything less. Not even if it means losing you. "

He shut his eyes and stood, head bowed. When he looked up again, he wasalone with the stars beyond the viewport, and the lounge was empty. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The low rainbow building of Eight Colors, near the spaceport of ProcyonAlpha, had not changed; and when Bart went in, as he had done a yearago, it seemed that the same varnished girl was sitting before the sameglass desk, neon-edged and brittle, with the same chrome-tinged hair andblue fingernails. She looked at Bart in his Lhari clothing, at Meta inher Mentorian robe and cloak, at Ringg, and her unruffled dignity didnot 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 ishere--Bart Steele--and wants to see him right away. "

It had a sort of disrupting effect. She seemed to go blurred at theedges. After a minute, blinking carefully, she spoke into thevision-screen, and reported, numbly, "Go on up, Mr. Steele. "

He wasn't expecting a welcome. He said so as the elevator rose. "Afterall, if I'd never come back, he'd doubtless have inherited the wholeEight Colors line, unencumbered. I don't expect he'll be happy to seeme. But he's the only one I can turn to. "

The elevator stopped, opened. They stepped out, and a man steppednervously toward them. For a moment, expecting Raynor One, Bart wasdeceived; then as the man's face spread in a smile of welcome, hestopped in incredulous delight. 

"Raynor Three!"

In overflowing gladness, Bart hugged him. It was like a meeting with thedead. 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'tworth 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 exceptas a passenger, I couldn't go on being afraid to remember, never knowingthe consequences or responsibilities of what I'd done. " His sad smilewas strangely beautiful. "The _Multiphase_ sailed without me. I've beenhere, hoping against hope that someday I'd know the rest. "

Associations clicked into place in Bart's mind. The _Multiphase_. SoRaynor Three was the Mentorian who had smuggled David Briscoe off theship, 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 manytimes over. And now must he pay for this, too?

Raynor One strode toward them. "So it's really you. I thought it mightbe a trap, but Three wouldn't listen. Word came from Antares thatMontano had been arrested and his ship confiscated for illegal landingon Lharillis. I thought you were probably dead. "

"We sent a boy to do a man's job, " Raynor Three said, "and he came backa man. But tell me--" He looked curiously at Ringg and Meta. 

Bart introduced them, adding, "I came for help, really. I'm facingcharges, and I'm afraid you are, too. "

Raynor One said harshly, "A trap, after all, Three! He trapped you, andhe's led the Lhari to you!"

"No, " Raynor Three said, "or he wouldn't be walking around free andunguarded and with all his memories intact. Tell me about it, Bart. " Andwhen 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 horriblepart was only the way they were trying to keep it secret. "

Ringg interrupted, "Do not judge the Lhari by them, Raynor Three, " andRaynor Three said in good Lhari, "I don't, feathertop. Raynors have beenworking with Lhari since the days of Rhazon of Nedrus. But I wanted anopen, official statement of Lhari policy--not secret murders byfanatics. I had confidence in the Lhari as a people, but not inindividuals. What good did it do to know that the Lhari council inanother galaxy would have condemned the murders and manhunts, when theywere going on in this one, day after day?

"Don't you see, Bart?" he continued, "you didn't fail--not if we'regoing to have the publicity of a test case, publicly heard. That meansthe Lhari are prepared to admit, before our whole galaxy, that humans_can_ survive warp-drive without cold-sleep. That's all David Briscoewas 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, " RaynorOne said, "there's this. Among other things. Bart's not yet of legalage. You may not know this, Bart, but your father appointed me yourlegal guardian. When I turned you over to Three, I'm afraid, I assumedlegal responsibility for all the consequences. I ought to have kept youunder my own supervision. "

Bart smiled at Raynor One's stern face. "I crossed two galaxies, andfaced the Lhari High Council, without you to hold my hand. I can facethe Trade Federation. "

"Naturally I will be responsible for your defense, " Raynor One saidstiffly. 

"But I don't need a defense, " Bart said, turning to Raynor Three andmeeting his eyes. "I'm going to tell the truth, and let it stand. Don'tworry, I'll make sure they don't hold you responsible for my actions. "

"Another thing. Some lunatic from Capella arrived here and all butaccused 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 theLhari, while Meta and Ringg were both curious about how it had begun. 

Bart tried to forget that the next day might bring trouble, evenimprisonment. The Lhari Council had told him to talk as much as he likedabout his voyage, and this might be his only chance. When he hadfinished, Tommy leaned forward and gripped Bart's hand tightly. 

"You make them sound like pretty decent people, " he said, looking atRingg. "A year ago, if you'd told me I'd be here with a Lhari spacemanand 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 faintdiscolored scars on his brow, saying softly, "But for Bart, I would notbe here to greet anyone, man or Lhari, as friend. "

"So, " said Tommy triumphantly, "you haven't failed, even if you didn'tdiscover the secret of the Eighth Color--"

But a sudden, blinding light burst over Bart as Ringg moved his hand tothe scars. Once again he searched a cave beneath a green star, whereRingg lay unconscious and bleeding, and played his Lhari light fearfullyover a waterfall of colored minerals. _And there was one whose color hecould not identify--red, blue, violet, green, none of these_--the colorof an unknown star in an unknown galaxy, the shimmer of a landing Lhariship, the color of an unknown element in an unknown fuel--

"The secret of the Eighth Color, " he said, and stood up, his handsliterally shaking in excitement. "I'm an _idiot_! No, don't ask me anyquestions! 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 inthe room where the latter had told him of his father's death, where hehad first seen his terrifying Lhari face. They spoke little, but RaynorThree 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. Whereeveryone will hear me. "

Raynor Three looked at him curiously. "There's something you're nottelling, 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 Iasked. You've grown up. "

It was good to sleep in a soft human-type bed again, to eat breakfastand shave and dress in ordinary human clothing again. But Bart foldedhis Lhari tights and the cloak tenderly, with regret. They were thememory of an experience no one else would ever have. 

Raynor Three let him take the controls as they flew back to thespaceport city; and a little before noon they entered the great crystalpylon that was the headquarters of the Federation Trade Bureau onProcyon Alpha. Men and Lhari were moving in the lobby; among them Bartsaw Vorongil, Meta at his side. He smiled at her, received a wan smilein return. 

Would Vorongil feel that Bart had deceived him, betrayed him, when heheard Bart today?

In the hearing room, four white-crested Lhari sat across from fourdignified, well-dressed men, representatives of the Federation ofIntergalactic Trade. The space beyond was wholly filled with people, crowded together, and carrying stereo cameras, intercom equipment, thecreepie-peepie of the on-the-spot space commentator. 

"Mr. Steele, we had hoped to make this a quiet hearing, without unduepublicity. But we cannot deny the news media the privilege of coveringit, unless you wish to claim the right to privacy. "

"No, indeed, " Bart said clearly. "I want them all to hear what I'm goingto say. "

Raynor One came up to the bench. "Bart, as your guardian, I adviseagainst it. Some people will call this a publicity stunt. It won't doEight Colors any good to admit that men have been spying on the Lhari--"

"I want press coverage, " Bart repeated stubbornly, "and as manystar-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, hismeeting with Raynor One--carefully not implicating Raynor One in theplot--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 tothe account of the shift into warp-drive, he saw the faces of the pressreporters, and realized that for them this was the story of the year--orcentury: _humans can endure star-drive!_ But he went on, notsoft-pedaling Montano's attempted murder, his own choice, the trip tothe Lhari world--

One of the board representatives interrupted testily, "What is the pointof this lengthy narrative? You can give the story to the newsmen withoutour official sanction, if you want to make it a heroic epic, youngSteele. We have heard sufficient to prove your guilt, and that ofRaynor, in the violation of treaty--"

"Nevertheless, I want this official, " Bart said. "I don't want to bemobbed when they hear that I have the secret of the star-drive. "

The effect was electric. The four Lhari sat up; their white creststwitched. Vorongil stared, his gray eyes darkening with fear. One of theLhari leaned forward, shooting the question at him harshly. 

"You did _not_ discover the coordinates of the Council Planet of KeLhiro! You did not discover--"

"I did not, " Bart said quietly. "I don't know them and I have nointention of trying to find them. We don't need to go to the LhariGalaxy to find the mineral that generates the warp-frequencies, thatthey call 'Catalyst A' and that the Mentorians call the 'Eighth Color. 'There is a green star called Meristem, and a spectroscopic analysis ofthat star, I'm sure, will reveal what unknown elements it contains, andperhaps locate other stars with that element. There must be others inour 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 wasnothing of danger to us--"

Compassionately, gently, Bart said, "There wasn't--not that they knewabout, Vorongil. I didn't realize it myself. I might never haveremembered seeing a mineral that was of a color not found in thespectrum. Certainly, a memory like that meant nothing to the Lharimedics who emptied out my mind and turned over all my thoughts. YouLhari can't see color at all. 

"So no one but I saw the color of the mineral in the cave; you Lhariyourselves don't _know_ that your fuel looks unlike anything else in theuniverse. You never cared to find out how your world looked to yourMentorians. So your medics never questioned my memories of an eighthcolor. To you, it's just another shade of gray, but under a light strongenough to blind any but Mentorian eyes, it takes on a special color--"

The conference broke up in disorder, the four Lhari clustering togetherin a furious babble, then hastily leaving the room. Bart stood waiting, feeling empty and cold. Vorongil's stare baffled him with unreadableemotion. 

"You fool, you unspeakable young idiot!" Raynor One groaned. "Why didyou 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 VegaInterplanet!" As he saw the men of the press approaching with theirmicrophones, lights, cameras and TV equipment, he gripped Bart urgentlyby the arm. 

"We can still salvage something! Don't talk any more! Refer them tome--say I'm your guardian and your business manager--you can still makesomething of this--"

"That's just what I don't want to do, " Bart replied, and broke away fromhim 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 sawthe 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 toappear immediately before the World Council!"

He was to be asked one question again and again in the days thatfollowed, but his real answer was to Meta and Raynor Three, lookingquietly past Raynor One and speaking to the news cameras that wouldcarry his words all over the galaxy to men and Lhari:

"Why didn't I keep it for myself? Because there are always men likeMontano, who in their mistaken pride will murder and steal for suchthings. I want this knowledge to be open to all men, to be used fortheir benefit. There has been too much secrecy already. I want all mento have the stars. "

He had to tell his story again and again to the hastily summonedrepresentatives of the Galactic Federation. At one point the delegatefrom his home star of Vega actually rose and shouted to him, "This istreason! You betrayed your home world--and the whole human race! Don'tyou 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 thejourney from their home galaxy; meanwhile they kept Bart in protectivecustody. There was, of course, no question of sending him to a "prisonplanet"; public opinion would have crucified any government thatsuggested punishment for the man who had discovered a human world withdeposits of Catalyst A. Bart could claim an "explorer's share, " andRaynor 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 roomshigh in the building overlooking the spaceport; from the balcony hecould see the ships landing and departing. Life went on, ships came andwent, and out there in the vast night of space, the suns and colorsflamed and rolled, heedless of the little atoms that traveled andintrigued between them. 

A night came when the buzzer sounded and he opened the door to RaynorOne and Raynor Three. 

"Better turn on your vision-screen, Bart. The Elder of the Lhari Councilhas arrived with their official decision, and he's going to announceit. "

Bart waited, anxiously, pacing the room, while on the TV screen variousdignitaries presented the Elder. 

"We are the first race to travel the stars. " A bald head, an ancientLhari face seamed like glazed pottery, looked at Bart from the screen, and Bart remembered when he had stood before that face, sick withdefeat. But now he need not pretend to hold his head erect. 

"We have had a long and triumphant time as masters of the stars, " theLhari said. "But triumph and power will sicken and stagnate the racewhich holds them too long unchallenged. We reached this point oncebefore. Then a Lhari captain, Rhazon of Nedrun, abandoned the safe waysof caution, and out of his blind leap in the blind dark came many goodthings. Trade with the human race. Our Mentorian allies. A system ofmathematics to take the hazards from our star-travel. 

"Yet once again the Lhari had grown cautious and fearful. And a youngman named Bartol took a blind leap into unknown darkness, all alone--"

"Not alone, " Bart said as if to himself, "it took two men calledBriscoe. And my father. And a couple of Raynors. And even a man calledMontano, because without that, I'd never have decided--"

"Like Rhazon of Nedrun, like all pioneers, this young man has beencursed by his own people, the very ones who will one day benefit fromhis daring. He has found his people a firm footing among the stars. Itis too late for the Lhari to regret that we did not sooner extend youthe hand of welcome there. You have climbed, unaided, to join us. Forgood or ill, we must make room for you. 

"But there is room for all. Competition is the lifeblood of trade, andwe face the future without fear, knowing that life still holds manysurprises for the living. I say to you: welcome to the stars. "

Even while Bart stood speechless with the knowledge of success, the dooropened 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 thoughtyou'd hate me, _rieko mori_. " The term of respect fell naturally fromhis lips. 

"I did, for a time, " Vorongil said quietly. "But I remembered the day westood on Lharillis, by the monument. And that you risked--perhaps yourlife, certainly your eyesight--to save us from death. So when the Elderasked for my estimate of your people, I gave it. "

"I thought it sounded like you. " Bart felt that his happiness wascomplete. 

"And now, " Ringg cried, "let's celebrate! Meta, you haven't even toldhim that he's free!"

But while the party got rolling, Bart wondered--free for what? Andafter a little while he went out on the balcony and stood lookingdown at the spaceport, where the _Swiftwing_ lay in shadow, huge, beloved--renounced. 

"What now, Bartol?" Vorongil's quiet voice asked from his elbow. "You'refamous--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 outtonight, Bartol--for Antares and beyond. It will be a couple of yearsbefore your Eight Colors can be made over into an Interstellar line--andas Raynor One has said to me several times, he'll have to handle allthose details, for you're not of age yet. 

"I've been thinking. Now that we Lhari must share space with yourpeople, you'll need experienced men for your ships. Unless we all wantthe disasters born of trial and error, we Lhari had better help youtrain your men quickly and well. I want you to go back on the_Swiftwing_ with me. Not an apprentice, but representative of EightColors, to act as liaison between men and Lhari--at least until your ownaffairs claim your attention. "

Behind them on the balcony, Tommy appeared, making signals to Bart: "Sayyes! Say yes, Bart! _I_ did!"

Bart's eyes suddenly filled. Out of defeat he had won success beyond hisgreatest hopes. But he did not feel all glad; he felt only a heavyresponsibility. Whether good or bad came of the gift he had snatchedfrom the stars, would rest in large measure on his own shoulders. He wasgoing 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 exuberantcelebration, 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, frightenedand alone. _Dad, if you could only know!_ The first interstellar ship ofEight Colors was to bear the name _Rupert Steele_, but that was years inthe future. 

Now, looking at the _Swiftwing_, at Ringg and Tommy, at Raynor Three andVorongil, who would all be his shipmates in the new world they werebuilding, he felt suddenly very lonely again. 

"Come in, Bart. It's your party, " Meta said softly, and he felt her handlying in his. He looked down at the pretty Mentorian girl. She would bewith him, too. And suddenly he knew he would never be lonely again. 

His arm around Meta, his friends--man and Lhari--at his shoulder, hewent back to the celebration, to plan for the first intergalactic voyageto the stars. 

The End

 * * * * *

AUTHOR'S PROFILE

Marion Zimmer Bradley was born in Albany, New York and before shestarted her writing career she was a file clerk, music teacher and acarnival 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 writtenmore than 30 magazine stories and articles and has been writingprofessionally 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 FlyingEyes appeared and cast their hypnotic power over half the crowd. Thousands of people suddenly began marching zombie-like into the woodswhere they vanished into a black pit. 

Linc used every resource of the Space Research Lab and the NationalGuard to destroy the Eyes. But nothing could stop them, for they provedimmune to bullets and bombs. 

In desperation, Linc captured an Eye and found a way to communicate withit through his mind. He learned that radiation was fuel for thecreatures' lives. And then they issued their terrible ultimatum: Explodea series of atom bombs to supply them with radiation or they would turnthe world's population into mindless robots. 

It gave the world two harrowing choices--self-destruction via falloutfrom the bombs or annihilation via the sinister Flying Eyes. .. . 

 * * * * *

_The Dramatic Life Story Of The Second Most Powerful Man In Washington_

ROBERT F. KENNEDYAssistant President

By Gary Gordon

Author of THE RISE AND FALL OF THE JAPANESE EMPIRE

Whatever accomplishments can be attributed to John F. Kennedy, some ofthe credit must go to his brother Bobby, for, as campaign manager in thelast election, the younger Kennedy had a great deal to do with gettinghis brother nominated and then elected. 

Coming into prominence via his work as Chief Counsel to the McClellanCommittee, he has proven to be a tough fighter and the possessor of anoverwhelming will to win. Now, in his dual role as Attorney General andadviser to the President, he is a power to be reckoned with. 

Here is the life story of Robert F. Kennedy, the President's "chieftrouble-shooter, crisis smoother and selfless rooter" (_Look_); the manwho is "second only to the President in power and influence" (_U. S. Newsand World Report_): the man who may be eyeing the White House for hisown future occupancy. 

 * * * * *

_Dramatic True Tales Of Courageous Marines, Army, Air Force And Navy MenWhose 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. Everymilieu, every nationality seems to spawn, on occasion, a man capable ofaction 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 unforgettabledetail, showing the caliber of the men who served our country in time ofnational peril. 

 * * * * *

_Compelling Stories Of The Exploits Of Marine Winners Of TheCongressional 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 thanthe U. S. Marines. Rushed to the hot spots of the world in time of war, they hare consistently shown a disdain for personal safety, alwaysplaying a vital role in our country's victories. 

Standing even taller, were the men among them who somehow managed to beheroes among heroes, men whose exploits were extraordinary--theCongressional Medal of Honor winners. 

A total of 234 Marines have been awarded The Congressional Medal ofHonor. Here in this dramatic book are exciting, personalized accounts ofsome of the most courageous exploits of the heroes of the greatestfighting 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 againstsocialism--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 chaosin 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