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Updated: May 15, 2025
Bart waited for Ringg to order, and ordered what he did. When it came, it was a sort of egg-and-fish casserole which Bart found extremely tasty, and he dug into it with pleasure. Allowing for the claws, Lhari table manners were not so much different from human and remember, their customs differ as much as ours do.
Bart got up and washed his face, remembering that he had no luggage with him, not so much as a toothbrush. At the back of his mind, packed up in a corner, was the continuing worry about his father, the horror at Briscoe's ghastly death, the fear of the Lhari; but he slammed the lid firmly on them all. For the moment he was safe.
He looked around the shower and toilet facilities with extra care this was something he couldn't slip up on and be considered even halfway normal. He was afraid Ringg would come in, and see him staring curiously at something as ordinary, to a Lhari, as a cake of soap. He decided to go down to the port again and look around the shops. He was not afraid of being unable to handle his work.
Should a few Lhari stand in his way? He lay in his bunk brooding, thinking of death, staring at the yellow radiation badge. If you fail, it won't be in our lifetime. He'd have to go back to little things, to the little ships that hauled piddling cargo between little planets, while all the grandeur of the stars belonged to the Lhari.
"Well, Bart Steele, alias Bartol son of Berihun," said one old Lhari, "what have you to say for yourself?" Bart stood silent, not moving. What could he say that would not reveal how desperately alone, how young and foolish and frightened he felt? All his brave resolutions seemed to drain away before their old, gnomish faces.
Now Tommy, who had been born on the ninth planet of the star Capella, was taking the Lhari starship to his faraway home, and Bart's father was coming back to Earth, on the same starship, to meet his son. Five years, Bart thought. That's a long time. I wonder if Dad will know me? "Let me give you a hand with that stuff, Tommy." "I can manage," Tommy chuckled, hefting the plastic cases.
Your mother never said much about your Mentorian family tree, I suppose? She was a Raynor." He smiled at Bart, a little ruefully. "I won't claim a kinsman's privileges until you decide how much to trust me." Raynor Three settled back. "It's a long story and I only know part of it," he began. "Our family, the Raynors, have traded with the Lhari for more generations than I can count.
He was armed, this time, with the energon-beam that was part of his uniform. Montano had evidently forgotten it. Could he kill Montano? Even to save two dozen Lhari? He reached hesitantly toward the beam-gun, quickly thumbed the catch down to the lowest point, which was simple shock. He froze as Montano looked in his direction, hand out of sight under his cloak. "How many Lhari on board?"
If he comes through here, we'll catch him easily enough while he's stumbling around half blind. You know that you shouldn't stay long." He gestured. "Out this way and don't come back without special lenses." Bart nodded, jerking the cloak around his shoulders, forcing himself not to break into a run as he stepped through the door the Lhari indicated. It closed behind him.
The hatch opened. Even accustomed, as he was, to Lhari lights, Bart squeezed his eyes shut at the blue-white brilliance that assaulted him now. Then, opening slitted lids cautiously, he found that he could see. A weirdly desolate scene stretched away before them.
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