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Updated: June 17, 2025
Two enormous Lhari came in to look at him every hour or so, but either they were deaf and dumb, did not understand his dialect of Lhari, or were under orders not to speak to him. It was the most frustrating time of his entire voyage. One day it ended. A Lhari and a Mentorian came for him and took him down elevators and up stairs, and into a quiet, neutral room where four Lhari were gathered.
Bart's legs were numb and his hands tingled when he sat up; but his body processes had been slowed so much by the cold-sleep that he didn't even feel hungry; the synthetic jelly he'd eaten just before going to sleep wasn't even digested yet. When the Mentorian left for another cabin, Bart looked around, and suddenly felt he would stifle if he stayed here another minute.
"He knows it would make poor old Rugel feel as if he wasn't good for much to order him into his bunk and make him take dope like a Mentorian for every warp-shift. So we have this to go through at every jump!" He sounded cross and disgusted, but there was a rough, boyish gentleness as he hauled the blanket over the bald old Lhari. He looked up, almost shyly. "Thanks for helping me with Old Baldy.
"As much as any Mentorian." Bart found he could move his right arm, and twitched the bandage away. Vorongil and the medic stood over him; in the other infirmary bunk a form was lying, covered with a white sheet. Sickly, Bart wondered if they had found Montano. Vorongil followed the direction of his eyes. "Yes," he said, and his voice held deep bitterness, "poor old Rugel is dead.
You mention entirely too many names, but I notice you aren't giving out any further information." "I'm looking for a man called Rupert Steele." "I thought you were looking for Raynor Three," said Raynor One, staring at the Mentorian cloak. "I can think of a lot of people who might want to know how I react to certain names, and find out if I know the wrong people, if they are the wrong people.
Before long, the complex hydrocarbons and cellulose would all be innocent little molecules of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen; they might turn up in new combinations as sugar on the table! The Mentorian grumbled, "You young people think the rules mean everybody but you," and strapped him far too tightly into the bunk.
"That's an order," snapped the officer, "do you think, on this pestilential unlucky planet, we can afford any more bad luck? Metals fatigue, Karol burned so badly the medic thinks he may never use his hand again, and now you and Ringg getting yourselves laid up and out of action? The medic will help me with Ringg; that Mentorian girl can look after you. Get moving!"
She looked at Bart in his Lhari clothing, at Meta in her Mentorian robe and cloak, at Ringg, and her unruffled dignity did not turn a hair. "May I help you?" she inquired, still not caring. "I want to see Raynor One." "On what business, please?" "Tell him," said Bart, with immense satisfaction, "that his boss is here Bart Steele and wants to see him right away."
She was a Mentorian, and she was human, and Bart's eyes rested with comfort on her face; she, on the other hand, was looking up with anxiety and uneasy distrust. That's right I'm a Lhari, a nonhuman freak! "I seem to have missed my way." "What are you looking for, sir? The medical quarters are through here." "I'm looking for the elevator down to the crew exits."
They could have made me admire or be loyal to the Lhari. They didn't. I'm still me. "I'm ready now." He got up, reeled and had to lean on the Mentorian; his feet did not seem to touch the ground in quite the right way. After a minute he could walk steadily, and followed the Mentorian along a corridor.
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