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In pure reflex he felt his own claws flick out; they clinched, closed, scuffled, and he felt his claws rake flesh; half incredulous, saw the thin red line of blood welling from Ringg's cheek. Then Rugel's arms were flung restrainingly around him, and the Second Officer was wrestling with a furious, struggling Ringg.
Ringg added. "You know that Mentorian the young one, the medic's assistant?" "I've seen her. Her name's Meta, I think." Suddenly, Bart wished the Mentorian girl were with him here. It would be nice to hear a human voice. "Oh, is it a female? Mentorians all look alike to me," Ringg said, while Bart controlled his face with an effort.
Bart was just beginning to wonder if he might kiss her when the infirmary door opened and Ringg stood in the doorway, staring at them with surprise, shock and revulsion. Bart realized, suddenly, how it must look to Ringg who certainly shared Meta's prejudice but even as he comprehended it, Ringg's face altered. Meta slipped from Bart's arms and rose, but Ringg came slowly a step into the room.
Someday we'll reach true simultaneity enter warp, and come out just where we want to be, at the same time. Just a split-second interval. That will be real transmission." Ringg scoffed, "And suppose you get even better and come out of warp before you go into it? What then, Honorable Bald One?" Rugel chuckled, and did not answer. Bart turned away. It was not easy to keep on hating the Lhari.
"Bartol was on watch alone one night," said the Second Officer, "but you wouldn't meddle with panels, would you, Bartol?" Bart set his teeth, steadying his breathing, as Ringg turned hopefully to him. "Bartol, did you by mistake, maybe? Because if you did, it won't count against your rating, but it means a black mark against mine!" Bart hid his self-contempt in sudden, tense fury. "No, I didn't!
He fumbled in the capacious folds of his cloak for his papers. His voice sounded shrill, even to himself. "Bartol son of Berihun in respectful greeting, rieko mori." Unmistakably, Vorongil's snort was laughter. "So you've been talking, Ringg?" Ringg retorted, "Better that I tell one man than that you have to hunt the planet over or run the long haul with the drive-room watches short by one man."
As far as I'm concerned, it still is real." Ringg was still bending over Meta's hand when Vorongil came into the cabin. He started to speak, then noticed Ringg. "I might have known," he growled, "if there was anything to find out, you'd find it." "Shall I go, rieko mori?" "No, stay. You'll find it out some way or other, you might as well get it right the first time.
He sounded so concerned, so the word struck Bart with hysterical humor so fatherly, that Bart wanted insanely to laugh and to cry. Instead he muttered, "Ringg should mind his own business." "But it's not like that," Vorongil said. "Look, the Swiftwing's a world, young fellow, and a small one. If one being in that world is unhappy, it affects everyone."
He raised his head and yelled at Ringg, "Yes, there is something! You can quit following me around and just let me alone for a change!" Ringg took a step backward. Then he said, very softly, "Suit yourself, Bartol. Sorry." And noiselessly, his white crest held high, he glided away. Bart's resolve hardened.
Ringg raised his hands to his own face curiously. "I wonder what sort of human I'd make?" He looked at Meta's small fingers. "Not that I'd ever have the nerve. But then, it's no surprise to anyone that you have courage, Bartol." "You seem to accept it " "It's a shock," said Ringg honestly, "it scares me a little. But I'm remembering the friendship. That was real.
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