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Updated: June 1, 2025
They're proud of saying no human foot has ever touched Lharillis." When he got back to the Lhari spaceport, Ringg hailed him. "Where have you been? I hunted the whole port for you! I wouldn't join the party till you came. What's a pal for?" Bart brushed by him without speaking, disregarding Ringg's surprised stare, and went up the ramp.
His crest was not the high, fluffy white of a young Lhari, but broken short near the scalp, grayish pink showing through, the little feathery ends yellowed with age. He growled, "Come in then, don't stand there. I suppose Ringg's told you what a tyrant I am? What do you want, feathertop?" Bart remembered being told that this was the Lhari equivalent of "Kid" or "Youngster."
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.
Ringg surveyed him wonderingly, shaking his head. "Say something," he implored, "so I'll know you're Bartol." Bart held out his arm, less gray by the day as the drug wore out of his system. The thin line of the scar was still on it. He raised his forefinger lightly to the fine line on Ringg's cheek. "I couldn't return that now. So let's not get into any more fights."
One glance at Ringg's bleeding face and Bart's ripped forearm, and he did not pause for breath for a good fifteen minutes. By the time he finished, Bart felt he would rather Ringg's claws had laid him bleeding to the bone than stand there in the naked contempt of the old Lhari's freezing eyes. "Half-fledged nestlings trying to do a man's work!
He ran back to him, dropping to his knees at Ringg's side. "It's all right, Ringg, lie still. We're under cover now." "Wha' happened?" Ringg said blurrily. "Head hurts all sparks all the pretty lights can't see you!" He fumbled with loose, uncoordinated fingers at his head and Bart grabbed at him before he poked a claw in his eye. "Don't do that," Ringg complained, "can't see "
Rugel left him in a cabin amidships; small and cramped, but tidy, two of the oval bunks slung at opposite ends, a small table between them, and drawers filled with pamphlets and manuals and maps. Furtively, ashamed of himself, yet driven by necessity, Bart searched Ringg's belongings, wanting to get some idea of what possessions he ought to own.
It's bigger than you are, or any of the others.... He was beginning to think it was a lot too big for him. The green-sun Meristem lay far behind them. Karol's burns had healed; only a faint pattern on Ringg's forehead showed where six stitches had closed the ugly wound in his skull. Bart's wrist, after a few days of nightmarish pain when he tried to pick up anything heavy, had healed.
Not a Mentorian assistant, half-trusted, half-tolerated, but one of the crew themselves. If I'm lucky, he reminded himself grimly. There was Lhari, in the black-banded officer's cloak, at the doorway. He glanced at Ringg's papers. "Friend of mine," Ringg said, and Bart proffered his folder. The Lhari gave it a casual glance, handed it back. "Old Baldy on board?" Ringg asked. "Where else?"
Bart felt the heavenly warmth close around him with a sigh of pure relief, but the Second Officer, coming up the hatchway, stopped in consternation: "You're covered with blood! The hailstorm " "I'm all right," Bart said, "but Ringg's been hurt. You'll need a stretcher." Quickly, he explained. "I'll come with you and show you " "You'll do no such thing," the officer said.
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