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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 Bald One was in a good temper. I'm going to the port and celebrate, not that this 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," Ringg said.
He was not on watch when they came into the planetary field of Lharillis, but when he came on shift, he knew at once that the trouble had been located. The panel was pulled open, the exposed wires hanging, and Ringg was facing old Rugel, shouting, "Listen, Baldy, I won't have you accusing me of going light on my work! I checked those panels eight days ago!
Later, when Acceleration One had reached its apex and the artificial gravity made the ship a place of comfort again, he went down to the dining hall with Ringg and met the crew of the Swiftwing.
Every time, though, we find some new lichen that's trying to set up a symbiote cycle with the concrete of our bunkers." "And every time," Ringg said cheerfully, "somebody usually me has to see about having them scraped down and repainted. Maybe someday I'll find a paint the lichens don't like the taste of." "Going to explore with Ringg?"
If you do something differently, they'll just think you'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 to know how you found it out.
This is the long run we're making, out to 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 the port about Klanerol jumping ship, or whatever happened to him, we'll all have to walk wide of his temper." Bart was beginning to relax a little; Ringg apparently accepted him without scrutiny.
You're Rupert Steele's son, and you're here to carry on what your father left undone, aren't you? If you fail now, there may not be another chance for years maybe not in our lifetimes." Bart dropped his head in his hands. Kill a whole shipload of Lhari innocent traders? Bald, funny old Rugel, stern Vorongil, Ringg "I don't know what to do!" It was a cry of despair.
"I suppose somebody gossiped, or one of those fool Mentorians picked it up. Got your papers? What rating?" "Astrogator first class." "Klanerol was second, but you can't have everything, I suppose." Ringg led the way through the arcades, out across a guarded sector, passing half a dozen of the huge ships lying in their pits. Finally Ringg stopped and pointed. "This is the old hulk."
"I accept," he said gravely. "Oh, boy!" Tommy dragged Ringg into a sort of war dance of exuberant celebration, 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, frightened and alone.
"But there is room for all. Competition is the lifeblood of trade, and we face the future without fear, knowing that life still holds many surprises for the living. I say to you: welcome to the stars." Even while Bart stood speechless with the knowledge of success, the door opened again, and Bart, turning, cried out in amazement. "Tommy! Ringg! Meta!"
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