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Updated: June 16, 2025
Loneliness had done odd things to him thinking of Ringg, a Lhari, one of the freaks who had killed his father, as a friend! If they knew who he was, they would turn on him, hunt him down as they'd hunted Briscoe, as they'd hunted his father, as they'd hounded him from Earth to Procyon. He put his scruples aside. He'd made up his mind. They could all die. What did he care?
When there were twelve signed in, of course, the old chap would go up to bed, and late that night the one who stayed in would sneak down and let us in." Ringg sat up suddenly, touching his cheek. "Was that a drop of rain? And the sun's gone. I suppose we ought to start back, though I hate to leave those caves unexplored." Bart bent to gather up the debris of their meal.
"Ringg, you're the fatigue expert. I'll take your word for it. Can we make thirty hours?" Ringg looked pale and there was none of his usual boyish nonsense when he said, "Captain, I swear I wouldn't risk Cottman. You know what crystallization's like, sir. We can't get through that hull lining to repair it in space, if it does go before we land.
His bones itched inside and he was damnably uncomfortable, but he was alive. "I'm fine." "You look it," Ringg said in derision. "Think you can help me get Rugel to his cabin?" Bart struggled to his feet, and found that when he was upright he felt better. "Wow!" he muttered, then clamped his mouth shut. He was supposed to be an experienced man, a Lhari hardened to space.
He said woozily, "How long was I out?" "The usual time," Ringg said briskly, "about three seconds just while we hit peak warp-drive. Feels longer, so they tell me, sometimes time's funny, beyond light-speeds. The medic says it's purely psychological. I'm not so sure. I itch, blast it!" He moved his shoulders in a squirming way, then bent over Rugel, who was moaning, half insensible.
He had gray skin and long claws and white hair, just the way I once had pinkish skin and short fingernails and reddish hair, but the difference wasn't that I was human inside and he wasn't. If you skinned Ringg, and skinned me, we'd be almost identical. And all of a sudden then, Ringg and Vorongil and all the rest were men to me. Just people.
"Give me a hand and I can walk," Ringg said, but when he tried to sit up, he flinched, and Bart said, "You'd better lie still." He knew that head injuries should be kept very quiet; he was almost afraid to leave Ringg for fear the Lhari boy would have another delirious fit and hurt himself, but there was no help for it.
He saw Bartol and called, "Are you the new First Class? I'm Rugel, coordinator." Rugel had a huge cleft darkish scar across his lip, and there were two bands on his cloak. He was completely bald, and he puffed when he walked. "Vorongil asked me to show you around. You'll share quarters with Ringg no sense shifting another man.
"I've been yelling for a new cable for six months." He turned. "Take it easy, Bartol; don't let Vorongil scare you. He likes to hear the sound of his own voice, but we'd all walk out the lock without spacesuits for him." The elevator slid to a stop. The sign in Lhari letters said Level of Administration Officers' Deck. Ringg pushed at a door and said, "Captain Vorongil?"
There came a day when he came on watch to see drawn, worried faces; and when Ringg came into the drive room they threw their levers on automatic and crowded around him, their crests bobbing in question and dismay. Vorongil seemed to emit sparks as he barked at Ringg, "You found it?" "I found it. Inside the hull lining." Vorongil swore, and Ringg held up a hand in protest.
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