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Updated: June 16, 2025
He must have a bad concussion then. That's a nasty cut. Gently, he restrained the Lhari boy's hands. "Bartol, what happened?" Bart explained. Ringg tried to move, but fell limply back. "Weren't you hurt? I thought I heard you cry out." "A cut or two, but nothing serious," Bart said. "I think the hail's stopped. Lie still, I'd better go back to the ship and get help."
Sometimes we Mentorians call it catalyst color. I think only Mentorians can see it as separate color." "So what?" Ringg said impatiently, "What are we going to do, chatter about light waves or see the city?" Bart acquiesced, trying to sound eager, but a wild excitement was gusting up in him.
A few slender, drooping, gold-leaved trees bent graceful branches over a pool. Bart stood fascinated by the play of green sunlight on the emerald ripples, but Ringg flung himself down full length on the soft grass and sighed comfortably. "Feels good." "Too comfortable to eat?" They munched in companionable silence. "Look," said Ringg at last, pointing toward the cliffs, "Holes in the rocks. Caves.
As they went along the corridor, Ringg turned to Bart, apology and chagrin in his eyes. "Look I never meant to get the Bald One down on us," he said, but Bart kept his face resolutely averted. It was easier this way, without pretense of friendship. The light from the small captive sun grew more intense.
He flinched as something hard struck his arm. "Ouch! What was that?" Ringg cried out in pain. "It's hail!" Sharp pieces of ice were suddenly pelting, raining down all around them, splattering the ground with a harsh, bouncing clatter. Ringg yelled, "Come on it's big enough to flatten you!" It looked to Bart as if it were at least golf-ball size, and seemed to be getting bigger by the moment.
Once again he searched a cave beneath a green star, where Ringg lay unconscious and bleeding, and played his Lhari light fearfully over a waterfall of colored minerals. And there was one whose color he could not identify red, blue, violet, green, none of these the color of an unknown star in an unknown galaxy, the shimmer of a landing Lhari ship, the color of an unknown element in an unknown fuel
The horrible part was only the way they were trying to keep it secret." Ringg interrupted, "Do not judge the Lhari by them, Raynor Three," and Raynor Three said in good Lhari, "I don't, feathertop. Raynors have been working with Lhari since the days of Rhazon of Nedrus. But I wanted an open, official statement of Lhari policy not secret murders by fanatics.
Procyon was almost lost in the viewports when a sort of upswept tempo began to run through the ship, an undercurrent of increased activity. Cargo was checked, inventoried and strapped in. Ringg was given four extra men to help him, made an extra tour of the ship, and came back buzzing like a frantic cricket.
He reached his own cabin and threw himself down in his bunk, torn in two. Ringg was his friend! Ringg liked him! And if he did what Montano wanted, Ringg would die. Ringg had followed him, and was standing in the cabin door, watching him in surprise. "Bartol, is something the matter? Is there anything I can do? Have you had more bad news?" Bart's torn nerves snapped.
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 "
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