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Updated: May 9, 2025
"Captain, everybody on the Swiftwing " "And speak Lhari!" Vorongil demanded, and Bart realized that in his excitement he had been shouting in Universal. He drew a long, deep breath. "Captain, there are lethal radiations being released here," he said. "You have just barely half an hour to gather all the men and get them behind shielding."
Dad, if you could only know! The first interstellar ship of Eight Colors was to bear the name Rupert Steele, but that was years in the future. Now, looking at the Swiftwing, at Ringg and Tommy, at Raynor Three and Vorongil, who would all be his shipmates in the new world they were building, he felt suddenly very lonely again. "Come in, Bart.
After the warp-drive shift, Vorongil came to his cabin, this time crisp and businesslike. "We're back in your galaxy," he said, "among the stars you know. We have no passenger space on the Swiftwing; we had to ship out without replacing Rugel, which means we're short two men. I've no authority to ask this of you, but would you like your old job back for the rest of the voyage?"
So someone forgot the panel, or damaged the panel by mistake no, not another word," he commanded, as Ringg's crest came proudly up. "I don't care who did what! Any more of this, and the one who does it can try his claws on the captain of the Swiftwing!" He looked ugly and dangerous. "I thought better of you both. Get below, you squalling kittens! Let me not see your faces again before we land!"
"But some of the older generation I had a professor in training school, funny old chap, bald as the hull of the Swiftwing. Taught us cosmic-ray analysis, and what he didn't know about spiral nebulae could be engraved on my fifth toe-claw, and he'd never been off the face of the planet. Not even to one of the moons!
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.
You worked your way outward on this run, and the High Council didn't see fit to erase those memories or inhibit them. Why should I? Do you want it or not?" Did he want it? Until this moment Bart had not identified the worst of his pain and defeat to travel as a passenger, a supercargo, when he had once been part of the Swiftwing. Literally he ached to be back with it again. "I do, rieko mori."
Then Alpha faded to a dim bluish shimmer, Beta was eclipsed, Gamma was gone, Procyon dimmed to a failing spark; and suddenly Bart's memory accustomed itself to the load, the new habits were firmly in place, and he found himself eating, sleeping and working in a settled routine. He belonged to the Swiftwing now.
Beyond an expanse of black, glassy floor, he saw a low semicircular table, behind which sat eight Lhari. All wore pale robes with high collars that rose stiffly behind their domed heads; all were old, their faces lined with many wrinkles, and seven of the eight were as bald as the hull of the Swiftwing. Under their eyes he hesitated; then, unexpectedly, pride stiffened his back.
"I think every man on board feels that way, a little, only he won't admit it." His slanted gray eyes looked quickly at Bart and away. "I guess we're almost down to L-point. Better check the panel and report nulls, so medic can wake up the Mentorians." The Swiftwing moved on between the stars.
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