CHAPTER ELEVEN
But although he thought he had settled all the conflict, he found thatit returned when he was lying in his bunk, or when he stood in the domeand watched the stars, while they moved through the Antares systemtoward the captive sun and the tiny planet Lharillis.
_It's in my power to give this to all men...._
Should a few Lhari stand in his way?
He lay in his bunk brooding, thinking of death, staring at the yellowradiation badge. _If you fail, it won't be in our lifetime._ He'd haveto go back to little things, to the little ships that hauled piddlingcargo between little planets, while all the grandeur of the starsbelonged to the Lhari. And if he succeeded, Vega Interplanet couldspread from star to star, a mighty memorial to Rupert Steele.
One day Vorongil sent for him. "Bartol," he said, and his voice was notunkind, "you and Ringg have always been good friends, so don't be angryabout this. He's worried about you--says you spend all your spare timein your bunk growling at him. Is there anything the matter, feathertop?"
He sounded so concerned, so--the word struck Bart with hystericalhumor--so _fatherly_, that Bart wanted insanely to laugh and to cry.Instead he muttered, "Ringg should mind his own business."
"But it's not like that," Vorongil said. "Look, the _Swiftwing_'s aworld, young fellow, and a small one. If one being in that world isunhappy, it affects everyone."
Bart had an absurd, painful impulse--to blurt out the incredible truthto Vorongil, and try to get the old Lhari to understand what he wasdoing.
But fear held him silent. He was alone, one small human in a ship ofLhari. Vorongil was frowning at him, and Bart mumbled, "It's nothing,_rieko mori_."
"I suppose you're pining for home," Vorongil said kindly. "Well, itwon't be long now."
The glare of the captive sun grew and grew in the ports, and Bart'sdread mounted. He had, as yet, had no opportunity to put the radiationcounter out of order. It was behind a panel in the drive room, and tryas he might, he could think of no way to get to it unobserved.Sometimes, in sleepless nights, it seemed that would be the best way.Just let it go. But then the Lhari would detect Montano's ship, and killMontano and his men.
Did he believe that? He had to believe it. It was the only way he couldpossibly justify what he was doing.
And then his chance came, as so many chances do when one no longer wantsthem. The Second Officer met him at the beginning of one watch, sayingworriedly, "Bartol, old Rugel's sick--not fit to be on his feet. Do youthink you can hold down this shift alone, if I drop in and give you ahand from time to time?"
"I think so," Bart said, carefully not overemphasizing it. The SecondOfficer, by routine, spent half of his time in the drive room, and halfhis time down below in Maintenance. When he left, Bart knew he wouldhave at least half an hour, uninterrupted, in the drive room. He rippedopen the panel, located the wires and hesitated; he didn't quite dare tocut them outright.
He jerked one wire loose, frayed the other with a sharp claw until itwas almost in shreds and would break with the first surge of current,pulled two more connections loose so that they were not making fullcontact. He closed the panel and brushed dust over it, and when theSecond Officer came back, Bart was at his own station.
As Antares fell toward them in the viewport, he found himself worryingabout Mentorians. They would be in cold sleep, presumably in a safe partof the ship, behind shielding, or Montano would have made provisions forthem. Still, he wished there were a way to warn Meta.
He was not on watch when they came into the planetary field ofLharillis, but when he came on shift, he knew at once that the troublehad been located. The panel was pulled open, the exposed wires hanging,and Ringg was facing old Rugel, shouting, "Listen, Baldy, I won't haveyou accusing me of going light on my work! I checked those panels eightdays ago! Tell me who's going to be opening the panels in here anyhow?"
"No, no," Rugel said patiently, "I'm not accusing you of anything, onlybeing careless, young Ringg. You poke with those buzzing instruments andthings, maybe once you tear loose some wires."
Bart remembered he wasn't supposed to know what was going on. "What'sthis all about?"
It was Rugel who answered. "The radiation counter--the planetary one,not the one we use in space--is out of order. We don't even need it thislanding--there's no radiation on Lharillis. If it were the landing gear,now, that would be serious. I'm just trying to tell Ringg--"
"He's trying to say I didn't check it." Ringg was not to be calmed."It's my professional competence--"
"Forget it," Bart said. "If Rugel isn't sore about it, and if we don'tneed it for landing, why worry?" He felt like Judas.
"Just take a look at my daybook," Ringg insisted, "I checked and markedit _service fit_! I tell you, somebody was blundering around, openingpanels where they had no business, tore it out by accident, then was toomuch of a filthy sneak to report it and get it fixed!"
"Bartol was on watch alone one night," said the Second Officer, "but youwouldn't meddle with panels, would you, Bartol?"
Bart set his teeth, steadying his breathing, as Ringg turned hopefullyto him. "Bartol, did you--by mistake, maybe? Because if you did, itwon't count against your rating, but it means a black mark againstmine!"
Bart hid his self-contempt in sudden, tense fury. "No, I didn't! You'regoing to accuse everybody on the _Swiftwing_, all the way from me toVorongil, before _you_ can admit a mistake, aren't you? If you wantsomebody to blame, look in a mirror!"
"Listen, you!" Ringg's pent-up rage exploded. He seized Bart by theshoulder and Bart moved to throw him off, so that Ringg's outthrustclaws raked only his forearm. In pure reflex he felt his own claws flickout; they clinched, closed, scuffled, and he felt his claws rake flesh;half incredulous, saw the thin red line of blood welling from Ringg'scheek.
Then Rugel's arms were flung restrainingly around him, and the SecondOfficer was wrestling with a furious, struggling Ringg. Bart looked athis red-tipped claws in ill-concealed horror, but it was lost in ageneral gasp of consternation, for Vorongil had flung the drive roomdoor open, taking in the scene in one blistering glance.
_"What's going on down here?"_
For the first time, Bart understood Vorongil's reputation as a tyrant.One glance at Ringg's bleeding face and Bart's ripped forearm, and hedid not pause for breath for a good fifteen minutes. By the time hefinished, Bart felt he would rather Ringg's claws had laid him bleedingto the bone than stand there in the naked contempt of the old Lhari'sfreezing eyes.
"Half-fledged nestlings trying to do a man's work! So someone forgot thepanel, or damaged the panel by mistake--no, not another word," hecommanded, 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 thecaptain of the _Swiftwing_!" He looked ugly and dangerous. "I thoughtbetter of you both. Get below, you squalling kittens! Let me not seeyour faces again before we land!"
As they went along the corridor, Ringg turned to Bart, apology andchagrin in his eyes. "Look--I never meant to get the Bald One down onus," he said, but Bart kept his face resolutely averted. It was easierthis way, without pretense of friendship.
* * * * *
The light from the small captive sun grew more intense. Bart had neverknown anything like it, and was glad to slip away and put the darkcontact lenses into his eyes. They made his eyes appear all enormous,dilated pupil; fearfully, he hoped no one would notice. His arm smarted,and he did not speak to Ringg all through the long, slow deceleration.
When the intercom ordered all crew members to the hatchway, Bartlingered a minute, pinning the yellow radiation badge in a fold of hiscloak. A spasm of fear threatened to overwhelm him again, andnightmarish loneliness. He felt agonizingly homesick for his ownfamiliar face. It seemed almost more than he could manage, to step outinto the corridor full of Lhari.
_It won't be long now._
The hatch opened. Even accustomed, as he was, to Lhari lights, Bartsqueezed his eyes shut at the blue-wh
ite brilliance that assaulted himnow. Then, opening slitted lids cautiously, he found that he could see.
A weirdly desolate scene stretched away before them. Bare, burning sand,strewn with curiously colored rocks, lay piled in strange chaos; then herealized there was an odd, but perceptible geometry to theirarrangement. They showed alternate crystal and opaque faces. Old Rugelnoted his look of surprise.
"Never been here before? That's right, you've always worked on thePolaris run. Well, those aren't true rocks, but living creatures of asort. The crystals are alive; the opaque faces are lichens that havesomething like chlorophyll and can make their food from air andsunlight. The rocks and lichens live in symbiosis. They haveintelligence of a sort, but fortunately they don't mind us, or ourautomatic mining machinery. Every time, though, we find some new lichenthat's trying to set up a symbiote cycle with the concrete of ourbunkers."
"And every time," Ringg said cheerfully, "somebody--usually me--has tosee about having them scraped down and repainted. Maybe someday I'llfind a paint the lichens don't like the taste of."
"Going to explore with Ringg?" Rugel asked, and Ringg, always ready tolet bygones be bygones, grinned and said, "Sure!" Bart could not facehim.
Vorongil stopped and said, "This your first time here, young Bartol? Howwould you like to visit the monument with me? You can see the machineryon the way back."
Relieved at not having to go with Ringg, he followed the captain,falling into step beside him. They moved in silence, along the smoothstone path.
"The crystal creatures made this road," Vorongil said at last. "I thinkthey read minds a little. There used to be a very messy, rocky deserthere, and we used to have to scrabble and scratch our way to themonument. Then one day a ship--not mine--touched down and discoveredthat there was a beautiful smooth road leading up to the monument. Andthe lichens never touch that stone--but you probably had all this inschool. Excited, Bartol?"
"No--no, sir. Why?"
"Eyes look a bit odd. But who could blame you for being excited? I nevercome here without remembering Rhazon and his crew on that long jump. Thelongest any Lhari captain ever made. A blind leap in the dark, remember,Bartol. Through the dark, through the void, with his own crew cursinghim for taking the chance! No one had ever crossed between galaxies--andremember, they were using the Ancient Math!"
He paused, and Bart said through a catch of breath. "Quite anachievement." His badge still looked reassuringly yellow.
"You young people have no sense of wonder," Vorongil said. "Not that Iblame you. You can't realize what it was like in those days. Oh, we'dhad star-travel for centuries, we were beginning to stagnate. And nowlook at us! Oh, they derided Rhazon--said that even if he did findanyone, any other race, they'd be monsters with whom we could nevercommunicate. But here we have a whole new galaxy for peaceful trade, anew mathematics that takes all the hazard out of space travel, ourMentorian friends and allies." He smiled. "Don't tell the High Councilon me, but I think they deserve a lot more credit than most Lhari careto give them. Between ourselves, I think the next Panarch may see itthat way."
Vorongil paused. "Here's the monument."
It lay between the crystal columns, tall, of pale blue sandstone, withletters in deep shadow of such contrast that the Lhari could read them:a high, sheer, imposing stele. Vorongil read the words slowly aloud inthe musical Lhari language:
"'Here, with thanks to Those who Watch the Great Night, I, Rhazon ofNedrun, raise a stone of memory. Here we first do touch the new worlds.Let us never again fear to face the unknown, trusting that the Mind ofAll Knowledge still has many surprises in store for all the living.'
"I think I admire courage more than anything there is, Bartol. Who elsecould have dared it? Doesn't it make you proud to be a Lhari?"
Bart had felt profoundly moved; now he snapped back to awareness of whohe was and what he was doing. So only the Lhari had courage? _Life hassurprises, all right, Captain_, he thought grimly.
He glanced down at the badge strip of plastic on his arm. It began totinge faint orange as he looked, and a chill of fear went over him. Hehad to get away somehow--get to cover!
He looked round and his fear was almost driven from his mind. "Captain,the rocks! They're moving!"
Vorongil said, unruffled, "Why, so they are. They do, you know; theyhave intelligence of a sort. Though I've never actually _seen_ them movebefore, I know they shift places overnight. I wonder what's going on?"They were edging back, the path widening and changing. "Oh, well, maybethey're going to do some more landscaping for us. I once knew a captainwho swore they could read his mind."
Bart saw the slow, inexorable deepening of his badge--he _had_ to getaway. He tensed, impatient; gripped by fists of panic. Somewhere on thisworld, Montano and his men were setting up their lethal radiations....
_Think of this: a Lhari ship of our own to study, to know how it works,to see the catalyst and find out where it comes from, to read theirrecords and star routes. Now we know we can use it without dying in thewarp-drive...._
_Think of this: to be human again, yet to travel the stars with men ofmy own race!_
_It's worth a few deaths!_
Even Vorongil? Standing here, talking to him, he might--_say it! Youtalked to him as if he'd been your father! Oh, Dad, Dad, what would youdo?_
His voice was steady, as he said, "It's very good of you to show me allthis, sir, but the other men will call me a slacker. Hadn't I better getto a work detail?"
"Hm, maybe so, feathertop," Vorongil said. "Let me see--well, down thisway is the last row of bunkers. See the humps? You can check inside tosee if they're full or empty and save us the trouble of exploring ifthey're all empty. Have a look round inside if you care to--the robotmachinery's interesting."
Bart tensed; he had wondered how he'd get hidden inside, but he asked,"Not locked?"
"Locked?" The old Lhari's short, yellowed crest bobbed in surprise."Why? Who ever comes here but our ships? And what could we do with thestuff but take it back with us? Why locked? You've been on the drift toolong--among those thieving humans! It's time you got back to live amongdecent folk again. Well, go along."
The sting of the words stiffened Bart as he took his leave. The color ofthe badge seemed deeper orange....
_When it's red, you're dead._
_It's true. The Lhari don't steal. They don't even seem to understanddishonesty._
_But they lied--lied to us all...._
_Knowing what we were like, maybe! That we'd steal their ships, theirsecrets, their lives!_
The deepening color of the badge seemed the one visible thing in astrange glaring world. He walked along the row of bunkers, realizing heneed not check if they were full or empty--the Lhari wouldn't live longenough to harvest their better-than-graphite lubricant. They'd be dead.
The last bunker was empty. He looked at his orange badge and steppedinside, heart pounding so loudly he thought it was an external sound--it_was_ an external sound, a step.
"Don't move one inch," said a voice in Universal, and Bart froze,trembling. He looked cautiously round.
Montano stood there, spacesuited, his head bare, dark contact lensesblurring his eyes. And in his hand a drawn blaster was heldlevel--trained straight at Bart's heart.