CHAPTER TWELVE
After the first moment of panic, Bart realized Montano could not tellhim from a Lhari. He remained motionless. "It's me, Montano--BartSteele."
The man lowered the weapon and put it away. "You nearly got yourself cutdown," he said. "Did you make it all right?" He crossed behind Bart,inspecting the fastenings of the bunker.
"It's just luck I didn't shoot you first and ask questions afterward."Montano drew a deep breath and sat down on the concrete floor. "Anyway,we're safe in here. We've got about half an hour before the radiationwill reach lethal intensity. It has a very short half-life, though; onlyabout twelve minutes. If we spend an hour in here, we'll be safe enough.Did you have any trouble putting the radiation counter out ofcommission?"
So in half an hour they would all be dead. Ringg, Rugel, CaptainVorongil. Two dozen Lhari, all dead so that Montano could have a Lhariship to play with.
And what then? More killing, more murder? Would Montano start killingeveryone who tried to get the secret of the drive from him? The Lharihad the star-drive; maybe it belonged to them, maybe not. Maybe humanshad a right to have it, too. But this wasn't the right way. Maybe theydidn't deserve it.
He turned to look at Montano. The man was leaning back, whistling softlythrough his teeth. He felt like telling Montano that he couldn't gothrough with it. He started to speak, then stopped, his blood icingover.
_If I try to argue with him, I'll never get out of here alive. It meanstoo much to him._
_Do I just salve my conscience with that then? Sit here and let themdie?_
With a shock of remembrance, it came to Bart that he had a weapon. Hewas armed, this time, with the energon-beam that was part of hisuniform. Montano had evidently forgotten it. _Could_ he kill Montano?Even to save two dozen Lhari?
He reached hesitantly toward the beam-gun, quickly thumbed the catchdown to the lowest point, which was simple shock. He froze as Montanolooked in his direction, hand out of sight under his cloak.
"How many Lhari on board?"
"Twenty-three, and three Mentorians."
"Anyone apt to be behind shielding--say, in the drive chamber?"
"No, I think they're all outside."
Montano nodded, idly. "Then we won't have to worry."
Bart slipped his hand toward his weapon. Montano saw the movement,cocked his head in question; then, as understanding flashed over hisface, his hand darted to his own gun. But Bart had pressed the charge ofhis, and Montano slumped over without a cry. He looked so limp that Bartgasped. Was he dead? Hastily he fumbled the lax hand for a pulse. Aftera long, endless moment he saw Montano's chest twitch and knew the manwas breathing.
Well, Montano would be safe here in the bunker. Hastily, Bart looked athis timepiece. Half an hour before the radiation was lethal--_for theLhari_. Was it already, for him? Shakily, he unfastened the door. He ranout into the glare, seeing as he ran that his badge was tinged with anever-darkening, gold, orange....
Montano had said there was a safety margin, but maybe he was wrong,maybe all Bart would accomplish would be his own death! He ran backalong the line of bunkers, his heart pounding with his racing feet. Twocrewmen came along the line, young white-crested Lhari from the otherwatch. He gasped, "Where is the captain?"
"Down that way--what's wrong, Bartol?" But Bart was gone, his musclesaching with the unaccustomed effort inside gravity. Putting on speed, hesaw the tall, austere shape of Vorongil, his banded cloak dark againstthe glaring light. Vorongil turned, startled, at the sound of hisrunning feet.
Suddenly, Bart realized that he was still holding his energon-ray. Inshock and revulsion, he dropped it at Vorongil's feet.
"Captain, go warn the men! They'll all be dead in half an hour! Thereare lethal radiations--"
"_What?_ Are you sunstruck?"
Bart stopped cold. Never once had it crossed his mind what he would sayto Vorongil or how he would make the captain believe his story, withoutrevealing Montano. He started to hold up his badge, realized the Lharicaptain could not see color, and dropped it again, while Vorongil bentover to pick up the fallen gun. "Are you sunstruck or mad, Bartol?What's this babble?"
"Captain, everybody on the _Swiftwing_--"
"And speak Lhari!" Vorongil demanded, and Bart realized that in hisexcitement he had been shouting in Universal. He drew a long, deepbreath.
"Captain, there are lethal radiations being released here," he said."You have just barely half an hour to gather all the men and get thembehind shielding."
"The radiation counter is out of order," Vorongil remarked, unruffled."How can you possibly know--"
Bart stood in despair. Could he say, _A ship has landed here?_ Could hesay, _Check that bunker?_ Even if Montano was a would-be murderer, hewas human, and Bart could not betray him to the Lhari. There had beentoo much betrayal. His voice rose in sudden hysteria.
"Captain, there's no time! I tell you, you'll all be dead if you don'tbelieve me! Get the men into the ship! Get them behind shielding and_then_ check my story! I'm not--" he had gone this far, he might as wellgo the whole way--"_I'm not a Lhari!_"
_"What?"_
One of the crewmen came dashing up, his crest sweat-streaked. "Captain!Rugel has collapsed! We don't know what's wrong with him."
"Radiation sickness," said Bart, and Vorongil reached out, catching hisshoulder in a cruel taloned grip. Bart said desperately "I'm not aLhari! I signed on in disguise--I knew they meant to take the ship, butI can't let you all die.
"How can I make you believe me? Here--" In desperation, Bart reached up.Pain stabbed his eyeballs, fierce, blinding, as he pulled out one of thecontact lenses. He could not see the captain's face through the light,but suddenly two Lhari were holding his arms. The fear of death was onBart, but it no longer mattered. He saw through watering eyes theever-deepening orange of the badge disappearing.
"Here," he said, tearing at it, "radiation. You must be able to see howdark it is. Even if it's just darkness...."
Suddenly Vorongil was shouting, but Bart could not hear. Two men weredragging him along. They hustled him up the ramp of the ship. He couldsee again, but his eyes were blurred, and he felt sick, colors spinningbefore his eyes, a nauseated ringing in his head.
At first he thought it was his ears ringing; then he made out therising, shrieking wail and fall of the emergency siren, steps running,shouting voices, the slow clang of the doors. Someone was pushing athim, babbling words in Lhari, but he heard them through anever-increasing distance: Vorongil's face bent over his, only a blurredcrimson blob that flashed away like a vanishing star in the viewport. Itflamed out into green darkness, vanished, and Bart fell through whatseemed to be a bottomless chasm of starless night.
* * * * *
When he woke, acceleration had its crushing hand on his chest. He triedto move, discovered that he was strapped hard into a bunk, and faintedagain.
Suddenly the pressure was gone and he was lying at ease on the smoothsheets of a hospital bunk. His eyes were covered with a light bandage,and there was a sharp pain in his left arm. He tried to move it andfound it was tied down.
"I think he's coming round," said Vorongil's voice.
"Yes, and a lot too soon for me," said a bitter voice which Bartrecognized as that of the ship's medic. "Freak!"
"Listen, Baldy," said Vorongil, "whoever he is, he could have beenblinded or killed. You wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for that_freak_, as you call him. Bartol, can you hear me? How much light canyour eyes stand?"
"As much as any Mentorian." Bart found he could move his right arm, andtwitched the bandage away. Vorongil and the medic stood over him; in theother infirmary bunk a form was lying, covered with a white sheet.Sickly, Bart wondered if they had found Montano. Vorongil followed thedirection of his eyes.
"Yes," he said, and his voice held deep bitterness, "poor old Rugel isdead. He didn't get much of the radiation, but his heart wouldn't standit, and gave out." He bowed his head. "He was bald in the service of t
heships when my crest was new-sprouted," he said in deep grief.
Bart felt the shock of that, even through his own fear. He looked downat his left arm. It was strapped to a splint, and fluid was drippingslowly into the vein there.
Vorongil nodded. "I expect you feel pretty sick. You got a good dose ofradiation yourself, but we've given you a couple of transfusions--one ofthe Mentorians matched your blood type, fortunately. It was a closecall."
The medic was looking down in ill-disguised curiosity. "Fantastic," hesaid. "I don't suppose you'd tell me who changed your looks. I admit Iwouldn't believe it until I had a look at your foot bones under thefluoroscope."
Vorongil said quietly, "Bartol--I don't suppose that's your realname--why did you do it?"
"I couldn't see you all die, sir," Bart said, not expecting them tobelieve him. "No more than that."
The medic said roughly in Lhari, "It's a trick, sir, no more. A trick tomake us trust him!"
"Why would he risk his own life then?" Vorongil asked. "No, it's morethan that." He hesitated. "We checked the bunkers--in radiationsuits--before we took off. We found a man in one of them."
"Was he dead?" Bart whispered.
"No," Vorongil said quietly.
"Thank God!" It was a heartfelt explosion. Then, apprehensively, "Or didyou kill him?"
"What do you think we are?" Vorongil said incredulously. "Indeed no. Hisown men have probably found him by now. I don't imagine he got half asmuch radiation as you did."
Bart surveyed the needle in his arm. "Why are you taking all thistrouble if I'm going to be put out of the way?"
"You must have some funny ideas about us," Vorongil said shaking hishead. "That would be a fine way to reward you for saving all of ourlives. No, you're not going to be killed."
"If I had my way--" the old medic began, and suddenly Vorongil flew intoa rage. "Get out!"
The medic went stiffly through the door, and Vorongil stood gazing downat Bart, shaking his yellowed crest. "I don't know what to say to you.It was a brave thing you did, but perhaps no braver than you've done allalong. Are you a Mentorian?"
"Only half."
"Strange," Vorongil said, looking into space, "that I could talk to youas I did by the monument, and you knew what I meant. But, yes, you wouldunderstand." Abruptly, he recalled himself, and his voice was thin andcold.
"I haven't quite decided what to do. I haven't spoken of this to thecrew yet; the fewer who know about this, the better. I told them you gota heavy dose of radiation, and you're too sick to see visitors." Hesounded kinder when he said, "It's true, you know. It won't hurt you toget your strength back."
He went out, and Bart wondered, _Get my strength back for what?_ He layback, feeling weaker than he realized. It was a relief to know he wasn'tgoing to be killed out of hand. And somehow he didn't believe he wasgoing to be killed at all.
It wasn't like being a prisoner. The medic brought him plenty of food,urging him to eat--"You need plenty of protein after radiationburns"--and if he stayed in the bunk, it was only because he felt tooweak to get up. Actually he was suffering from delayed emotional shock,as well as from radiation. He was content to let things drift.
Inevitably, the time came when he had to think about what he had done.He had betrayed Montano, he had been false to the men who sent him.
"But they don't know the Lhari," his conscience replied, justifying whathe had done.
_You sided with the Lhari against your own people. You spoilt ourchances of learning about the Lhari fuel catalyst._
"I've done something better than stealing a secret by stealth. I'veproved that humans and Lhari can communicate, that they can trust eachother. It's only their looks that are strange. A kind, generous man is akind generous man, whether his name is Raynor Three or Vorongil."
_But who's going to know it?_
"I know it. And truth comes out, sooner or later. Somehow, a betterunderstanding between man and Lhari will come from this."
Secure in the knowledge, he turned over and went peacefully to sleep.
When he woke again, he felt better. The Mentorian girl, Meta, wassitting quietly between the bunks, watching him. He started to turnover, flinched at the pain in his arm.
"Yes," she said, "we're giving you one last transfusion. Plasma, thistime. It's Lhari, but if you know that much, you know it won't hurtyou." She came and inspected the needle in his wrist, and Bart caughther hand with his free one. "Meta, does anyone else know?"
She looked down with a troubled smile. "I don't think so. I was offwatch, waiting for cold-sleep--we're just about to make the longjump--when Vorongil came to my quarters. I was startled almost out of mywits. He asked if I could keep a secret; then he told me about you. Oh,Bart!" Her small soft hand closed convulsively on his, "I was so afraid!I knew they wouldn't kill you, but I was afraid!"
_Yet they had killed David Briscoe_, Bart thought, and hunted down twoof his friends. It was the only thing he couldn't square with hisperception of the Lhari. It didn't fit. He could understand that theyhad shot down the robotcab with Edmund Briscoe in it, in pureself-defense; and that knowledge had taken off the edge of the horror.But the death of young Briscoe and everyone he had talked to could notbe explained away.
"You seem very sure they wouldn't have killed me, Meta," he said,carefully clasping his hand around hers.
"They wouldn't," she affirmed. "But they could--make you forget--"
A small chill went over Bart. He let go of her hand and lay staringbleakly at the wall. He supposed that was his probable fate: rememberingthe tragic tone of Raynor Three when he said _I won't remember you_, hegritted his teeth, feeling his face twist convulsively. Meta, watching,misunderstood.
"Arm hurting? I'll have that needle out of your vein in a few minutesnow."
When she had freed his arm and put away the apparatus, she came to hisside. "Bart, how did it happen? How did they find you out?"
Suddenly, the longing for human contact was too much for Bart, and theknowledge of his secret intolerable. The Lhari could find out what heknew, if they wanted to know, very simply; he was in their power. Itdidn't matter any more.
The telling of the story took a long time, and when he finished, Meta'ssoft small kitten-face was compassionate.
"I'm glad you--decided what you did," she whispered. "It's what aMentorian would have done. I know that other races call us _slaves ofthe Lhari_. We aren't. We're working in our own way to show the Lharithat human beings can be trusted. The other peoples--they hold away fromthe Lhari, fighting them with words even though they're afraid to fightthem with weapons, carrying on the war that they're afraid to fight!
"Did it ever occur to you--all the peoples of all the planets keepsaying, _We're as good as the Lhari_, but only the Mentorians arewilling to prove it? Bart, a Lhari ship can't get along in our galaxywithout Mentorians any more! It may be slower than trying to take thewarp-drive by force, or stealing it by spying, but when we learn toendure it, I have faith that we'll get it!"
Bart, although moved by Meta's philosophy, couldn't quite share it. Itstill seemed to him that the Mentorians were lacking insomething--independence, maybe, or drive.
"I wasn't thinking about anything like that," he said honestly. "It wassimply that I couldn't let them die. After all--" he was speaking moreto himself than to the girl--"it's _their_ star-drive. _They_ found it.And they've given us star-trade, and star-travel, cheaply and withprofit to both sides. I hope we'll get the star-drive someday. But if wegot it by mass murder, it would sow the seeds of a hatred between menand Lhari that would never end. It wouldn't be worth it, Meta. Nothingwould be worth that. We've got enough hate already."
* * * * *
Bart was still in his bunk, but beginning to fret at staying there, whenthe familiar trembling of Acceleration Two started to run through theship. It was, by now, so familiar to him that he hardly gave it a secondthought, but Meta panicked.
"What's happening? Bart, what is it? Why are we under a
ccelerationagain?"
"Shift to warp," he said without thinking, and her face went deathlywhite. "So that's it," she whispered. "Vorongil--no wonder he wasn'tworried about what I would find out from you or what you knew." She drewherself together in her chair, a miserable, shrunken, terrified littlefigure, bravely trying to control her terror.
Then she held out her hands to Bart. "I'm--I'm ashamed," she whispered."When you've been so brave, I shouldn't be afraid to die."
"Meta, what's the matter? What are you afraid of?" It suddenly sweptover Bart what she meant and what she feared. "But don't you understand,Meta?" he exclaimed, "Humans _can_ live through the warp-drive! Nodrugs, no cold-sleep--Meta, I've done it dozens of times!"
_"But you're a Lhari!"_ It burst from her, uncontrollable. She stopped,looked at him in consternation. He smiled, bitterly.
"No, Meta, they didn't do a thing to my internal organs, to my brain, tothe tissues of my body. Just a little plastic surgery on my hands, myfeet and my face. Meta, there's nothing to be afraid of--nothing," herepeated.
She twisted her small hands together. "I'm--trying to--to believe that,"she whispered, "but all my life I've known--"
The screaming whine in the ship gripped them with the strange, clawinglassitude and discomfort. Bart, gasping under it, heard the girl moan,saw her slump lax in her chair, half fainting. Her face was so deathlywhite that he began seriously to be afraid she would die of her fear.Fighting his own agonizing weakness, he pulled himself upright. Hereached the girl, dug his claws cruelly into her.
"Girl, get hold of yourself! Fight it! _Fight_ it! The more scared youare, the worse it's going to be!"
She was rigid, trembling, in a trance of terror.
"You rotten little coward," he yelled at her, "snap out of it! Or areall you Mentorians so gutless that you believe any half-baked folk talethe Lhari pass off on you? You and your fine talk about earning thestar-drive! What would you do with it after you got it--if you die offear when you try?"
"Oh! You--!" She flung her head back, her eyes blazing with rage."Anything you can do, I can do, too!" He saw life flowing back into herface, and the trembling now was with fury, not fear; she was fightingthe pain, the crawling itch in her nerve ends, the terrible sense ofdraining disorganization.
Bart felt his hold on himself breaking. He whispered hoarsely, "That'sthe girl--don't be scared if I--black out for a minute." He held on toconsciousness with his last courage, afraid if he fainted, the girlwould collapse again.
She reached for him, and Bart, starved for some human touch, drew herinto his arms. They clung together, and he felt her wet face against hisown, the softness of her trembling hands. She was still crying a little.Then the blackness closed on him, as if endless, and the gray blur ofwarp-drive peak blotted his brain into nothingness.
He came out of it to feel her cheek soft against his, her headtrustfully on his shoulder. He said huskily, "All right, Meta?"
"I'm fine," she murmured, shakily. He tightened his hands a little,realizing that for the first time in months he had physically forgottenhis Lhari disguise, that Meta had given him this priceless reassurancethat he was human. But, as if suddenly aware of it again, she looked upat him and drew hesitantly away.
"Don't--Meta, am I so horrible to you then? So--repulsive?"
"No, it's only--" she bit her lip--"it's just that the Lhari are--Ican't quite explain it."
"Different," Bart finished for her. "At first I was repelled--physicallyrepelled by myself, and by them. It was like living among weird animals,and being one of the animals. And then, one day, Ringg was just anotherkid. He had gray skin and long claws and white hair, just the way I oncehad pinkish skin and short fingernails and reddish hair, but thedifference wasn't that I was human inside and he wasn't. If you skinnedRingg, and skinned me, we'd be almost identical. And all of a suddenthen, Ringg and Vorongil and all the rest were men to me. Just people. Ithought you Mentorians, after living with the Lhari all these years,would feel that."
She said in slow wonder, "We've lived and worked side by side with themall these years, yet kept so apart! I've defended the Lhari to you, yetit took you to explain them to me!"
His arm was still round her, her head still lying on his shoulder. Bartwas just beginning to wonder if he might kiss her when the infirmarydoor opened and Ringg stood in the doorway, staring at them withsurprise, shock and revulsion. Bart realized, suddenly, how it must lookto Ringg--who certainly shared Meta's prejudice--but even as hecomprehended it, Ringg's face altered. Meta slipped from Bart's arms androse, but Ringg came slowly a step into the room.
"I--remembered you had a bad reaction, to warp-drive," he said. "I cameto see if you were all right. I would never have believed--but I'mbeginning to guess. There was always something about you, Bartol." Heshut the door behind him and stood against it. His voice lowered almostto a whisper, he said, "You're not Lhari, are you?"
"Vorongil knows," Bart said.
Ringg nodded. "That day on Lharillis. The crew was talking, but only oneor two of them really _know_ what happened. There are a dozen rumors. Iwanted to see you. They said you were sick with radiation burns--"
"I was."
Ringg raised his hand, absently, to the still-puckered mark on hischeek, saw Bart watching him and smiled.
"You're not worrying about that fight? Forget it, friend. If anything, Iadmire someone who can use his claws--especially if, as I begin tosuspect, they're not his." He leaned over, his hand lightly on Bart'sshoulder. "I don't forget so easily. You saved my life, remember? Andyou're a hero on the ship for warning us all. Are you really human? Whynot get rid of the disguise?"
Bart laughed wryly. "It won't come off," he said, and explained.
Ringg raised his hands to his own face curiously. "I wonder what sort ofhuman I'd make?" He looked at Meta's small fingers. "Not that I'd everhave the nerve. But then, it's no surprise to anyone that you havecourage, Bartol."
"You seem to accept it--"
"It's a shock," said Ringg honestly, "it scares me a little. But I'mremembering the friendship. That was real. As far as I'm concerned, itstill is real."