The Colors of Space

"I was. All I want is a chance to tell my own story in my own way. Where

everyone will hear me."

Raynor Three looked at him curiously. "There's something you're not

telling, Bart. Want to tell me?"

Bart hesitated, then held out his hand and clasped his kinsman's.

"Thanks--but no."

Raynor Three saw his hesitation and chuckled. "All right, son. Forget I

asked. You've grown up."

It was good to sleep in a soft human-type bed again, to eat breakfast

and shave and dress in ordinary human clothing again. But Bart folded

his Lhari tights and the cloak tenderly, with regret. They were the

memory of an experience no one else would ever have.

Raynor Three let him take the controls as they flew back to the

spaceport city; and a little before noon they entered the great crystal

pylon that was the headquarters of the Federation Trade Bureau on

Procyon Alpha. Men and Lhari were moving in the lobby; among them Bart

saw Vorongil, Meta at his side. He smiled at her, received a wan smile

in return.

Would Vorongil feel that Bart had deceived him, betrayed him, when he

heard Bart today?

In the hearing room, four white-crested Lhari sat across from four

dignified, well-dressed men, representatives of the Federation of

Intergalactic Trade. The space beyond was wholly filled with people,

crowded together, and carrying stereo cameras, intercom equipment, the

creepie-peepie of the on-the-spot space commentator.

"Mr. Steele, we had hoped to make this a quiet hearing, without undue

publicity. But we cannot deny the news media the privilege of covering

it, unless you wish to claim the right to privacy."

"No, indeed," Bart said clearly. "I want them all to hear what I'm going

to say."

Raynor One came up to the bench. "Bart, as your guardian, I advise

against it. Some people will call this a publicity stunt. It won't do

Eight Colors any good to admit that men have been spying on the Lhari--"

"I want press coverage," Bart repeated stubbornly, "and as many

star-systems on the relay as possible."

"All right. But I wash my hands of it," Raynor One said angrily.

Bart told his story simply: his meeting with the elder Briscoe, his

meeting with Raynor One--carefully not implicating Raynor One in the

plot--Raynor Three's work in altering his appearance to that of a Lhari,

and the major events of his cruise on the Swiftwing. When he came to

the account of the shift into warp-drive, he saw the faces of the press

reporters, and realized that for them this was the story of the year--or

century: humans can endure star-drive! But he went on, not

soft-pedaling Montano's attempted murder, his own choice, the trip to

the Lhari world-One of the board representatives interrupted testily, "What is the point

of this lengthy narrative? You can give the story to the newsmen without

our official sanction, if you want to make it a heroic epic, young

Steele. We have heard sufficient to prove your guilt, and that of

Raynor, in the violation of treaty--"