The Colors of Space

The cab swooped down. Bart found his voice. "But what then? Is Dad

there? Will I know--"

"I don't know any more than I've told you," Briscoe said. Abruptly the

robotcab came to a halt, swaying a little. Briscoe jerked the door open,

gave Bart a push, and Bart found himself stumbling out on the ramp

beside the spaceport building. He caught his balance, looked around, and

realized that the robotcab was already climbing the sky again.

Immediately before him, neon letters spelled TO PASSENGER ENTRANCE

ONLY. Bart stumbled forward. The Lhari by the gate thrust out a

disinterested claw. Bart held up what Briscoe had shoved into his hand,

only now seeing that it was a thin wallet, a set of identity papers and a

strip of pink tickets.

"Procyon Alpha. Corridor B, straight through." The Lhari gestured, and

Bart went through the narrow passageway, came out at the other end, and

found himself at the very base of a curving stair that led up and up

toward a door in the side of the huge Lhari ship. Bart hesitated. In

another minute he'd be on his way to a strange sun and a strange world,

on what might well be the wild-goose chase of all time.

Passengers were crowding the steps behind him. Someone shouted suddenly,

"Look at that!" and someone else yelled, "Is that guy crazy?"

Bart looked up. A robotcab was swooping over the spaceport in wild,

crazy circles, dipping down, suddenly making a dart like an enraged wasp

at a little nest of Lhari. They ducked and scattered; the robotcab

swerved away, hovered, swooped back. This time it struck one of the

Lhari grazingly with landing gear and knocked him sprawling. Bart stood

with his mouth open, as if paralyzed.

Briscoe! What was he doing?

The fallen Lhari lay without moving. The robotcab moved in again, as if

for the kill, buzzing viciously overhead.

Then a beam of light arced from one of the drawn energon-ray tubes. The

robotcab glowed briefly red, then seemed to sag, sink together; then

puddled, a slag heap of molten metal, on the glassy floor of the port. A

little moan of horror came from the crowd, and Bart felt a sudden,

wrenching sickness. It had been like a game, a silly game of cops and

robbers, and suddenly it was as serious as melted death lying there on

the spaceport. Briscoe!

Someone shoved him and said, "Come on, quit gawking, kid. They won't

hold the ship all day just because some nut finds a new way to commit

suicide."