Bart, strapped down and helpless, moved his head toward the drawer,
hoping his face did not betray his fear. He watched the two Lhari riffle
through his papers with their odd pointed claws.
"What isss your planet?"
Bart bit his lip, hard--he had almost said, "Vega Four."
"Aldebaran Four."
The Lhari said in his own language, "We should have Margil in here. He
actually saw them."
The other replied, "But I saw the machine that disintegrated. I still
say there was enough protoplasm residue for two bodies."
Bart fought to keep his face perfectly straight.
"Did anyone come into your cabin?" The Lhari asked in Universal.
"Only the steward. Why? Is something wrong?"
"There iss some thought that a stowaway might be on boarrd. Of courrrse
we could not allow that, anyone not prrroperly prrotected would die in
the first shift into warp-drive."
"Just the steward," Bart said again. "A Mentorian."
The Lhari said, eying him keenly, "You are ill? Or discommoded?"
Bart grasped at random for an excuse. "That--that stuff the medic made
me drink made me feel--sort of sick."
"You may send for a medical officer after acceleration," said the Lhari
expressionlessly. "The summoning bell is at your left."
They turned and went out and Bart gulped. Lhari, in person, checking the
passenger decks! Normally you never saw one on board; just Mentorians.
The Lhari treated humans as if they were too dumb to bother about. Well,
at least for once someone was acting as if humans were worthy
antagonists. We'll show them--someday!
But he felt very alone, and scared....
A low hum rose, somewhere in the ship, and Bart grabbed ticking as he
felt the slow surge. Then a violent sense of pressure popped his ear
drums, weight crowded down on him like an elephant sitting on his chest,
and there was a horrible squashed sensation dragging his limbs out of
shape. It grew and grew. Bart lay still and sweated, trying to ease his
uncomfortable position, unable to move so much as a finger. The Lhari
ships hit 12 gravities in the first surge of acceleration. Bart felt as
if he were spreading out, under the weight, into a puddle of
flesh--melted flesh like Briscoe's-Bart writhed and bit his lip till he could taste blood, wishing he were
young enough to bawl out loud.
Abruptly, it eased, and the blood started to flow again in his numbed
limbs. Bart loosened his straps, took a few deep breaths, wiped his
face--wringing wet, whether with sweat or tears he wasn't sure--and sat
up in his bunk. The loudspeaker announced, "Acceleration One is
completed. Passengers on A and B Decks are invited to witness the
passing of the Satellites from the Observation Lounge in half an hour."