The Colors of Space

After a long time Raynor Three opened the door quietly. "Come and have

something to eat, Bart."

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, I am," Raynor Three said, "and you ought to be. You'll need it."

He pulled knobs and the appropriate tables and chairs extruded

themselves from the walls. Raynor unsealed hot cartons and spread them

on the table, saying lightly, "Looks good--not that I can claim any

credit, I subscribe to a food service that delivers them hot by

pneumatic tube."

Bart felt sickened by the thought of eating, but when he put a polite

fork in the food, he discovered that he was famished and ate up

everything in sight. When they had finished, Raynor dumped the cartons

into a disposal chute, went to a small portable bar and put a glass into

his hand.

"Drink this."

Bart touched his lips to the glass, made a face and put it away.

"Thanks, but I don't drink."

"Call it medicine, you'll need something," Raynor Three said crossly.

"I've got a lot to tell you, and I don't want you going off half-primed

in the middle of a sentence. If you'd rather have a shot of

tranquilizer, all right; otherwise, I prescribe that you drink what I

gave you." He gave Bart a quick, wry grin. "I really am a medic, you

know."

Feeling like a scolded child, Bart drank. It burned his mouth, but after

it was down, he felt a sort of warm burning in his insides that

gradually spread a sense of well-being all through him. It wasn't

alcohol, but whatever it was, it had quite a kick.

"Thanks," he muttered. "Why are you taking this trouble, Raynor? There

must be danger--"

"Don't you know--" Raynor broke off. "Obviously, you don't. Your mother

never said much about your Mentorian family tree, I suppose? She was a

Raynor." He smiled at Bart, a little ruefully. "I won't claim a

kinsman's privileges until you decide how much to trust me."

Raynor Three settled back.

"It's a long story and I only know part of it," he began. "Our family,

the Raynors, have traded with the Lhari for more generations than I can

count. When I was a young man, I qualified as a medic on the Lhari

ships, and I've been star-hopping ever since. People call us the slaves

of the Lhari--maybe we are," he added wryly. "But I began it just

because space is where I belong, and there's nowhere else that I've ever

wanted to be. And I'll take it at any price.