The Colors of Space

"Hold it to point one one four six," Vorongil said calmly.

"Point one one four six," Bart said, and his claws stabbed at dials.

Suddenly, in spite of the cold weight on his chest, the pain, the

struggle, he felt as if he were floating. He managed a long, luxurious

breath. He could handle it. He knew what he was doing.

He was an Astrogator....

Later, when Acceleration One had reached its apex and the artificial

gravity made the ship a place of comfort again, he went down to the

dining hall with Ringg and met the crew of the Swiftwing. There were

twelve officers and twelve crewmen of various ratings like himself and

Ringg, but there seemed to be little social division between them, as

there would have been on a human ship; officers and crew joked and

argued without formality of any kind.

None of them gave him a second look. Later, in the Recreation Lounge,

Ringg challenged him to a game with one of the pinball machines. It

seemed fairly simple to Bart; he tried it, and to his own surprise, won.

Old Rugel touched a lever at the side of the room. With a tiny whishing

sound, shutters opened, the light of Procyon Alpha flooded them and he

looked out through a great viewport into bottomless space.

Procyon Alpha, Beta and Gamma hung at full, rings gently tilted. Beyond

them the stars burned, flaming through the shimmers of cosmic dust. The

colors, the never-ending colors of space!

And he stood here, in a room full of monsters--he was one of the

monsters-"Which one of the planets was it we stopped on?" Rugel asked. "I can't

tell 'em apart from this distance."

Bartol swallowed; he had almost said the blue one. He pointed.

"The--the big one there, with the rings almost edge-on. I think they

call it Alpha."

"It's their planet," said Rugel. "I guess they can call it what they

want to. How about another game?"

Resolutely, Bart turned his back on the bewitching colors, and bent over

the pinball machine.

* * * * * The first week in space was a nightmare of strain. He welcomed the hours

on watch in the drive room; there alone he was sure of what he was

doing. Everywhere else in the ship he was perpetually scared,

perpetually on tiptoe, perpetually afraid of making some small and

stupid mistake. Once he actually called Aldebaran a red star, but Rugel

either did not hear the slip or thought he was repeating what one of the

Mentorians--there were two aboard besides the girl--had said.