The Colors of Space

But although he thought he had settled all the conflict, he found that

it returned when he was lying in his bunk, or when he stood in the dome

and watched the stars, while they moved through the Antares system

toward the captive sun and the tiny planet Lharillis.

It's in my power to give this to all men....

Should a few Lhari stand in his way?

He lay in his bunk brooding, thinking of death, staring at the yellow

radiation badge. If you fail, it won't be in our lifetime. He'd have

to go back to little things, to the little ships that hauled piddling

cargo between little planets, while all the grandeur of the stars

belonged to the Lhari. And if he succeeded, Vega Interplanet could

spread from star to star, a mighty memorial to Rupert Steele.

One day Vorongil sent for him. "Bartol," he said, and his voice was not

unkind, "you and Ringg have always been good friends, so don't be angry

about this. He's worried about you--says you spend all your spare time

in your bunk growling at him. Is there anything the matter, feathertop?"

He sounded so concerned, so--the word struck Bart with hysterical

humor--so fatherly, that Bart wanted insanely to laugh and to cry.

Instead he muttered, "Ringg should mind his own business."

"But it's not like that," Vorongil said. "Look, the Swiftwing's a

world, young fellow, and a small one. If one being in that world is

unhappy, it affects everyone."

Bart had an absurd, painful impulse--to blurt out the incredible truth

to Vorongil, and try to get the old Lhari to understand what he was

doing.

But fear held him silent. He was alone, one small human in a ship of

Lhari. Vorongil was frowning at him, and Bart mumbled, "It's nothing,

rieko mori."

"I suppose you're pining for home," Vorongil said kindly. "Well, it

won't be long now."

The glare of the captive sun grew and grew in the ports, and Bart's

dread mounted. He had, as yet, had no opportunity to put the radiation

counter out of order. It was behind a panel in the drive room, and try

as he might, he could think of no way to get to it unobserved.

Sometimes, in sleepless nights, it seemed that would be the best way.

Just let it go. But then the Lhari would detect Montano's ship, and kill

Montano and his men.

Did he believe that? He had to believe it. It was the only way he could

possibly justify what he was doing.