The Colors of Space

"I'm glad you--decided what you did," she whispered. "It's what a

Mentorian would have done. I know that other races call us slaves of

the Lhari. We aren't. We're working in our own way to show the Lhari

that human beings can be trusted. The other peoples--they hold away from

the Lhari, fighting them with words even though they're afraid to fight

them with weapons, carrying on the war that they're afraid to fight!

"Did it ever occur to you--all the peoples of all the planets keep

saying, We're as good as the Lhari, but only the Mentorians are

willing to prove it? Bart, a Lhari ship can't get along in our galaxy

without Mentorians any more! It may be slower than trying to take the

warp-drive by force, or stealing it by spying, but when we learn to

endure it, I have faith that we'll get it!"

Bart, although moved by Meta's philosophy, couldn't quite share it. It

still seemed to him that the Mentorians were lacking in

something--independence, maybe, or drive.

"I wasn't thinking about anything like that," he said honestly. "It was

simply that I couldn't let them die. After all--" he was speaking more

to himself than to the girl--"it's their star-drive. They found it.

And they've given us star-trade, and star-travel, cheaply and with

profit to both sides. I hope we'll get the star-drive someday. But if we

got it by mass murder, it would sow the seeds of a hatred between men

and Lhari that would never end. It wouldn't be worth it, Meta. Nothing

would be worth that. We've got enough hate already."

* * * * * Bart was still in his bunk, but beginning to fret at staying there, when

the familiar trembling of Acceleration Two started to run through the

ship. It was, by now, so familiar to him that he hardly gave it a second

thought, but Meta panicked.

"What's happening? Bart, what is it? Why are we under acceleration

again?"

"Shift to warp," he said without thinking, and her face went deathly

white. "So that's it," she whispered. "Vorongil--no wonder he wasn't

worried about what I would find out from you or what you knew." She drew

herself together in her chair, a miserable, shrunken, terrified little

figure, bravely trying to control her terror.

Then she held out her hands to Bart. "I'm--I'm ashamed," she whispered.

"When you've been so brave, I shouldn't be afraid to die."

"Meta, what's the matter? What are you afraid of?" It suddenly swept

over Bart what she meant and what she feared. "But don't you understand,

Meta?" he exclaimed, "Humans can live through the warp-drive! No

drugs, no cold-sleep--Meta, I've done it dozens of times!"