"Don't--Meta, am I so horrible to you then? So--repulsive?"
"No, it's only--" she bit her lip--"it's just that the Lhari are--I
can't quite explain it."
"Different," Bart finished for her. "At first I was repelled--physically
repelled by myself, and by them. It was like living among weird animals,
and being one of the animals. And then, one day, Ringg was just another
kid. He had gray skin and long claws and white hair, just the way I once
had pinkish skin and short fingernails and reddish hair, but the
difference wasn't that I was human inside and he wasn't. If you skinned
Ringg, and skinned me, we'd be almost identical. And all of a sudden
then, Ringg and Vorongil and all the rest were men to me. Just people. I
thought you Mentorians, after living with the Lhari all these years,
would feel that."
She said in slow wonder, "We've lived and worked side by side with them
all these years, yet kept so apart! I've defended the Lhari to you, yet
it took you to explain them to me!"
His arm was still round her, her head still lying on his shoulder. Bart
was just beginning to wonder if he might kiss her when the infirmary
door opened and Ringg stood in the doorway, staring at them with
surprise, shock and revulsion. Bart realized, suddenly, how it must look
to Ringg--who certainly shared Meta's prejudice--but even as he
comprehended it, Ringg's face altered. Meta slipped from Bart's arms and
rose, but Ringg came slowly a step into the room.
"I--remembered you had a bad reaction, to warp-drive," he said. "I came
to see if you were all right. I would never have believed--but I'm
beginning to guess. There was always something about you, Bartol." He
shut the door behind him and stood against it. His voice lowered almost
to a whisper, he said, "You're not Lhari, are you?"
"Vorongil knows," Bart said.
Ringg nodded. "That day on Lharillis. The crew was talking, but only one
or two of them really know what happened. There are a dozen rumors. I
wanted to see you. They said you were sick with radiation burns--"
"I was."
Ringg raised his hand, absently, to the still-puckered mark on his
cheek, saw Bart watching him and smiled.
"You're not worrying about that fight? Forget it, friend. If anything, I
admire someone who can use his claws--especially if, as I begin to
suspect, they're not his." He leaned over, his hand lightly on Bart's
shoulder. "I don't forget so easily. You saved my life, remember? And
you're a hero on the ship for warning us all. Are you really human? Why
not get rid of the disguise?"