The Colors of Space
Page 99One day, at last, he stood at the viewport, watching Procyon Alpha
nearing. A year ago, frightened, terribly alone, still unsteady on his
new Lhari muscles and terrified by the monsters that were his shipmates,
he had watched these planets spinning away. Poor old Rugel, poor old
Baldy!
Behind him, Meta came into the lounge.
"Bart--"
He turned to face her. "It won't be much longer, Meta. Tomorrow I'll
find out what the Federation is going to do to me. Conspiracy
unlawfully to board--and all the rest of it. Even if I don't go to a
"It doesn't have to be that way."
"What other choice is there?" he demanded.
"You're half Mentorian," she said, raising her eager face. "Oh, Bart,
you love it so, you know you can't bear to give it up. Stay with
us--please stay!"
Before answering, he looked out the viewport a last time. The clouds of
cosmic dust swirled and foamed around the familiar jewels of his own
sky. Blue, beloved Vega, burning in the heart of the Lyre--home--when
would he go home? He had no home now. Yet his father had left him Vega
He searched for the topaz of Sol, where he had learned astrogation;
Procyon, where he had become a Lhari; the ruby of Aldebaran (hail and
farewell, David Briscoe!); the bloodstone of Antares, where he had
learned fear and the shape of integrity. The colors, the unknowable
colors of space. And others. Nameless stars where he and his Lhari
shipmates had worked and played. And stars he had never seen and would
never see, all the endless worlds beyond worlds and stars beyond
stars....
He took a last, longing look at the colors of space, then turned his
the Mentorians paid.
"No, Meta," he said huskily. "The Mentorian way is one way, but--I've
had a taste of being one of the masters of space. It's more than most
men ever have, maybe it's more than I deserve. But I can't settle for
anything less. Not even if it means losing you."
He shut his eyes and stood, head bowed. When he looked up again, he was
alone with the stars beyond the viewport, and the lounge was empty.