Bart knew, with a cold chill, that the missing Klanerol had not simply
gone "on the drift." No Lhari port would ever see Klanerol, Second Class
Astrogator, again.
"Bartol," mused the captain, riffling the forged papers. "Served on the
Polaris run. Hm--you _are_ a good long way off your orbit, aren't you?
Never been out that way myself. All right, I'll take you on. You can do
system programming? Good. Rating in Second Galaxy mathematics?"
He nodded, hauled out a sheet of thin, wax-coated fabric and his claws
made rapid imprints in the surface. He passed it to Bart, pointed. Bart
hesitated, and Vorongil said impatiently, "Standard agreement, no hidden
clauses. Put your mark on it, feathertop."
Bart realized it was something like a fingerprint they wanted. _You'll
pass anything but X-rays._ He pressed the top of one claw into the wax.
Vorongil nodded, shoved it on a shelf without looking at it.
"So much for that," said Ringg, laughing, as they came out. "The Bald
One was in a good temper. I'm going to the port and celebrate, not that
this dim place is very festive. You?"
"I--I think I'll stay aboard."
"Well, if you change your mind, I'll be down there somewhere," Ringg
said. "See you later, shipmate." He raised his closed fist in farewell,
and went.
Bart stood in the corridor, feeling astounded and strange. He _belonged_
here! He had a right to be on board the ship! He wasn't quite sure what
to do next.
A Lhari, as short and fat as a Lhari could possibly be and still be a
Lhari, came or rather waddled out of the captain's office. He saw Bartol
and called, "Are you the new First Class? I'm Rugel, coordinator."
Rugel had a huge cleft darkish scar across his lip, and there were two
bands on his cloak. He was completely bald, and he puffed when he
walked. "Vorongil asked me to show you around. You'll share quarters
with Ringg--no sense shifting another man. Come down and see the chart
rooms--or do you want to leave your kit in your cabin first?"
"I don't have much," Bart said.
Rugel's seamed lip widened. "That's the way--travel light when you're on
the drift," he confirmed.
Rugel took him down to the drive rooms, and here for a moment, in wonder
and awe, Bart almost forgot his disguise. The old Lhari led him to the
huge computer which filled one wall of the room, and Bart was smitten
with the universality of mathematics. Here was something he _knew_ he
could handle.
He could do this programming, easily enough. But as he stood before the
banks of complex, yet beautifully familiar levers, the sheer exquisite
complexity of it overcame him. To compute the movements of thousands of
stars, all moving at different speeds in different directions in the
vast swirling directionless chaos of the Universe--and yet to be sure
that every separate movement would come out to within a quarter of a
mile! It was something that no finite brain--man or Lhari--could ever
accomplish, yet their limited brains had built these computers that
_could_ do it.
Rugel watched him, laughing softly. "Well, you'll have enough time down
here. I like to have youngsters who are still in the middle of a love
affair with their work. Come along, and I'll show you your cabin."
Rugel left him in a cabin amidships; small and cramped, but tidy, two of
the oval bunks slung at opposite ends, a small table between them, and
drawers filled with pamphlets and manuals and maps. Furtively, ashamed
of himself, yet driven by necessity, Bart searched Ringg's belongings,
wanting to get some idea of what possessions he ought to own. He looked
around the shower and toilet facilities with extra care--this was
something he _couldn't_ slip up on and be considered even halfway
normal. He was afraid Ringg would come in, and see him staring curiously
at something as ordinary, to a Lhari, as a cake of soap.
He decided to go down to the port again and look around the shops. He
was not afraid of being unable to handle his work. What he feared was
something subtler--that the small items of everyday living, something as
simple as a nail file, would betray him.
On his way he looked into the Recreation Lounge, filled with comfortable
seats, vision-screens, and what looked like simple pinball machines and
mechanical games of skill. There were also stacks of tapereels and
headsets for listening, not unlike those humans used. Bart felt
fascinated, and wanted to explore, but decided he could do that later.
Somehow he took the wrong turn coming out of the Recreation Lounge, and
went through a door where the sudden dimming of lights told him he was
in Mentorian quarters. The sudden darkness made him stumble, thrust out
his hands to keep from falling, and an unmistakably human voice said,
"Ouch!"
"I'm sorry," Bart said in Universal, without thinking.
"I admit the lights are dim," said the voice tartly, and Bart found
himself looking down, as his eyes adjusted to the new light level, at a
girl.
She was small and slight, in a metallic blue cloak that swept out, like
wings, around her thin shoulders; the hood framed a small, kittenlike
face. She was a Mentorian, and she was human, and Bart's eyes rested
with comfort on her face; she, on the other hand, was looking up with
anxiety and uneasy distrust. _That's right--I'm a Lhari, a nonhuman
freak!_
"I seem to have missed my way."
"What are you looking for, sir? The medical quarters are through here."
"I'm looking for the elevator down to the crew exits."
"Through here," she said, reopening the door through which he had come,
and shading her large, lovely, long-lashed eyes with a slender hand.
"You took the wrong turn. Are you new on board? I thought all ships were
laid out exactly alike."
"I've only worked on passenger ships."
"I believe they are somewhat different," said the girl in good Lhari.
"Well, that is your way, sir."
He felt as if he had been snubbed and dismissed.
"What is your name?"
She stiffened as if about to salute. "Meta of the house of Marnay Three,
sir."
Bart realized he was doing something wholly out of character for a
Lhari--chatting casually with a Mentorian. With a wistful glance at the
pretty girl, he said a stiff "Thank you" and went down the ramp she had
indicated. He felt horribly lonely. Being a freak wasn't going to be
much fun.