ong, the vicious lie that maintained their stranglehold
monopoly of star-travel. He was their enemy again, the spy within their
gates, like Briscoe, to be hunted down and killed, but to bring the
message, loud and clear, to everyone: _The Lhari lied! The stars can
belong to us all!_

When he got back to the drive room, he saw through the viewport that the
blur had vanished, the star-trails were clear, distinct again, their
comet-tails shortening by the moment, their colors more distinct.

The Lhari were waiting, a few poised over their instruments, a few more
standing at the quartz window watching the star-trails, some squirming
and scratching and grousing about "space fleas"--the characteristic
itching reaction that seemed to be deep down inside the bones.

Bart checked his panels, noted the time when they were due to snap back
into normal space, and went to stand by the viewport. The stars were
reappearing, seeming to steady and blaze out in cloudy splendor through
the bright dust. They burned in great streamers of flame, and for the
moment he forgot his mission again, lost in the beauty of the fiery
lights. He drew a deep, shaking gasp. It was worth it all, to see this!
He turned and saw Ringg, silent, at his shoulder.

"Me, too," Ringg said, almost in a whisper. "I think every man on board
feels that way, a little, only he won't admit it." His slanted gray eyes
looked quickly at Bart and away.

"I guess we're almost down to L-point. Better check the panel and report
nulls, so medic can wake up the Mentorians."

* * * * *

The _Swiftwing_ moved on between the stars. Aldebaran loomed, then faded
in the viewports; another shift jumped them to a star whose human name
Bart did not know. Shift followed shift, spaceport followed spaceport,
sun followed sun; men lived on most of these worlds, and on each of them
a Lhari spaceport rose, alien and arrogant. And on each world men looked
at Lhari with resentful eyes, cursing the race who kept the stars for
their own.

Cargo amassed in the holds of the _Swiftwing_, from worlds beyond all
dreams of strangeness. Bart grew, not bored, but hardened to the
incredible. For days at a time, no word of human speech crossed his
mind.

The blackout at peak of each warp-shift persisted. Vorongil had given
him permission to report off duty, but since the blackouts did not
impair his efficiency, Bart had refused. Rugel told him that this was
the momen