ar."

"We're not at war with the Lhari! We have a treaty with them!"

"The Federation has, because they don't dare do anything else," Montano
said, his face taking on the fanatic's light, "but some of us dare do
something, some of us aren't going to sit forever and let them strangle
all humanity, hold us down, let us _die_! It's war, Bart, war for
economic survival. Do you suppose the Lhari would hesitate to kill
anyone if we did anything to hurt their monopoly of the stars? Or didn't
they tell you about David Briscoe, how they hunted him down like an
animal--"

"But how do we know that was Lhari policy, and not just--some fanatic?"
Bart asked suddenly. He thought of the death of the elder Briscoe, and
as always he shivered with the horror of it, but for the first time it
came to him: _Briscoe had provoked his own death. He had physically
attacked the Lhari--threatened them, goaded them to shoot him down in
self-defense!_ "I've been on shipboard with them for months. They're not
wanton murderers."

Raynor Two made a derisive sound. "Sounds like it might be Three
talking!"

Hedrick growled, "Why waste time talking? Listen, young Steele, you'll
do as you're told, or else! Who gave you the right to argue?"

"Quiet, both of you." Montano came and laid his arm around Bart's
shoulders, persuasively. "Bart, I know how you feel. But can't you trust
me? You're Rupert Steele's son, and you're here to carry on what your
father left undone, aren't you? If you fail now, there may not be
another chance for years--maybe not in our lifetimes."

Bart dropped his head in his hands. _Kill a whole shipload of
Lhari--innocent traders? Bald, funny old Rugel, stern Vorongil, Ringg--_

"I don't know what to do!" It was a cry of despair. Bart looked
helplessly around at the men.

Montano said, almost tenderly, "You couldn't side with the Lhari against
men, could you? Could a son of Rupert Steele do that?"

Bart shut his eyes, and something seemed to snap within him. His father
had died for this. He might not understand Montano's reasons, but he had
to believe that Montano had them.

"All right," he said, thickly, "you can count on me."

When he left Montano's house, he had the details of the plan, had
memorized the location of the device he was to sabotage, and accepted,
from Montano, a pair of dark contact lenses. "The light's hellish out
there," Montano warned. "I know you're half Mentorian, but they don't
even take their Mento