sed
the Universal word; there were, of course, no words for colors in the
Lhari speech.

"The man we sssseek has hair of _red_," said the Lhari. "And he isss
tall, not fat."

"The boy is tall and with _red_ hair," the Mentorian volunteered, and
the old Lhari made a gesture of disdain.

"This boy is twenty years younger than the man whose description came to
us. Why did they not give us a picture or at least a name?" He turned to
the other Lhari and said in their own shrill speech, "I suspected this
man because he was alone. And I had seen this boy on the upper mezzanine
and spoken with him. We watched him, knowing sooner or later the father
would seek him. Ask him." He gestured and the Mentorian said, "Who is
this man, you?"

Bart gulped. For the first time he noted the energon-ray shockers at the
belts of the four Lhari. He'd heard about those. They could stun--or
they could kill, and quite horribly. He said, "This is my father. You
want my cards, too?" He hauled out his identity papers. "My name's Bart
Steele."

The Lhari, with a gesture of disgust, handed them back. "Go, then,
father and son," he said, not unkindly.

"Let's get going, Son," said the little bald man. His hand shook on
Bart's, and Bart thought, _If we're lucky, we can get out of the port
before he faints dead away._ He said "I'll get a copter," and then,
feeling sorry for the stranger, gave him his arm to lean on. He didn't
know whether he was worried or scared. _Where was his father?_ Why did
this man have his dad's papers? Was his father hiding inside the Lhari
ship? He wanted to run, to burst away from the imposter, but the guy was
shaking so hard Bart couldn't just leave him standing there. If the
Lhari got him, he was a dead duck.

A copter swooped down, the pilot signaling. The little man said
hoarsely, "No. Robotcab."

Bart waved the copter away, getting a dirty look from the pilot, and
punched a button at the stand for one of the unmanned robotcabs. It
swung down, hovered motionless. Bart boosted the fat man in. Inside, the
man collapsed on the seat, leaning back, puffing, his hand pressed hard
to his chest.

"Punch a combo for Denver," he said hoarsely.

Bart obeyed, automatically. Then he turned on the man.

"It's your game, mister! Now tell me what's going on? _Where's my
father?_"

The man's eyes were half-shut. He said, gasping, "Don't ask me any
questions for a minute." He thumbed a tablet into his mouth, and
presently h