A voice hailed him, in Lhari. "You, there!"
Bart could see well now. He made out the form of a Lhari, only a
colorless blob in the intense light.
"You people know better than to come back here without glasses. Do you
want to be blinded, my friend?" He actually sounded kind and concerned.
Bart tensed, his heart pounding. Now that he was caught, could he bluff
his way out? He hadn't actually spoken the Lhari language in years,
though his mother had taught it to him when he was young enough to learn
it without a trace of accent.
Well, he must try. "Margil sent me to check," he improvised quickly.
"They were holding someone for questioning, and he seems to have gotten
away somehow, so I wanted to make sure he didn't come through here."
"What is the matter that one man can give us all the slip this way?" the
Lhari said curiously. "Well, one thing is sure, he's Vegan or Solarian
or Capellan, one of the dim-star people. If he comes through here, we'll
catch him easily enough while he's stumbling around half blind. You know
that you shouldn't stay long." He gestured. "Out this way--and don't
come back without special lenses."
Bart nodded, jerking the cloak around his shoulders, forcing himself not
to break into a run as he stepped through the door the Lhari indicated.
It closed behind him. Bart blinked, feeling as if he had stepped into
pitch darkness. Only slowly did his eyes adapt and he became aware that
he was standing in a city street, in the full glow of Procyon sunlight,
and apparently outside the Lhari spaceport entirely.
He'd better get to cover! He took off the Mentorian cloak, thrust it
under his arm. He raised his eyes, which were adjusting to ordinary
light again, and stopped dead.
Just across the street was a long, low, rainbow colored building. And
the letters--Bart blinked, thinking his eyes deceived him--spelled out: EIGHT COLORS TRANSSHIPPING CORPORATION
CARGO, PASSENGERS, MESSAGES, EXPRESS
A. RAYNOR ONE, MANAGER