Bart remembered, as if it were yesterday, how he and his father had
first passed through this doorway. And his father, looking up, had said
under his breath “Not for always, Son. Someday men will have a doorway
to the stars, and the Lhari won’t be standing in the door.”

Inside the building, it was searingly bright. The high open rotunda was
filled with immense mirrors, and glass ramps running up and down, moving
staircases, confusing signs and flashing lights on tall oddly shaped
pillars. The place was crowded with men from all over the planet, but
the dark glasses they all wore gave them a strange sort of family
resemblance.

Tommy said, “I’d better check my reservations.”

Bart nodded. “Meet you on the upper level later,” he said, and got on a
moving staircase that soared slowly upward, past level after level,
toward the information desk located on the topmost mezzanine.

The staircase moved slowly, and Bart had plenty of time to see
everything. On the step immediately in front of him, two Lhari were
standing; with their backs turned, they might almost have been men.
Unusually tall, unusually thin, but men. Then Bart amended that
mentally. The Lhari had two arms, two legs and a head apiece–they were
that much like men. Their faces had two eyes, two ears, and a nose and
mouth, all in the right places. But the similarity ended there.

They had skin of a curious pale silvery gray, and pale, pure-white hair
rising in what looked like a feathery crest. The eyes were long and
slanting, the forehead high and narrow, the nose delicately thin and
chiseled with long vertically slit nostrils, the ears long, pointed and
lobeless. The mouth looked almost human, though the chin was abnormally
pointed. The hands would almost have passed inspection as human
hands–except for the long, triangular nails curved over the fingertips
like the claws of a cat. They wore skin-tight clothes of some metallic
silky stuff, and long flowing gleaming silvery capes. They looked
unearthly, elfin and strange, and in their own way they were beautiful.

The two Lhari in front of Bart had been talking softly, in their fast
twittering speech; but as the hum of the crowds on the upper levels grew
louder, they raised their voices, and Bart could hear what they were
saying. He was a little surprised to find that he could still understand
the Lhari language. He hadn’t heard a word of it in years–not since his
Mentorian mother died. The Lhari would never guess that he could
understand their speech. Not one human in a million could speak or
understand a dozen words of Lhari, except the Mentorians.

“Do you really think that _human_–” the first Lhari spoke the word as
if it were a filthy insult–“will have the temerity to come in by this
ship?”

“No reasonable being can tell what _humans_ will do,” said the second
Lhari. “But then, no reasonable being can tell what our own Port
Authorities will do either! If the message had only reached us sooner,
it would have been easier. Now I suppose it will have to clear through a
dozen officials and a dozen different kinds of formalities.”

The younger Lhari sounded angry. “And we have only a description–no
name, nothing! How do they expect us to do anything under those
conditions? What I can’t understand is how it ever happened, or how the
man managed to get away. What worries me is the possibility that he may
have communicated with others we don’t know about. Those bungling fools
who let the first man get away can’t even be sure–“

“Do not speak of it here,” said the old Lhari sharply. “There are
Mentorians in the crowd who might understand us.” He turned and looked
straight at Bart, and Bart felt as if the slanted strange eyes were
looking right through to his bones. The Lhari said, in Universal, “Who
are you, boy? What iss your businesssses here?”

Bart replied in the same language, politely, “My father’s coming in on
this ship. I’m looking for the information desk.”

“Up there,” said the old Lhari, pointing with a clawed hand, and lost
interest in Bart. He said to his companion, in their own language,
“Always, I regret these episodes. I have no malice against humans. I
suppose even this Vegan that we are seeking has young, and a mate, who
will regret his loss.”

“Then he should not have pried into Lhari matters,” said the younger
Lhari fiercely. “If they’d killed him right away–“

The soaring staircase swooped up to the top level; the two Lhari stepped
off and mingled swiftly with the crowd, being lost to sight. Bart
whistled in dismay as he got off and turned toward the information desk.
A Vegan! Some poor guy from his own planet was in trouble with the
Lhari. He felt a cold, crawling chill down his insides. The Lhari had
spoken regretfully, but the way they’d speak of a fly they couldn’t
manage to swat fast enough. Sooner or later you had to get down to it,
they just weren’t human!

Here on Earth, nothing much could happen, of course. They wouldn’t let
the Lhari hurt anyone–then Bart remembered his course in Universal Law.
The Lhari spaceport in every system, by treaty, was Lhari territory.
Once you walked beneath the lightning-flash sign, the authority of the
planet ceased to function; you might as well be on that unbelievably
remote world in another galaxy that was the Lhari home planet–that
world no human had ever seen. On a Lhari spaceport, or on a Lhari ship,
you were under the jurisdiction of Lhari law.

Tommy stepped off a moving stair and joined him. “The ship’s on time–it
reported past Luna City a few minutes ago. I’m thirsty–how about a
drink?”

There was a refreshment stand on this level; they debated briefly
between orange juice and a drink with a Lhari name that meant simply
_cold sweet_, and finally decided to try it. The name proved
descriptive; it was very cold, very sweet and indescribably delicious.

“Does this come from the Lhari world, I wonder?”

“I imagine it’s synthetic,” Bart said.

“I suppose it won’t _hurt_ us?”