The low rainbow building of Eight Colors, near the spaceport of Procyon Alpha, had not changed; and when Bart went in, as he had done a year ago, it seemed that the same varnished girl was sitting before the same glass desk, neon-edged and brittle, with the same chrome-tinged hair and blue fingernails. She looked at Bart in his Lhari clothing, at Meta in her Mentorian robe and cloak, at Ringg, and her unruffled dignity did not turn a hair.

"May I help you?" she inquired, still not caring.

"I want to see Raynor One."

"On what business, please?"

"Tell him," said Bart, with immense satisfaction, "that his boss is here—Bart Steele—and wants to see him right away."

It had a sort of disrupting effect. She seemed to go blurred at the edges. After a minute, blinking carefully, she spoke into the vision-screen, and reported, numbly, "Go on up, Mr. Steele."

He wasn't expecting a welcome. He said so as the elevator rose. "After all, if I'd never come back, he'd doubtless have inherited the whole Eight Colors line, unencumbered. I don't expect he'll be happy to see me. But he's the only one I can turn to."

The elevator stopped, opened. They stepped out, and a man stepped nervously toward them. For a moment, expecting Raynor One, Bart was deceived; then as the man's face spread in a smile of welcome, he stopped in incredulous delight.

"Raynor Three!"

In overflowing gladness, Bart hugged him. It was like a meeting with the dead. He felt as if he had really come home. "But—but you remember me!" he exclaimed, backing away, in amazement.

Slowly, the man nodded. His eyes were grave. "Yes. I decided it wasn't worth it, Bart, to go on losing everything that meant anything to me. Even if it meant I had to give up the stars, never travel again except as a passenger, I couldn't go on being afraid to remember, never knowing the consequences or responsibilities of what I'd done." His sad smile was strangely beautiful. "The Multiphase sailed without me. I've been here, hoping against hope that someday I'd know the rest."

Associations clicked into place in Bart's mind. The Multiphase. So Raynor Three was the Mentorian who had smuggled David Briscoe off the ship, and whose memories, wrung out by the Lhari captain of that ship, had touched off so many deaths. But he had paid for that—paid many times over. And now must he pay for this, too?

Raynor One strode toward them. "So it's really you. I thought it might be a trap, but Three wouldn't listen. Word came from Antares that Montano had been arrested and his ship confiscated for illegal landing on Lharillis. I thought you were probably dead."

"We sent a boy to do a man's job," Raynor Three said, "and he came back a man. But tell me—" He looked curiously at Ringg and Meta.

Bart introduced them, adding, "I came for help, really. I'm facing charges, and I'm afraid you are, too."

Raynor One said harshly, "A trap, after all, Three! He trapped you, and he's led the Lhari to you!"

"No," Raynor Three said, "or he wouldn't be walking around free and unguarded and with all his memories intact. Tell me about it, Bart." And when Bart had given a quick narration of the Lhari judgment, he nodded, slowly.

"That's all we ever wanted. Don't think you failed, Bart. The horrible part was only the way they were trying to keep it secret."

Ringg interrupted, "Do not judge the Lhari by them, Raynor Three," and Raynor Three said in good Lhari, "I don't, feathertop. Raynors have been working with Lhari since the days of Rhazon of Nedrus. But I wanted an open, official statement of Lhari policy—not secret murders by fanatics. I had confidence in the Lhari as a people, but not in individuals. What good did it do to know that the Lhari council in another galaxy would have condemned the murders and manhunts, when they were going on in this one, day after day?

"Don't you see, Bart?" he continued, "you didn't fail—not if we're going to have the publicity of a test case, publicly heard. That means the Lhari are prepared to admit, before our whole galaxy, that humans can survive warp-drive without cold-sleep. That's all David Briscoe was trying to prove, or your father either—may they rest in peace. So, whatever happens, we've won."

"If you two idealists will give me a minute for cold realities," Raynor One said, "there's this. Among other things. Bart's not yet of legal age. You may not know this, Bart, but your father appointed me your legal guardian. When I turned you over to Three, I'm afraid, I assumed legal responsibility for all the consequences. I ought to have kept you under my own supervision."

Bart smiled at Raynor One's stern face. "I crossed two galaxies, and faced the Lhari High Council, without you to hold my hand. I can face the Trade Federation."

"Naturally I will be responsible for your defense," Raynor One said stiffly.