Roman Gladiators

History and Interpretation of Gladiatorial Games

The Romans believed that they inherited the practice of gladiatorial games from the Etruscans who used them as part of a funeral ritual (servants would duel to the death for the right to provide companionship to their owners in eternity). We don't have any evidence, however, that the Etruscans, in fact, did any such thing. Conversely, we do have evidence of gladiators in Campanian society, perhaps of Samnite origin. The early Christians interpreted the gladiatorial games as a type of human sacrifice. While it is true that gladiatorial games involved the attempted killing of one person by another, and that the Romans associated them with funeral rituals, in fact, the analogy by the Christians seems to have been more a brilliant rhetorical move in the service of a larger anti-pagan polemic than a fair description of how Romans themselves understood the games.

The first gladiatorial games were offered in Rome in 264 BCE by sons of Junius Brutus Pera in their father's honor after he had died. Gladiatorial combat became a very popular form of public spectacle very quickly in Rome. Those who offered games began to compete in terms of the numbers of matches offered. Whereas the sons of Brutus Pera offered three matches, a century later, Titus Flamininus offered 74 pairs in games in honor of his father that lasted over three days. Julius Caesar promised 320 matches in funeral games for his daughter, Julia, but the Senate passed legislation limiting the amount of money that could be spent on gladiatorial games to stop him. Thus, during the Republic, gladiatorial combat was associated in Rome with a) a death and b) elite competition. Such displays provided members of the elite with a vehicle by which to advertise the newest generation in a family which sought to rule Romans.

The funeral association is as important for our analysis as the association with competition within the elite. Not merely were the games linked to a specific person's death, but they were also very much about death (during the Republic they were only held around the time of the winter equinox; Augustus later permitted gladiatorial games at the spring equinox as well). Gladiators entered the arena with the intent to kill each other. Roman spectators thus observed men facing death, and attempting to overcome it. In a metaphorical sense as well, gladiators were socially dead - they were infamis under Roman law (typically slaves, prisoners of war and convicted criminals who had a much more restricted set of rights under Roman law than ordinary citizens). If they fought well enough, however, they might, with the crowd's support, win both their lives (crowds could and did urge the editores, the sponsors of the games, to spare a defeated gladiator before the kill) and their social identities (crowds urged emperors to free gladiators who were popular). Thus, gladiators, from a Roman's point of view (if not a Christian's) offered at least the opportunity to observe death defeated and transcended.

What gladiators did (indeed what they were trained to do) was kill and die well. These were tasks of extraordinary urgency for Romans. On the one hand, Romans (as most premodern societies and impoverished modern societies) faced daunting mortality rates. They did not have the opportunity to "grow into their deaths" as a matter of course (as moderns in materially successful societies do). A Roman at the age of 20 knew he would probably die before he was 30, and he wanted to meet death with honor and dignity. He could observe gladiators do it in the arena. Conversely, as members of a relentlessly militaristic culture, Romans valued the art of killing in a way we simply don't understand. Roman soldiers, moreover, enjoyed a much greater autonomy in their line of battle than Greeks did. In fact, the success of the Roman battle line often depended on the courage of individual soldiers in hand to hand combat. Thus the ability of an ordinary citizen to kill single handedly was a skill that the entire empire depended on to survive.

Gladiatorial games proved immediately and immensely popular within the Roman empire. There are reports, for example, of people in towns where prominent citizens died virtually extorting promises of gladiatorial games from the survivors. Eventually, the emperors had to regulate how much could be spent on gladiatorial performances to prevent members of the elite from bankrupting themselves. As Rome expanded, so did the performance of the games. We have evidence of gladiatorial performances in virtually every part of the Roman empire. The games themselves became a vehicle for the Romanization of the empire. On the one hand, Roman soldiers liked to observe gladidatorial matches. Thus, lanistae (owner/managers of gladiatorial troops) would follow the troops to new quarters and offer matches for entertainment. This could be a highly profitable enterprise and it was not unusual for members of the elite to invest in gladiatorial troupes. Cicero's friend, Atticus, for example, made back his investment in a troupe after two performances. The games themselves provided ways for Rome to demonstrate the power of their empire. The sheer cost of the producing games was stunning. Contests involving animals from distant provinces demonstrated in a material way how far Rome's dominance reached. Inhabitants of towns in lands conquered by the Romans built amphitheaters and sponsored competitions as a way of demonstrating their Romanness. Historians traditionally had a great deal of difficulty accepting that the Greeks, for example, enthusiastically embraced the games (cf. Japanese enthusiasm for baseball), but, in fact, the Greeks loved gladiators. The Greeks were not alone. Mosaics and wall paintings from North Africa and other parts of the empire routinely use depictions of gladiatorial combat for their themes.

There are a number of reasons why gladiatorial combat proved so enthralling for Romans. The arena was a liminal site where fundamental human conflicts were symbolically fought. The gladiator as outlaw confronted the forces of civilization and law. Contestants who specialized in the fighting of animals fought in the guise of bears, leopards and lions - wild and, to folks living then, daunting forces of nature. Finally, at issue in every gladiatorial contest, was the most basic question of life and death.

Format of gladiatorial games

The Romans, throughout the history of the Republic, drew a sharp distinction between gladiatorial contests and other forms of spectacular entertainment. Games that the state sponsored were called ludi, were held quite frequently, never involved armed single combat, were associated with the worship of a god and were paid for (at least in part) by the public treasury. Gladiatorial shows, which the Romans called munera, in contrast, were sponsored by private individuals, were held very infrequently, were associated with funeral rituals, and were paid for privately. The change in Roman government initiated by Augustus blurred some of these distinctions (e.g. funding). Augustus, in fact, was quick to take control of the infrastructure of the gladiatorial entertainment business (the Roman state, for example, owned the schools where gladiators trained).

In addition to the armed individual gladiatorial contests, other spectacles became associated with gladiatorial games. Venationes were usually held in the morning of game days (but could be offered on their own). Bestiarii, or combatants trained to fight animals, were pitted against wild animals from all over the empire (bullfights and rodeos are the modern heirs and/or equivalents). The slaughter of wildlife in these contests was astonishing. Hundreds of deaths in a day were routine. At the games held by Trajan when he became Emperor, 9,000 were killed. Today we are appalled by scale of wanton destruction. But to folks living 2,000 years ago, wild animals were as much enemies as marauding Germanic tribes. While there are occasional reports of audience sympathy for the plight of animals (elephants in particular seemed to have been troubling), Romans overwhelming sided with the human combatants. The venationes symbolized the ability of human society to protect itself from hostile forces of nature and remained popular throughout the history of the empire. The Christians, for example, never attempted to outlaw venationes while they worked strenuously to end gladiatorial combat.

After the venationes, a typical spectacle would include a lunch interlude during which humiliores (Romans of non-elite status - execution by sword was a privilege reserved for the elite) who had been convicted of capital crimes were executed. Typically, the convicted were killed by burning at the stake or crucifixtion (forms of capital punishment that the Romans appeared to have adopted from the Carthaginians) or ad bestias (in which the convict would be left alone in the arena with one or more wild - and hungry - animals). Romans had a somewhat contradictory attitude towards these executions. On the one hand, like the venationes, the executions were welcome examples of the power of society, law and order, to restrain and suppress forces that threatened it. Public executions were popular. On the other hand, writers of elite status, seem to suggest that gentlemen and women didn't indulge themselves too much in this spectacle. The decent thing to do was go get lunch. Some writers, for example, criticized the Emperor Claudius because he routinely stayed in the stadium and observed the executions. To ordinary Romans, however, Claudius' presence indicated that the Emperor took his responsibility for preserving law and order seriously. The people executed were, by definition, wicked and dangerous. Their deaths were something to rejoice in. During the Principate they become something to revel in. Under Nero, the practice arose of writing plays adapted from myths in which people died and assigning the role of a character who would die to a condemned man. The audience would watch the play, and the actual killing of the condemned man in character's role (an ancient variant on a snuff film).

It was at these lunch time spectacles that Romans executed Christians when local or national officials were in a persecuting mode. Public response to these executions could vary dramatically. On the one hand, Christians who refused to sacrifice to the Roman gods, flagrantly rejected the norms of the society in which they lived. There are plenty of examples of communities demanding that their leaders send Christians to the arena for public execution (cf. accounts of Jews demanding that Pilate order the execution of Jesus). On the other hand, the "crime" of Christianity was quite different than the crimes of others executed in the arena (murder, temple theft, etc.). Christian sources, at least, report that the dignity of Christians in facing a spectacle intended to degrade and humiliate them, often inspired respect among the crowds in the stadium.


After lunch, the gladiatorial contest were held. Originally, gladiators were identified with ethnic names (e.g., Thracian or Samnite) which indicated the kind of weaponry they used, not the actual ethnic identity. In fact, the evidence suggests gladiators fought hard to resist the pseudo-ethnic labeling (there's a famous example of a gladiator of Samnite origin who fought as a "Thracian") and took care on their tombstones to indicate their true ethnic identities.

Samnites (later called secutores) carried oblong shields and short swords and wore plumed helmets with visors. Thracians carried small round shields and curved daggers. Gladiators called retiarii ("net men") carried nets to trip and hold their opponents and tridents which they used to finish off a captured victim. A Retariius typically fought a "Gallic" gladiator (also called a murmillo) who wore a rectangular shield and a visored helmet decorated with a fish (murmillo) or a Samnite. The vary names and distinctive weaponry of the gladiators displayed a history of the peoples Rome had defeated as her empire expanded. Interestingly enough, as the empire expanded and gladiatorial combat grew popular in the provinces, Romans began to drop the ethnic identification of gladiators for terms that described their costume or style of fighting (e.g. Samnites became secutores).

Gladiatorial Demography

Romans "recruited" gladiators from a number of population sources over the course of their history. Captured soldiers were a popular source, particularly in the years of Rome's imperial expansions. Even when the geographical limits of the empire had been established, soldiers of rebellious provinces remained a fruitful source of gladiators. Titus and Vespasian were able to eliminate extraordinary numbers of rebellious Jews by organizing gladiatorial games after they "pacified" Judea. Roman courts could sentence individuals convicted of serious criminal offenses to gladiatorial schools. Similarly owners of recalcitrant and/or fugitive slaves could sell these slaves ad ludos (or condemn them to death in public executions). Under the empire, however, laws were passed requiring owners to establish some basis (e.g., criminal behavior) for such treatment of a slave.

Despite the fact (perhaps because of the fact) that gladiatorial combat was so marked by "outlaw" and servile combatants, free citizens could and did become gladiators. To do so, they had to take an oath in which they agreed that they would submit to a) being branded; b) being chained; c) being killed by an iron weapon; d) to pay for the food and drink they received with their blood; and d) to suffer things even if they did not wish to. To agree, voluntarily, to such conditions was a renunciation of all the social benefits of citizenship in the Roman world (libertas, the sanctity of the citizen's body, etc.). Thus, the free citizens who chose to enter the arena were viewed with grave suspicion by members of the Roman elite. However, there is evidence that a substantial proportion of the gladiatorial forces (perhaps as many as half) were originally of citizen status (who voluntarily entered the gladiatorial schools) by the end of the Republic.

The choice for some citizens can be explained by economic factors. Gladiators got three square meals a day, decent medical care, and if they were good, survived to freedom. They also had the opportunity to win purses that editores would frequently offer as bonus in competitions. If they survived they would win their freedom. And although they could never be citizens, their children could. For citizens of higher social status who had fallen on hard times (scholars always posit the example of a Roman who lost his fortune in the a lawsuit) or economically marginal citizens without a trade, career options were limited to the army (with a strict disciplinary system), teaching (for the literate who were willing to fight for fees) and the gladiatorial schools.

Another category of gladiator that should interest us is women. Women fought as gladiators. The author of an inscription from Pompeii boasts that he was the first editor in his town to bring women into the arena. The practice appears to have been widespread and did not end until specifically outlawed by the Emperor Septimius Severus in the early 3rd century, C.E. The female gladiator is perhaps the most marginal symbol available and there was no doubt some purient interest aroused by these spectacles. The presence of women in the arena, however, suggests that Romans looked upon the particular virtus [skill in killing and dying well] gladiators symbolized as something that existed almost before gender.

There were also citizens, particularly during the Principate, who fought as gladiators as a political statement. Under the Republic, the marginal social status of the gladiator reinforced Roman belief in the superior status of citizens. As Rome suffered civil war and then virtual monarchy, members of the elite would sometimes choose to fight in the arena as a way of demonstrating that the Augustan ideology of the "Republic Restored" was so much bunk. All citizens, they suggested, now were no better than slaves. Conversely, some Emperors, themselves became obsessed with arena. Caligula forced free born citizens to fight as gladiators. The Emperor Commodus is said to have fought as a gladiator in 1000 contests. These "bad" Emperors, who were themselves liminal figures, marking the line between divine and mortal, used the arena to demonstrate their authority and diminish that of the elite. Emperors who appeared as gladiators did what no citizen should dare to do. Emperors who compelled citizens to appear as gladiators demonstated that mere citizen status meant nothing when compared with imperial status.

Romans accepted and supported the Principate, however, because emperors implicitly promised to maintain the integrity of Rome's complex hierarchy of social status. "Good" emperors were sensitive to the complexity of their power relations with Romans across the penumbra of statuses within Roman society. A "good" emperor appeared at the games, and attended to the populace's expression of their will. A "good" Emperor supported the spectacles as a way of demonstrating the ability of Rome to protect its citizenry from internal threats to its law and order, and the historic ability of Rome to spread this protection across the Mediterranean basin and beyond. A "good" Emperor, thus enjoyed the games, but not too much.

How were they trained?

While the prospect of taking the gladiator's oath no doubt horrifies us, relative to the life Romans at the economic margin enjoyed, conditions in gladiatorial schools were not that bad. It is true that the conditions in the school where Spartacus trained were bad enough to spark the worst slave revolt in Roman history. However, this school was an anomaly. Owners and trainers conceived of gladiators as an investment. Skimping on the schools simply didn't make sense. Gladiators received a reasonable diet (a high protein/fat diet in training) and good (for the day) medical care. They formed enduring relationships with women that resulted in children, and if they survived to freedom, legally recognized marriages and families. Within the community of gladiators they, like all Romans, formed collegia and shared a cult worship of the god Hercules. In fact, in a bizarre way, the gladiatorial schools seem to have provided their inhabitants with a vital, united and committed community (admittedly predicated on the possibility that one might have to kill another). Gladiators were trained not merely how to fight well, but how to make an efficient killing blow and, if defeated, how to offer one's body for the most effective coup de grace. In cases where gladiators or bestarii were mortally wounded in the arena, the accepted practice seems to have been to remove them from public view before executing the killing blow. Typically gladiators fought a handful of matches a year, and would, if they survived, win there freedom after a number (which varied widely depending on time and place) their freedom. Even gladiators who lost a match could survive if the audience pleaded their case to the editor.

Despite their servile and "outlaw" legal and social status, gladiators often enjoyed great social prestige. Young Roman boys liked to hang out at gladiator schools and even take lessons there [parents hated this]. Roman matrons particularly enjoyed having affairs with gladiators [or at least Roman men often worried that they did]. The 'pop' celebrity of gladiators, like the 'pop' celebrity of athletes today, indicates the extraordinary importance of the battles they fought in the arena to the construction and maintaince of Romanitas.

An appeal from Wikipedia founder Jimmy Wales

I got a lot of funny looks ten years ago when I started talking to people about Wikipedia. Let’s just say some people were skeptical of the notion that volunteers from all across the world could come together to create a remarkable pool of human knowledge – all for the simple purpose of sharing.

No ads. No agenda. No strings attached.
A decade after its founding, nearly 400 million people use Wikipedia and its sister sites every month - almost a third of the Internet-connected world.

It is the 5th most popular website in the world - but Wikipedia isn’t anything like a commercial website. It is a community creation, written by volunteers making one entry at a time. You are part of our community. And I’m writing today to ask you to protect and sustain Wikipedia.

Together, we can keep it free of charge and free of advertising. We can keep it open – you can use the information in Wikipedia any way you want. We can keep it growing – spreading knowledge everywhere, and inviting participation from everyone.

Each year at this time, we reach out to ask you and others all across the Wikimedia community to help sustain our joint enterprise with a modest donation of $20, $35, $50 or more.

If you value Wikipedia as a source of information – and a source of inspiration – I hope you’ll choose to act right now.

All the best,

Jimmy Wales

Founder, Wikipedia

P.S. Wikipedia is about the power of people like us to do extraordinary things. People like us write Wikipedia, one word at a time. People like us fund it, one donation at a time. It's proof of our collective potential to change the world.

http://wikimediafoundation.org/wiki/Donate

THE COLORS OF SPACE

By Marion Zimmer Bradley

SUDDEN PANIC
It was a week before the Lhari ship went into warp-drive, and all that time young Bart Steele had stayed in his cabin. He was so bored with his own company that the Mentorian medic was a welcome sight when he came to prepare him for _cold-sleep_.
The Mentorian paused, needle in hand. "Do you wish to be wakened for the time we shall spend in each of the three star systems, sir? You can, of course, be given enough drug to keep you in cold-sleep until we reach your destination."
Bart felt tempted--he wanted very much to see the other star systems.But he couldn't risk meeting other passengers.
The needle went into his arm. In sudden panic, he realized he was helpless. The ship would touch down on three worlds, and on any of them the Lhari might have his description, or his alias! He could be taken off, unconscious, and might never wake up! He tried to move, to protest,but he couldn't. There was a freezing moment of intense cold and then nothing....

CHAPTER ONE
The Lhari spaceport didn't belong on Earth.
Bart Steele had thought that, a long time ago, when he first saw it. He had been just a kid then; twelve years old, and all excited about seeing Earth for the first time--Earth, the legendary home of mankind before the Age of Space, the planet of Bart's far-back ancestors. And the first thing he'd seen on Earth, when he got off the star ship, was the Lhari space port.
And he'd thought, right then, _It doesn't belong on Earth._
He'd said so to his father, and his father's face had gone strange,bitter and remote.
"A lot of people would agree with you, Son," Captain Rupert Steele had said softly. "The trouble is, if the Lhari spaceport wasn't on Earth, we wouldn't be on Earth either. Remember that."
Bart remembered it, five years later, as he got off the strip of moving sidewalk. He turned to wait for Tommy Kendron, who was getting his baggage off the center strip of the moving roadway.
Bart Steele and Tommy Kendron had graduated together, the day before, from the Space Academy of Earth. Now Tommy, who had been born on the ninth planet of the star Capella, was taking the Lhari starship to his faraway home, and Bart's father was coming back to Earth, on the same starship, to meet his son.
_Five years,_ Bart thought. _That's a long time. I wonder if Dad will know me?_
"Let me give you a hand with that stuff, Tommy."
"I can manage," Tommy chuckled, hefting the plastic cases. "They don't allow you much baggage weight on the Lhari ships. Certainly not more than I can handle."
The two lads stood in front of the spaceport gate for a minute. Over the gate, which was high and pointed and made of some clear colorless material like glass, was a jagged symbol resembling a flash of lightning; the sign, in Lhari language, for the home world of the Lhari.
They walked through the pointed glass gate, and stood for a moment, by mutual consent, looking down over the vast expanse of the Lhari spaceport.
This had once been a great desert. Now it was all floored in with some strange substance that was neither glass, metal nor concrete; it looked like gleaming crystal--though it felt soft underfoot--and in the glare of the noonday sun, it gave back the glare in a million rainbow flashes.Tommy put his hands up to his eyes to shield them. "The Lhari must have funny eyes, if they can stand all this glare!"
Inside the glass gate, a man in a guards uniform gave them each a pairof dark glasses. "Put them on now, boys. And don't look directly at the ship when it lands."
Tommy hooked the earpieces of the dark glasses over his ears, and sighed with relief. Bart frowned, but finally put them on. Bart's mother had been a Mentorian--from the planet Mentor, of the star Deneb, a hundred times brighter than the sun. Bart had her eyes. But Mentorians weren't popular on Earth, and Bart had learned to be quiet about his mother.
Through the dark lenses, the glare was only a pale gleam. Far out in the very center of the spaceport, a high, clear-glass skyscraper rose,catching the sunlight in a million colors. Around the building, small copters and robot cabs veered, discharging passengers; and the moving sidewalks were crowded with people coming and going.
Here and there In the crowd, standing out because of their height and the silvery metallic cloaks they wore, were the strange tall figures of the Lhari.
"Well, how about going down?" Tommy glanced impatiently at his timepiece. "Less than half an hour before the star ship touches down."
"All right. We can get a sidewalk over here." Reluctantly, Bart tore his eyes from the fascinating spectacle, and followed Tommy, stepping onto one of the sidewalks. It bore them down a long, sloping ramp toward the floor of the spaceport, then sped toward the glass skyscraper; came to rest at the wide pointed doors, depositing them in the midst of the crowd. The jagged lightning flash was there over the doors of the building, and the words:

HERE, BY THE GRACE OF THE LHARI, IS THE DOORWAY TO ALL THE STARS.
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 metallicsilky 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 grewl ouder, 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 hisMentorian 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 asif it were a filthy insult--"will have the temerity to come in by thisship?"
"No reasonable being can tell what _humans_ will do," said the secondLhari. "But then, no reasonable being can tell what our own PortAuthorities 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 areMentorians 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--itreported 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?"
Bart laughed. "They wouldn't serve it to us if it would. No, men and Lhari are alike in a lot of ways. They breathe the same air. Eat about the same food." Their bodies were adjusted to about the same gravity.They had the same body chemistry--in fact, you couldn't tell Lhari blood from human, even under a microscope.
And in the terrible Orion Spaceport wreck sixty years ago, doctors had found that blood plasma from humans could be used for wounded Lhari, and vice versa, though it wasn't safe to transfuse whole blood. But then, even among humans there were five blood types.
And yet, for all their likeness, they were _different_.
Bart sipped the cold Lhari drink, seeing himself in the mirror behind the refreshment stand; a tall teen-ager, looking older than his seventeen years. He was lithe and well muscled from five years of sports and acrobatics at the Space Academy, he had curling red hair and gray eyes, and he was almost as tall as a Lhari.
_Will Dad know me? I was just a little kid when he left me here, and now I'm grown-up._
Tommy grinned at him in the mirror. "What are you going to do, now we've finished our so-called education?"
"What do you think? Go back to Vega with Dad, by Lhari ship, and help him run Vega Inter planet. Why else would I bother with all that astrogation and math?"
"You're the lucky one, with your father owning a dozen ships! He must be almost as rich as the Lhari."
Bart shook his head. "It's not that easy. Space travel inside a system these days is small stuff; all the real travel and shipping goes to the Lhari ships."
It was a sore point with everyone. Thousands of years ago, men had spread out from Earth--first to the planets, then to the nearer stars,crawling in ships that could travel no faster than the speed of light.They had even believed that was an absolute limit--that nothing in the universe could exceed the speed of light. It took years to go from Earth to the nearest star.
But they'd done it. From the nearer stars, they had sent out colonizing ships all through the galaxy. Some vanished and were never heard from again, but some made it, and in a few centuries man had spread all over hundreds of star-systems.
And then man met the people of the Lhari.
It was a big universe, with measureless millions of stars, and plenty of room for more than two intelligent civilizations. It wasn't surprising that the Lhari, who had only been traveling space for a couple of thousand years themselves, had never come across humans before. But they had been delighted to meet another intelligent race--and it was extremely profitable.
Because men were still held, mostly, to the planets of their own star-systems. Ships traveling between the stars by light-drive were rare and ruinously expensive. But the Lhari had the warp-drive, and almost overnight the whole picture changed. By warp-drive, hundreds of times faster than light at peak, the years-long trip between Vega and Earth, for instance, was reduced to about three months, at a price anyone could pay. Mankind could trade and travel all over their galaxy, but they didit on Lhari ships. The Lhari had an absolute, unbreakable monopoly onstar travel.
"That's what hurts," Tommy said. "It wouldn't do us any good to have the star-drive. Humans can't stand faster-than-light travel, except in cold-sleep."
Bart nodded. The Lhari ships traveled at normal speeds, like the regular planetary ships, inside each star-system. Then, at the borders of the vast gulf of emptiness between stars, they went into warp-drive; but first, every human on board was given the cold-sleep treatment that placed them in suspended animation, allowing their bodies to endure the warp-drive.
He finished his drink. The increasing bustle in the crowds below them told him that time must be getting short. A tall, impressive-looking Lhari strode through the crowd, followed at a respectful distance by two Mentorians, tall, redheaded humans wearing metallic cloaks like those of the Lhari. Tommy nudged Bart, his face bitter.
"Look at those lousy Mentorians! How can they do it? Fawning upon the Lhari that way, yet they're as human as we are! _Slaves_ of the Lhari!"
Bart felt the involuntary surge of anger, instantly controlled. "It's not that way at all. My mother was a Mentorian, remember. She made five cruises on a Lhari ship before she married my father."
Tommy sighed. "I guess I'm just jealous--to think the Mentorians can sign on the Lhari ship as crew, while you and I will never pilot a ship between the stars. What did she do?"
"She was a mathematician. Before the Lhari met up with men, they used a system of mathematics as clumsy as the old Roman numerals. You have to admire them, when you realize that they learned stellar navigation with their old system, though most ships use human math now. And of course,you know their eyes aren't like ours. Among other things, they'recolor-blind. They see everything in shades of black or white or gray.
"So they found out that humans aboard their ships were useful. You remember how humans, in the early days in space, used certain birds, who were more sensitive to impure air than they were. When the birds keeled over, they could tell it was time for humans to start looking over the air systems! The Lhari use Mentorians to identify colors for them. And,since Mentor was the first planet of humans that the Lhari had contact with, they've always been closer to them."
Tommy looked after the two Mentorians enviously. "The fact is, I'd ship out with the Lhari myself if I could. Wouldn't you?"
Bart's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "No," he said. "I could--I'm half Mentorian, I can even speak Lhari."
"Why don't you? I would."
"Oh, no, you wouldn't," Bart said softly. "Not even very many Mentorians will. You see, the Lhari don't trust humans too much. In the early days,men were always planting spies on Lhari ships, to try and steal the secret of warp-drive. They never managed it, but nowadays the Lhari give all the Mentorians what amounts to a brainwashing--deep hypnosis, before and after every voyage, so that they can neither look for anything thatmight threaten the Lhari monopoly of space, nor reveal it--even under a truth drug--if they find it out.
"You have to be pretty fanatical about space travel to go through that.Oh, my mother could tell us a lot of things about her cruises with the Lhari. The Lhari can't tell a diamond from a ruby, except by spectrographic analysis, for instance. And she--"
A high gong note sounded somewhere, touching off an explosion of warning bells and buzzers all over the enormous building. Bart looked up.
"The ship must be coming in to land."
"I'd better check into the passenger side," Tommy said. He stuck out hishand. "Well, Bart, I guess this is where we say good-bye."
They shook hands, their eyes meeting for a moment in honest grief. Insome indefinable way, this parting marked the end of their boyhood.
"Good luck, Tom. I'm going to miss you."
They wrung each other's hands again, hard. Then Tommy picked up hisluggage and started down a sloping ramp toward an enclosure marked TO PASSENGER ENTRANCE.
Warning bells rang again. The glare intensified until the glow in thesky was unendurable, but Bart looked anyhow, making out the strangeshape of the Lhari ship from the stars.
It was huge and strange, glowing with colors Bart had never seen before.It settled down slowly, softly: enormous, silent, vibrating, glowing; then swiftly faded to white-hot, gleaming blue, dulling down through thevisible spectrum to red. At last it was just gleaming glassy Lhari-metalcolor again. High up in the ship's side a yawning gap slid open,extruding stairsteps, and men and Lhari began to descend.
Bart ran down a ramp and surged out on the field with the crowd. Hiseyes, alert for his father's tall figure, noted with surprise that theship's stairs were guarded by four cloaked Lhari, each with a Mentorianinterpreter. They were stopping each person who got off the starship,asking for identity papers. Bart realized he was seeing another segmentof the same drama he had overheard discussed, and wished he knew what itwas all about.
The crowd was thinning now. Robotcabs were swerving in, hovering abovethe ground to pick up passengers, then veering away. The gap in thestarship's side was closing, and still Bart had not seen the tall, slim,flame-haired figure of his father. The port on the other side of theship, he knew, was for loading passengers. Bart moved carefully throughthe thinning crowd, almost to the foot of the stairs.
One of the Lharichecking papers stopped and fixed him with an inscrutable gray stare,but finally turned away again.
Bart began really to worry. Captain Steele would never miss his ship!But he saw only one disembarking passenger who had not yet beensurrounded by a group of welcoming relatives, or summoned a robotcab andgone. The man was wearing Vegan clothes, but he wasn't Bart's father. Hewas a fat little man, with ruddy cheeks and a fringe of curling grayhair all around his bald dome. _Maybe he'd know if there was anotherVegan on the ship._
Then Bart realized that the little fat man was staring straight at him.He returned the man's smile, rather hesitantly; then blinked, for thefat man was coming straight toward him.
"Hello, Son," the fat man said loudly. Then, as two of the Lhari startedtoward him, the strange man did an incredible thing. He reached out histwo hands and grabbed Bart.
"Well, boy, you've sure grown," he said, in a loud, cheerful voice, "butyou're not too grown-up to give your old Dad a good hug, are you?" Hepulled Bart roughly into his arms. Bart started to pull away and stammerthat the fat man had made a mistake, but the pudgy hand gripped hiswrist with unexpected strength.
"Bart, listen to me," the stranger whispered, in a harsh fast voice. "Goalong with this or we're both dead. See those two Lhari watching us?
Call me Dad, good and loud, if you want to live. Because, believe me,your life's in danger--right now!"

CHAPTER TWO
For a moment, pulled off balance in the fat stranger's hug, Bartremained perfectly still, while the man repeated in that loud, jovialvoice, "How you've grown!" He let him go, stepping away a pace or two,and whispered urgently, "Say something. And take that stupid look offyour face."
As he stepped back, Bart saw his eyes. In the chubby, good-natured redface, the stranger's eyes were half-mad with fear.
In a split second, Bart remembered the two Lhari and their talk of afugitive. In that moment, Bart Steele grew up.
He stepped toward the man and took him quickly by the shoulders.
"Dad, you sure surprised me," he said, trying to keep his voice fromshaking. "Been such a long time, I'd--half forgotten what you lookedlike. Have a good trip?"
"About like always." The fat man was breathing hard, but his voicesounded firm and cheerful. "Can't compare with a trip on the old_Asterion_ though." The _Asterion_ was the flagship of Vega Interplanet,Rupert Steele's own ship. "How's everything?"
Beads of sweat were standing out on the man's ruddy forehead, and hisgrip on Bart's wrist was so hard it hurt. Bart, grasping at random forsomething to say, gabbled, "Too bad you couldn't get to my graduation. Imade th-third in a class of four hundred--"
The Lhari had surrounded them and were closing in.
The fat man took a deep breath or two, said, "Just a minute, Son," andturned around. "You want something?"
The tallest of the Lhari--the old one, whom Bart had seen on theescalator--looked long and hard at him. When they spoke Universal, theirvoices were sibilant, but not nearly so inhuman.
"Could we trrrouble you to sssshow us your paperrrssss?"
"Certainly." Nonchalantly, the fat man dug them out and handed themover. Bart saw his father's name printed across the top.
The Lhari gestured to a Mentorian interpreter: "What colorrr isss thisssman's hairrr?"
The Mentorian said in the Lhari language, "His hair is _gray_." He used 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 issstall, not fat."
"The boy is tall and with _red_ hair," the Mentorian volunteered, andthe old Lhari made a gesture of disdain.
"This boy is twenty years younger than the man whose description came tous. Why did they not give us a picture or at least a name?" He turned tothe other Lhari and said in their own shrill speech, "I suspected thisman because he was alone.
And I had seen this boy on the upper mezzanineand spoken with him. We watched him, knowing sooner or later the fatherwould seek him. Ask him." He gestured and the Mentorian said, "Who isthis man, you?"
Bart gulped. For the first time he noted the energon-ray shockers at thebelts of the four Lhari. He'd heard about those. They could stun--orthey could kill, and quite horribly. He said, "This is my father. Youwant my cards, too?" He hauled out his identity papers. "My name's BartSteele."
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'tknow 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 Lhariship? He wanted to run, to burst away from the imposter, but the guy wasshaking 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, andpunched a button at the stand for one of the unmanned robotcabs. It swung down, hovered motionless. Bart boosted the fat man in. Inside, theman collapsed on the seat, leaning back, puffing, his hand pressed hardto 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 myfather?_"
The man's eyes were half-shut. He said, gasping, "Don't ask me anyquestions for a minute." He thumbed a tablet into his mouth, andpresently his breathing quieted.
"We're safe--for the minute. Those Lhari would have cut us down."
"You, maybe. I haven't done anything. Look, you," Bart said in suddenrage, "you owe me some explanations. For all I know, you're a criminaland the Lhari have every right to chase you! Why have you got myfather's papers? Did you steal them to get away from the Lhari? _Where'smy father?_"
"It's your father they were looking for, you young fool," said the man, gasping hard. "Lucky they had only a description and not a name--butthey've probably got that by now, uncoded. We've only confused them for a little while. But if you hadn't played along, they'd have had you watched, and when they get hold of the name Steele--they will, sooner or later, the people in the Procyon system--"
_"Where is my father?"_
"I hope I don't know," the fat man said. "If he's still where I lefthim, he's dead. My name is Briscoe. Edmund Briscoe. Your father saved mylife years ago, never mind how. The less you know, the safer you'll befor a while. His major worry just now is about you. He was afraid, if hedidn't turn up here, you'd take the first ship back to Vega. So he gaveme his papers and sent me to warn you--"
Bart shook his head. "It all sounds phony as can be. How do I know whether to believe you or not?" His hand hovered over the robotcabcontrols. "We're going straight to the police. If you're okay, theywon't turn you over to the Lhari. If you're not--"
"You young fool," said the fat man, with feeble violence, "there's no_time_ for all that! Ask me questions--I can prove I know your father!"
"What was my mother's name?"
"Oh, God," Briscoe said, "I never saw her. I knew your father long before you were born. Until he told me, I never knew he'd married or had a son. I'd never have known you, except that you're the living image--" He shook his head helplessly, and his breathing sounded hoarse.
"Bart, I'm a sick man, I'm going to die. I want to do what I came hereto do, because your father saved my life once when I was young andhealthy, and gave me twenty good years before I got old and fat and sick. Win or lose, I won't live to see you hunted down like a dog, likemy own son--"
"Don't talk like that," Bart said, a creepy feeling coming over him. "Ifyou're sick, let me take you to a doctor."
Briscoe did not even hear. "Wait, there is something else. Your fathersaid, 'Tell Bart I've gone looking for the Eighth Color. Bart will know what I mean.'"
"That's crazy. I don't know--"
He broke off, for the memory had come, full-blown:
_He was very young: five, six, seven. His mother, tall and slender and
very fair, was bending over a blueprint, pointing with a delicate finger at something, straightening, saying in her light musical voice:_
_"The fuel catalyst--it's a strange color, a color you never sawanywhere. Can you_ think _of a color that isn't red, orange, yellow,green, blue, violet, indigo or some combination of them? It isn't any ofthe colors of the spectrum at all. The fuel is a real eighth color."_
_And his father had used the phrase, almost adopted it. "When we know what the eighth color is, we'll have the secret of the star-drive,too!"_
Briscoe saw his face change, nodded weakly. "I see it means something to you. Now will you do as I tell you? Within a couple of hours, they'll becombing the planet for you, but by that time the ship I came in on willhave taken off again. They only stop a short time here, for mail,passengers--no cargo. They may get under way again before all messagesare cleared and decoded." He stopped and breathed hard. "The Earthauthorities might protect you, but you would never be able to board aLhari ship again--and that would mean staying on Earth for the rest ofyour life. You've got to get away before they start comparing notes.Here." His hand went into his pockets. "For your hair. It's a dye--a spray."
He pressed a button on the bulb in his hand; Bart gasped, feeling coldwetness on his head. His own hand came away stained black.
"Keep still." Briscoe said irritably. "You'll need it at the Procyon endof the run. Here." He stuck some papers into Bart's hand, then punchedsome buttons on the robotcab's control. It wheeled and swerved sorapidly that Bart fell against the fat man's shoulder.
"Are you crazy? What are you going to do?"
Briscoe looked straight into Bart's eyes. In his hoarse, sick voice, hesaid, "Bart, don't worry about me. It's all over for me, whateverhappens. Just remember this. What your father is doing is _worth_ doing,and if you start stalling, arguing, demanding explanations, you can foulup a hundred people--and kill about half of them."
He closed Bart's fingers roughly over the papers. The robotcab hoveredover the spaceport. "Now listen to me, very carefully. When I stop thecab, down below, jump out. Don't stop to say good-bye, or ask questions,or anything else. Just get out, walk straight through the passenger doorand straight up the ramp of the ship. Show them that ticket, and get on.Whatever happens, don't let anything stop you. Bart!" Briscoe shook hisshoulder. "Promise! Whatever happens, you'll _get on that ship_!"
Bart swallowed, feeling as if he'd been shoved into a sillycops-and-robbers game. But Briscoe's urgency had convinced him. "Where am I going?"
"All I have is a name--Raynor Three," Briscoe said, "and the messageabout the Eighth Color. That's all I know." His mouth twisted again inthat painful gasp.
The cab swooped down. Bart found his voice. "But what then? Is Dad there? Will I know--"
"I don't know any more than I've told you," Briscoe said. Abruptly therobotcab came to a halt, swaying a little. Briscoe jerked the door open,gave Bart a push, and Bart found himself stumbling out on the rampbeside the spaceport building. He caught his balance, looked around, andrealized that the robotcab was already climbing the sky again.
Immediately before him, neon letters spelled TO PASSENGER ENTRANCEONLY. Bart stumbled forward. The Lhari by the gate thrust out adisinterested claw. Bart held up what Briscoe had shoved into his hand,only now seeing that it was a thin wallet, a set of identity papers and astrip of pink tickets.
"Procyon Alpha. Corridor B, straight through." The Lhari gestured, andBart went through the narrow passageway, came out at the other end, andfound himself at the very base of a curving stair that led up and uptoward a door in the side of the huge Lhari ship. Bart hesitated. Inanother minute he'd be on his way to a strange sun and a strange world,on what might well be the wild-goose chase of all time.
Passengers were crowding the steps behind him. Someone shouted suddenly,"Look at that!" and someone else yelled, "Is that guy crazy?"
Bart looked up. A robotcab was swooping over the spaceport in wild, crazy circles, dipping down, suddenly making a dart like an enraged waspat a little nest of Lhari. They ducked and scattered; the robotcabswerved away, hovered, swooped back. This time it struck one of theLhari grazingly with landing gear and knocked him sprawling. Bart stoodwith his mouth open, as if paralyzed.
_Briscoe! What was he doing?_
The fallen Lhari lay without moving. The robotcab moved in again, as iffor the kill, buzzing viciously overhead.
Then a beam of light arced from one of the drawn energon-ray tubes. Therobotcab glowed briefly red, then seemed to sag, sink together; then puddled, a slag heap of molten metal, on the glassy floor of the port. Alittle moan of horror came from the crowd, and Bart felt a sudden,wrenching sickness. It had been like a game, a silly game of cops androbbers, and suddenly it was as serious as melted death lying there onthe spaceport. _Briscoe!_
Someone shoved him and said, "Come on, quit gawking, kid. They won'thold the ship all day just because some nut finds a new way to commitsuicide."
Bart, his legs numb, walked up the ramp. Briscoe had died to give himthis chance. Now it was up to him to make it worth having.

CHAPTER THREE
At the top of the ramp, a Lhari glanced briefly at his papers, motionedhim through. Bart passed through the airlock, and into a brightly litcorridor half full of passengers. The line was moving slowly, and forthe first time Bart had a chance to think.
He had never seen violent death before. In this civilized world, youdidn't. He knew if he thought about Briscoe, he'd start bawling like ababy, so he swallowed hard a couple of times, set his chin, andconcentrated on the trip to Procyon Alpha. That meant this ship wasoutbound on the Aldebaran run--Proxima Centauri, Sirius, Pollux,Procyon, Capella and Aldebaran.
The line of passengers was disappearing through a doorway. A woman aheadof Bart turned and said nervously, "We won't be put into cold-sleepright away, will we?"
He reassured her, remembering his inbound trip five years ago. "No, no.The ship won't go into warp-drive until we're well past Pluto. It willbe several days, at least."
Beyond the doorway the lights dwindled, and a Mentorian interpreter tookhis dark glasses, saying, "Kindly remove your belt, shoes and otheraccessories of leather or metal before stepping into the decontaminationchamber. They will be separately decontaminated and returned to you.
Papers, please."
With a small twinge of fright, Bart surrendered them. Would theMentorian ask why he was carrying two wallets? Inside the other one, hestill had his Academy ID card which identified him as Bart Steele, andif the Mentorian looked through them to check, and found out he was carrying two sets of identity papers....
But the Mentorian merely dumped all his pocket paraphernalia, without looking at it, into a sack. "Just step through here."
Holding up his trousers with both hands, Bart stepped inside theindicated cubicle. It was filled with faint bluish light. Bart felt astrong tingling and a faint electrical smell, and along his forearms there was a slight prickling where the small hairs were all standing on end. He knew that the invisible R-rays were killing all the microorganisms in his body, so that no disease germ or stray fungus would be carried from planet to planet.
The bluish light died. Outside, the Mentorian gave him back his shoes and belt, handed him the paper sack of his belongings, and a paper cupfull of greenish fluid.
"Drink this."
"What is it?"
The medic said patiently, "Remember, the R-rays killed _all_ themicroorganisms in your body, including the good ones--the antibodiesthat protect you against disease, and the small yeasts and bacteria thatlive in your intestines and help in the digestion of your food. So wehave to replace those you need to stay healthy. See?"
The green stuff tasted a little brackish, but Bart got it down allright. He didn't much like the idea of drinking a solution of "germs,"but he knew that was silly. There was a big difference between disease germs and helpful bacteria.
Another Mentorian official, this one a young woman, gave him a key witha numbered tag, and a small booklet with WELCOME ABOARD printedon the cover.
The tag was numbered 246-B, which made Bart raise his eyebrows. B class was normally too expensive for Bart's father's modest purse. It wasn't quite the luxury class A, reserved for planetary governors and ambassadors, but it was plenty luxurious. Briscoe had certainly sent him traveling in style!
B Deck was a long corridor with oval doors; Bart found one numbered 246,and, not surprisingly, the key opened it. It was a pleasant littlecabin, measuring at least six feet by eight, and he would evidently haveit to himself. There was a comfortably big bunk, a light that could beturned on and off instead of the permanent glow-walls of the cheaperclass, a private shower and toilet, and a placard on the walls informinghim that passengers in B class had the freedom of the Observation Domeand the Recreation Lounge. There was even a row of buttons dispensing synthetic foods, in case a passenger preferred privacy or didn't want towait for meals in the dining hall.
A buzzer sounded and a Mentorian voice announced, "Five minutes to Room Check. Passengers will please remove all metal in their clothing, anddeposit in the lead drawers. Passengers will please recline in their bunks and fasten the retaining straps before the steward arrives.Repeat, passengers will please...."
Bart took off his belt, stuck it and his cuff links in the drawer and lay down. Then, in a sudden panic, he got up again. His papers as Bart Steele were still in the sack. He got them out, and with a feeling as ifhe were crossing a bridge and burning it after him, tore up every scrapof paper that identified him as Bart Steele of Vega Four, graduate ofthe Space Academy of Earth. Now, for better or worse, he was--who _was_he? He hadn't even looked at the new papers Briscoe had given him!
He glanced through them quickly. They were made out to David Warren Briscoe, of Aldebaran Four. According to them, David Briscoe was twentyyears old, hair black, eyes hazel, height six foot one inch. Bartwondered, painfully, if Briscoe had a son and if David Briscoe knew where his father was. There was also a license, validated with four runson the Aldebaran Intrasatellite Cargo Company--planetary ships--with therank of Apprentice Astrogator; and a considerable sum of money.
Bart put the papers in his pants pocket and the torn-up scraps of hisold ones into the trashbin before he realized that they looked exactlylike what they were--torn-up legal identity papers and a broken plastic card. _Nobody_ destroyed identity papers for any good reason. What could he do?
Then he remembered something from the Academy. Starships wereclosed-system cycles, no waste was discarded, but everything was collected in big chemical tanks, broken down to separate elements, purified and built up again into new materials. He threw the paper into the toilet, worked the plastic card back and forth, back and forth untilhe had wrenched it into inch-wide bits, and threw it after them.
The cabin door opened and a Mentorian said irritably, "Please lie downand fasten your straps. I haven't all day."
Hastily Bart flushed the toilet and went to the bunk. Now everythingthat could identify him as Bart Steele was on its way to the breakdown tanks. Before long, the complex hydrocarbons and cellulose would all beinnocent little molecules of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen; they might turnup in new combinations as sugar on the table!
The Mentorian grumbled, "You young people think the rules mean everybody but you," and strapped him far too tightly into the bunk. Bart felt resentful; just because Mentorians could work on Lhari ships, did theyhave to act as if they owned everybody?
When the man had gone, Bart drew a deep breath. Was he really doing theright thing?
If he'd refused to get out of the robotcab--
If he'd driven Briscoe straight to the police--
Then maybe Briscoe would still be alive. And now it was too late.
A warning siren went off in the ship, rising to hysterical intensity.Bart thought, incredulously, _this is really happening_. It felt like anightmare. His father a fugitive from the Lhari. Briscoe dead. Hehimself traveling, with forged papers, to a star he'd never seen.
He braced himself, knowing the siren was the last warning beforetakeoff. First there would be the hum of great turbines deep in theship, then the crushing surge of acceleration. He had made a dozen tripsinside the solar system, but no matter how often he did it, there wasthe strange excitement, the little pinpoint of fear, like an exotictaste, that was almost pleasant.
The door opened and Bart grabbed a fistful of bed-ticking as two Lharicame into the room.
One of them said, in their strange shrill speech, "This boy is the rightage."
Bart froze.
"You're seeing spies in every corner, Ransell," said the other, then inUniversal, "Could we trrouble you for your paperesses, sirr?"
Bart, strapped down and helpless, moved his head toward the drawer,hoping his face did not betray his fear. He watched the two Lhari riffle through his papers with their odd pointed claws.
"What isss your planet?"
Bart bit his lip, hard--he had almost said, "Vega Four."
"Aldebaran Four."
The Lhari said in his own language, "We should have Margil in here. Heactually saw them."
The other replied, "But I saw the machine that disintegrated. I stillsay there was enough protoplasm residue for two bodies."
Bart fought to keep his face perfectly straight.
"Did anyone come into your cabin?" The Lhari asked in Universal.
"Only the steward. Why? Is something wrong?"
"There iss some thought that a stowaway might be on boarrd. Of courrrsewe could not allow that, anyone not prrroperly prrotected would die inthe first shift into warp-drive."
"Just the steward," Bart said again. "A Mentorian."
The Lhari said, eying him keenly, "You are ill? Or discommoded?"
Bart grasped at random for an excuse. "That--that stuff the medic mademe drink made me feel--sort of sick."
"You may send for a medical officer after acceleration," said the Lhari expressionlessly. "The summoning bell is at your left."
They turned and went out and Bart gulped. Lhari, in person, checking the
passenger decks! Normally you never saw one on board; just Mentorians.The Lhari treated humans as if they were too dumb to bother about. Well,at least for once someone was acting as if humans were worthyantagonists. _We'll show them--someday!_
But he felt very alone, and scared....
A low hum rose, somewhere in the ship, and Bart grabbed ticking as hefelt the slow surge. Then a violent sense of pressure popped his eardrums, weight crowded down on him like an elephant sitting on his chest,and there was a horrible squashed sensation dragging his limbs out ofshape. It grew and grew. Bart lay still and sweated, trying to ease hisuncomfortable position, unable to move so much as a finger. The Lhariships hit 12 gravities in the first surge of acceleration. Bart felt asif he were spreading out, under the weight, into a puddle offlesh--_melted flesh like Briscoe's.
Bart writhed and bit his lip till he could taste blood, wishing he wereyoung enough to bawl out loud.
Abruptly, it eased, and the blood started to flow again in his numbedlimbs. Bart loosened his straps, took a few deep breaths, wiped hisface--wringing wet, whether with sweat or tears he wasn't sure--and satup in his bunk. The loudspeaker announced, "Acceleration One iscompleted. Passengers on A and B Decks are invited to witness thepassing of the Satellites from the Observation Lounge in half an hour."
Bart got up and washed his face, remembering that he had no luggage withhim, not so much as a toothbrush.
At the back of his mind, packed up in a corner, was the continuing worryabout his father, the horror at Briscoe's ghastly death, the fear of the Lhari; but he slammed the lid firmly on them all. For the moment he was safe. They might be looking for Bart Steele by now, but they weren't looking for David Briscoe of Aldebaran. He might just as well relax and enjoy the trip. He went down to the Observation Lounge.
It had been darkened, and one whole wall of the room was made of clearquartzite. Bart drew a deep breath as the vast panorama of space openedout before him.
They were receding from the sun at some thousands of miles a minute. Swirling past the ship, gleaming in the reflected sunlight like iron filings moving to the motion of a magnet, were the waves upon waves of cosmic dust--tiny free electrons, ions, particles of gas; free of the heavier atmosphere, themselves invisible, they formed in their billions into bright clouds around the ship; pale, swirling veils of mist. And through their dim shine, the brilliant flares of the fixed stars burnedclear and steady, so far away that even the hurling motion of the shipcould not change their positions.
One by one he picked out the constellations. Aldebaran swung on the pendant chain of Taurus like a giant ruby. Orion strode across the sky,a swirling nebula at his belt. Vega burned, cobalt blue, in the heart ofthe Lyre.
Colors, colors! Inside the atmosphere of Earth's night, the stars had been pale white sparks against black. Here, against the misty-paleswirls of cosmic dust, they burned with color heaped on color; the bloody burning crimson of Antares, the metallic gold of Capella, thesullen pulsing of Betelgeuse. They burned, each with its own inwardflame and light, like handfuls of burning jewels flung by some giant hand upon the swirling darkness. It was a sight Bart felt he could watchforever and still be hungry to see; the never-changing, ever-changing colors of space.
* * * * *
to be continued

Creation Story, Cronus and Rhea - Birth of Zeus

According to Greek mythology, in the beginning there was nothing. This was called Chaos. From this
nothingness came light, Mother Earth (Gaia) and Sky (Uranus) were formed. From Gaia and Uranus
came six twins known as the Titans. The six twin Titans were named Oceanus and Thethys, Coeos
and Phoebe, Hyperion and Thea, Creos and Themis, Iapetos and Clymene, and finally Cronos and
Rhea.
Gaia and Uranus also gave birth to three Cyclopes, three giants, each with fifty heads and one-hundred
arms. Uranus disliked his offspring, so he forced them to return to their mother’s womb. The pain of
carrying the numerous children angered Gaia, and she made a plan for revenge against Uranus. She
called upon the Titans to help her. The youngest, Cronos (master of time), came to her aid. Cronos,
with his mother’s help, created a sickle and cut off his father’s genitals when his father came to be with
his mother.
Cronos cast the cut off genitals into the sea. According to some versions of the myth, the goddess
Aphrodite was created from the blood that dropped into the sea. In addition some of the blood dropped
on to the earth creating all types of scary offspring.
After defeating his father, Cronos married his sister Rhea. The two had six children: Hestia, Demeter,
Hera, Hades, Poseidon and Zeus. Cronos, after each birth, swallowed the first five children because of a
prophecy that climed one of his children would overthrow him. Rhea tricked Cronos with the sixth child.
Zeus, instead of handing Cronos the child, she gave him a rock in a blanket. Cronos swallowed it
believing it was the baby. Rhea then smuggled the baby Zeus to the island of Crete to be raised by
nymphs. Later Zeus would return to defeat his father in the battle between the Olympians and the
Titans.

The Olympians

The Olympians are a group of 12 gods who ruled after the overthow of the Titans. All the Olympians are related in some way. They are named after their dwelling place Mount Olympus.
Zeus Poseidon Hades Hestia Hera Ares Athena Apollo Aphrodite Hermes Artemis Hephaestus




Zeus


Zeus overthew his Father Cronus. He then drew lots with his brothers Poseidon and Hades. Zeus won the draw and became the supreme ruler of the gods. He is lord of the sky, the rain god. His weapon is a thunderbolt which he hurls at those who displease him. He is married to Hera but, is famous for his many affairs. He is also known to punish those that lie or break oaths.


Poseidon

Poseidon is the brother of Zeus. After the overthow of their Father Cronus he drew lots with Zeus and Hades, another brother, for shares of the world. His prize was to become lord of the sea. He was widely worshiped by seamen. He married Amphitrite, a granddaughter of the Titon Oceanus. At one point he desired Demeter. To put him off Demeter asked him to make the most beautiful animal that the world had ever seen. So to impress her Poseidon created the first horse. In some accounts his first attempts were unsucessful and created a varity of other animals in his quest. By the time the horse was created his passion for Demeter had cooled.
His weapon is a trident, which can shake the earth, and shatter any object. He is second only to Zeus in power amongst the gods. He has a difficult quarrelsome personality. He was greedy. He had a series of disputes with other gods when he tried to take over their cities.




Hades




Hades is the brother of Zeus. After the overthow of their Father Cronus he drew lots with Zeus and Poseidon, another brother, for shares of the world. He had the worst draw and was made lord of the underworld, ruling over the dead. He is a greedy god who is greatly concerned with increasing his subjects. Those whose calling increase the number of dead are seen favorably. The Erinnyes are welcomed guests. He is exceedingly disinclined to allow any of his subjects leave.He is also the god of wealth, due to the precious metals mined from the earth. He has a helmet that makes him invisable. He rarely leaves the underworld. He is unpitying and terrible, but not capricious. His wife is Persephone whom Hades abducted. He is the King of the dead but, death itself is another god, Thanatos.



Hestia


Hestia is Zeus sister. She is a virgin goddess. She does not have a distinct personality. She plays no part in myths. She is the Goddess of the Hearth, the symbol of the house around which a new born child is carried before it is received into the family. Each city had a public hearth sacred to Hestia, where the fire was never allowed to go out.


Hera

Hera is Zeus wife and sister. She was raised by the Titans Ocean and Tethys. She is the protector of marrage and takes special care of married women. Hera's marriage was founded in strife with Zeus and continued in strife. Zeus courted her unsuccesfully. He then turned to trickery, changing himself into disheveled cuckoo. Hera feeling sorry for the bird held it to her breast to warm it. Zues then resumed his normal form and taking advantage of the suprise he gained, raped her. She then married him to cover her shame.
Once when Zeus was being partcularly overbearing to the other gods, Hera convinced them to join in a revolt. Her part in the revolt was to drug Zeus, and in this she was successful. The gods then bound the sleeping Zeus to a couch taking care to tie many knots. This done they began to quarrel over the next step. Briareus overheard the arguements. Still full of gratitude to Zeus, Briareus slipped in and was able to quickly untie the many knots. Zeus sprang from the couch and grapped up his thuderbolt. The gods fell to their knees begging and pleading for mercy. He seized Hera and hung her from the sky with gold chains. She wept in pain all night but, none of the others dared to interfere. Her weeping kept Zeus up and the next morning he agreed to release her if she would swear never to rebel again. She had little choice but, to agree. While she never again rebeled, she often intrigued against Zeus's plans and she was often able to outwit him.



Most stories concerning Hera have to do with her jealous revenge for Zeus's infidelities. Her sacred animals are the cow and the peacock. Her favorite city is Argos.

Ares


Ares is the son of Zeus and Hera. He was disliked by both parents. He is the god of war. He is considered murderous and bloodstained but, also a coward. When caught in an act of adultery with Aphrodite her husband Hephaestus is able publically ridicule him. His bird is the vulture. His animal is the dog.



Athena


Athena is the daughter of Zeus. She sprang full grown in armour from his forehead, thus has no mother. She is fierce and brave in battle but, only wars to defined the state and home from outside enemies. She is the goddess of the city, handicrafts, and agriculture. She invented the bridle, which permitted man to tame horses, the trumpet, the flute, the pot, the rake, the plow, the yoke, the ship, and the chariot. She is the embodiment of wisdom, reason, and purity. She was Zeus's favorite child and was allowed to use his weapons including his thunderbolt. Her favorite city is Athens. Her tree is the olive. The owl is her bird. She is a virgin goddess.



Apollo


Apollo is the son of Zeus and Leto. His twin sister is Artemis. He is the god of music, playing a golden lyre. The Archer, far shooting with a silver bow. The god of healing who taught man medicine. The god of light. The god of truth, who can not speak a lie. One of Apollo's more importaint daily tasks is to harness his chariot with four horses an drive the Sun across the sky.
He is famous for his oracle at Delphi. People travled to it from all over the greek world to devine the future.
His tree was the laurel. The crow his bird. The dolphin his animal.



Aphrodite


Aphrodite is the goddess of love, desire and beauty. In addition to her natural gifts she has a magical girdle that compels anyone she wishes to desire her. There are two accounts of her birth. One says she is the daughter of Zeus and Dione.
The other goes back to when Cronus castrated Uranus and tossed his severed genitles into the sea. Aphrodite then arose from the sea foam on a giant scallop and walked to shore in Cyprus.
She is the wife of Hephaestus. The myrtle is her tree. The dove, the swann, and the sparrow her birds.

Hermes

Hermes is the son of Zeus and Maia. He is Zeus messenger. He is the fastest of the gods. He wears winged sandals, a winged hat, and carries a magic wand. He is the god of thieves and god of commerce. He is the guide for the dead to go to the underworld. He invented the lyre, the pipes, the musical scale, astronomy , weights and measures, boxing, gymnastics, and the care of olive trees.



Artemis


Artemis is the daughter of Zeus and Leto. Her twin brother is Apollo. She is the lady of the wild things. She is the huntsman of the gods. She is the protector of the young. Like Apollo she hunts with silver arrows. She became associated with the moon. She is a virgin goddess, and the goddess of chastity. She also presides over childbirth, which may seem odd for a virgin, but goes back to causing Leto no pain when she was born. She became associated with Hecate. The cypress is her tree. All wild animals are scared to her, especially the deer.



Hephaestus

Hephaestus is the son of Zeus and Hera. Sometimes it is said that Hera alone produced him and that he has no father. He is the only god to be physically ugly. He is also lame. Accounts as to how he became lame vary. Some say that Hera, upset by having an ugly child, flung him from Mount Olympus into the sea, breaking his legs. Others that he took Hera's side in an arguement with Zeus and Zeus flung him off Mount Olympus. He is the god of fire and the forge. He is the smith and armorer of the gods. He uses a volcano as his forge. He is the patron god of both smiths and weavers. He is kind and peace loving. His wife is Aphrodite. Sometimes his wife is identified as Aglaia.

Shield yourself from mobile radiation

Mobile radiation and its effects on the human body is a huge problem. But a new product is about to solve that.

The product is smaller than a five-cent piece but powerful enough to shield us from the potentially harmful electromagnetic radiation generated by mobile phones and other electronic devices.

The Qlink Mini employs patented Sympathetic Resonance Technology (SRT), which can maintain the strength of naturally occurring protective energy systems within our bodies.

The Qlink Mini, priced at 48 dollars, is programmed with naturally occurring frequencies, which resonate with our body's energy system just like a piano string would resonate with a tuning fork.

This then shields us from exposure to outside stresses and electromagnetic fields (EMFs), which can cause sickness and disease.

Apart from radiation frequency, mobiles also generate electromagnetic fields which travel much further into the human body.

John Gearon, CEO of Qlink Australia, says the Qlink Mini is the result of many years of research.
"We created the Qlink Mini after fine tuning and testing our technology which has been scientifically proven and tested for the past 20 years," the Daily Telegraph quoted Gearon as saying.

"We have seen over many years how the symptoms of mobile phone radiation can cause on the human energy system and on brainwave function through scientific testing.

"Mobile radiation and the effects on the human body is a huge problem and it affects everyone who uses a mobile phone.

Interesting Story

The Richardson family recently celebrated the 4th birthdays of their twins, but the boys are anything but identical, the Our source reports.

In 2006, mother Kerry Richardson, who is of English and Nigerian descent, gave birth to a white, or Caucasian-looking, boy named Layton a few minutes before delivering a black son named Kaydon.

The boys have a white father, but doctors told the family the chances of Richardson giving birth to a white baby, let alone simultaneously with a black child, were about a one in a million.
Richardson later welcomed another addition to the family, her baby girl, Tiyannah, whose skin is also white.

"Before the twins, I would have expected that any child of mine would have my color in them," she told the Daily Mail. "But after Layton, I wasn't sure what she was going to look like."

The boys' mother said she is worried how their appearances will affect them as they get older.
"It's never been an issue up to now, but I know that Layton notices the difference in their color," she told the Daily Mail. "I hope it's not going to be a problem when they start school, but kids can be cruel."

Their skin tones are just the beginning of the twins' differences, and their mother says their personalities are often surprising.
"Kaydon is hyper and excitable, whereas Layton can be moody and stubborn,"
"Kaydon is into arty stuff and jigsaws, and Layton is crazy about superheroes. You couldn't find two twins who are more different."

The same week of the twins' birthday, Ben and Angela Ihegboro, a black couple from London, became the parents of a white, blonde, blue-eyed daughter.

Doctors later confirmed that baby Nmachi was not albino, and her shocked parents are just happy she's healthy.

The Daily Mail reported that after joking about being the girl's father, Ben said, "Of course she is mine."

"She is beautiful, a miracle baby," mother Angela added.