Montano's face was perfectly calm. "No. We won't even try." He handed Bart a small strip of pale-yellow plastic. "Keep this out of sight of the Mentorians," he said. "The Lhari won't be able to see the color, of course. But when it turns orange, take cover." "What is it?" "Radiation-exposure film. It's exactly as sensitive to radiation as you are. When it starts to turn orange, it's picking up radiation. If you're aboard the ship, get into the drive chambers--they're lead-lined--and you'll be safe. If you're out on the surface, you'll be all right inside one of the concrete bunkers. But get under cover before it turns red, because by that time every Lhari of them will be stone-cold dead." Bart let the strip of plastic drop, staring in disbelief at Montano's cold, cruel face. "Kill them? Kill a whole _shipload_ of them? That's _murder_!" "Not murder. War." "We're not at war with the Lhari! We have a treaty with them!" "The Federation has, because they don't dare do anything else," Montano said, his face taking on the fanatic's light, "but some of us dare do something, some of us aren't going to sit forever and let them strangle all humanity, hold us down, let us _die_! It's war, Bart, war for economic survival. Do you suppose the Lhari would hesitate to kill anyone if we did anything to hurt their monopoly of the stars? Or didn't they tell you about David Briscoe, how they hunted him down like an animal--" "But how do we know that was Lhari policy, and not just--some fanatic?" Bart asked suddenly. He thought of the death of the elder Briscoe, and as always he shivered with the horror of it, but for the first time it came to him: _Briscoe had provoked his own death. He had physically attacked the Lhari--threatened them, goaded them to shoot him down in self-defense!_ "I've been on shipboard with them for months. They're not wanton murderers." Raynor Two made a derisive sound. "Sounds like it might be Three talking!" Hedrick growled, "Why waste time talking? Listen, young Steele, you'll do as you're told, or else! Who gave you the right to argue?" "Quiet, both of you." Montano came and laid his arm around Bart's shoulders, persuasively. "Bart, I know how you feel. But can't you trust me? You're Rupert Steele's son, and you're here to carry on what your father left undone, aren't you? If you fail now, there may not be another chance for years--maybe not in our lifetimes." Bart dropped his head in his hands. _Kill a whole shipload of Lhari--innocent traders? Bald, funny old Rugel, stern Vorongil, Ringg--_ "I don't know what to do!" It was a cry of despair. Bart looked helplessly around at the men. Montano said, almost tenderly, "You couldn't side with the Lhari against men, could you? Could a son of Rupert Steele do that?" Bart shut his eyes, and something seemed to snap within him. His father had died for this. He might not understand Montano's reasons, but he had to believe that Montano had them.