She was small and slight, in a metallic blue cloak that swept out, like wings, around her thin shoulders; the hood framed a small, kittenlike face. She was a Mentorian, and she was human, and Bart's eyes rested with comfort on her face; she, on the other hand, was looking up with anxiety and uneasy distrust. That's right—I'm a Lhari, a nonhuman freak!
"I seem to have missed my way."
"What are you looking for, sir? The medical quarters are through here."
"I'm looking for the elevator down to the crew exits."
"Through here," she said, reopening the door through which he had come, and shading her large, lovely, long-lashed eyes with a slender hand. "You took the wrong turn. Are you new on board? I thought all ships were laid out exactly alike."
"I've only worked on passenger ships."
"I believe they are somewhat different," said the girl in good Lhari. "Well, that is your way, sir."
He felt as if he had been snubbed and dismissed.
"What is your name?"
She stiffened as if about to salute. "Meta of the house of Marnay Three, sir."