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The Lani People

by J. F. Bone

February, 2001  [Etext #2509]


The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Lani People by J. F. Bone
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The Lani People

by J. F. Bone

CHAPTER I

The boxed ad in the opportunities section of the Kardon Journal
of Allied Medical Sciences stood out like a cut diamond in a
handful of gravel. "Wanted," it read, "Veterinarian - for
residency in active livestock operation. Single recent graduate
preferred. Quarters and service furnished. Well-equipped
hospital. Five-year contract, renewal option, starting salary
15,000 cr./annum with periodic increases. State age, school,
marital status, and enclose recent tri-di with application.
Address Box V-9, this journal."

Jac Kennon read the box a second time. There must be a catch to
it. Nothing that paid a salary that large could possibly be on
the level. Fifteen thousand a year was top pay even on Beta, and
an offer like this for a new graduate was unheard of - unless
Kardon was in the middle of an inflation. But Kardon wasn't. The
planet's financial status was A-1. He knew. He'd checked that
immediately after landing. Whatever might be wrong with Kardon,
it wasn't her currency. The rate of exchange was 1.2-1 Betan.

A five-year contract - hmm - that would the seventy-five
thousand. Figure three thousand a year for living expenses, that
would leave sixty-plenty of capital to start a clinic. The banks
couldn't turn him down if he had that much cash collateral.

Kennon chuckled wryly. He'd better get the job before he started
spending the money he didn't have. He had 231 credits plus a few
halves, tenths, and hundredths, a diploma in veterinary medicine,
some textbooks, a few instruments, and a first-class spaceman's
ticket. By watching his expenses he had enough money to live here
for a month and if nothing came of his efforts to find a job on
this planet, there was always his spaceman's ticket and another
world.

Another world! There were over six thousand planets in the
Brotherhood of Man. At two months per planet, not figuring
transit time, it would take more than a thousand Galactic
Standard years to visit them all, and a man could look forward to
scarcely more than five hundred at best. The habitat of Man had
become too large. There wasn't time to explore every possibility.

But a man could have certain standards, and look until he found a
position that fitted. The trouble was - if the standards were too
high the jobs were too scarce. Despite the chronic shortage of
veterinarians throughout the Brotherhood, there was a peculiar
reluctance on the part of established practitioners to welcome
recent graduates. Most of the ads in the professional journals
read "State salary desired," which was nothing more than economic
blackmail - a bald-faced attempt to get as much for as little as
possible. Kennon grimaced wryly. He'd be damned if he'd sell his
training for six thousand a year. Slave labor, that's what it
was. There were a dozen ads like that in the Journal. Well, he'd
give them a trial, but he'd ask eight thousand and full GEA
benefits. Eight years of school and two more as an intern were
worth at least that.

He pulled the portable voicewrite to a comfortable position in
front of the view wall and began composing another of the series
of letters that had begun months ago in time and parsecs away in
space. His voice was a fluid counterpoint to the soft hum of the
machine.

And as he dictated, his eyes took in the vista through the view
wall. Albertsville was a nice town, too young for slums, too new
for overpopulation. The white buildings were the color of winter
butter in the warm yellow sunlight as the city drowsed in the
noonday heat. It nestled snugly in the center of a bowl-shaped
valley whose surrounding forest clad hills gave mute confirmation
to the fact that Kardon was still primitive, an unsettled world
that had not yet reached the explosive stage of population growth
that presaged maturity. But that was no disadvantage. In fact,
Kennon liked it. Living could be fun on a planet like this.

It was abysmally crude compared to Beta, but the Brotherhood had
opened Kardon less than five hundred years ago, and in such a
short time one couldn't expect all the comforts of civilization.

It required a high population density to supply them, and while
Kardon was integrated its population was scarcely more than two
hundred million. It would be some time yet before this world
would achieve a Class I status. However, a Class II planet had
some advantages. What it lacked in conveniences it made up in
opportunities and elbow room.

A normal Betan would have despised this world, but Kennon wasn't
normal, although to the casual eye he was a typical
representative of the Medico-Technological Civilization, long
legged, fair haired, and short bodied with the typical Betan
squint that left his eyes mere slits behind thick lashes and
heavy brows. The difference was internal rather than external.

Possibly it was due to the fact that his father was the commander
of a Shortliner and most of his formative years had been spent in
space. To Kennon, accustomed to the timeless horror of hyper
space, all planets were good, broad open places where a man could
breathe unfiltered air and look for miles across distances
unbroken by dually bulk heads and safety shields. On a planet
there were spaciousness and freedom and after the claustrophobic
confinement of a hyper ship any world was paradise. Kennon
sighed, finished his letters, and placed them in the mail chute.
Perhaps, this time, there would be a favorable reply.

CHAPTER II

Kennon was startled by the speed with which his letters were
answered. Accustomed to the slower pace of Beta he had expected a
week would elapse before the first reply, but within twenty-four
hours nine of his twelve inquiries were returned. Five expressed
the expected "Thank you but I feel that your asking salary is a
bit high in view of your lack of experience." Three were frankly
interested and requested a personal interview. And the last was
the letter, outstanding in its quietly ostentatious folder-the
reply from Box V-9.

"Would Dr. Kennon call at 10 A.M. tomorrow at the offices of
Outworld Enterprises Incorporated and bring this letter and
suitable identifications? Kennon chuckled. Would he? There was no
question about it. The address, 200 Central Avenue, was only a
few blocks away. In fact, he could see the building from his
window, a tall functional block of durilium and plastic, soaring
above the others on the street, the sunlight gleaming off its
clean square lines. He eyed it curiously, wondering what he would
find inside.

* * *

The receptionist took his I.D. and the letter, scanned them
briefly, and slipped them into one of the message tubes beside
her desk. "It will only be a moment, Doctor," she said
impersonally. "Would you care to sit down? '"

Thank you," he said. The minute, reflected, could easily be an
hour. But she was right. It was only a minute until the message
tube clicked and popped a capsule onto the girl's desk. She
opened it, and removed Kennon's I.D. and a small yellow plastic
rectangle. Her eyes widened at the sight of the plastic card.

"Here you are, Doctor. Take shaft number one. Slip the card into
the scanner slot and you'll be taken to the correct floor. The
offices you want will be at the end of the corridor to the left.
You'll find any other data you may need on the card in case you
get lost." She looked at him with a curious mixture of surprise
and respect as she handed him the contents of the message tube.

Kennon murmured an acknowledgment, took the card and his I.D.,
and entered the grav-shaft. There was the usual moment of
heaviness as the shaft whisked him upward and deposited him in
front of a thickly carpeted corridor.

Executive level, Kennon thought as he followed the receptionist's
directions. No wonder she had looked respectful. But what was he
doing here? The employment of a veterinarian wasn't important
enough to demand the attention of a senior executive. The
personnel section could handle the details of his application as
well as not. He shrugged. Perhaps veterinarians were more
important on Kardon. He didn't know a thing about this world's
customs.

He opened the unmarked door at the end of the corridor, entered a
small reception room, smiled uncertainly at the woman behind the
desk, and received an answering smile in return.

Come right in, Dr. Kennon. Mr. Alexander is waiting for you.

Alexander! The entrepreneur himself! Why? Numb with surprise
Kennon watched the woman open the intercom on her desk.

"Sir, Dr. Kennon is here," she said.

"Bring him in," a smooth voice replied from the speaker.
Alexander X. M. Alexander, President of Outsold Enterprises - a
lean, dark, wolfish man in his early sixties - eyed Kennon with a
flat predatory intentness that was oddly disquieting. His stare
combined the analytical inspection of the pathologist, the
probing curiosity of the psychiatrist, and the weighing appraisal
of the butcher. Kennon's thoughts about Alexander's youth
vanished that instant. Those eyes belonged to a leader on the
battlefield of galactic business.

Kennon felt the conditioned respect for authority surge through
him in a smothering wave. Grimly he fought it down, knowing it
was a sign of weakness that would do him no good in the interview
which lay ahead.

"So you're Kennon," Alexander said. His lingua franca was clean
and accentless. "I expected someone older."

"Frankly, sir, so did I," Kennon replied.

Alexander smiled, an oddly pleasant smile that transformed the
hard straight lines in his face into friendly curves. "Business,
Dr. Kennon, is not the sole property of age."

"Nor is a veterinary degree," Kennon replied.

"True. But one thinks of a Betan as someone ancient and sedate."

"Ours is an old planet -- but we still have new generations."

"A fact most of us outsiders find hard to believe," Alexander
said. "I picture your world as an ironclad society crystallized
by age and custom into something rigid and in flexible."

"You would be wrong to do so," Kennon said. "Even though we are
cultural introverts there is plenty of dynamism within our
society."

"How is it that you happen to be out here on the edge of
civilization?"

"I never said I was like my society," Kennon grinned. "Actually I
suppose I'm one of the proverbial bad apples."

"There's more to it than that," Alexander said. "Your early years
probably influenced you."

Kennon looked sharply at the entrepreneur. How much did the man
really know about him? "I suppose so," he said indifferently."

Alexander looked pleased. "But even with your childhood
experiences there must be an atavistic streak in you - a
throwback to your adventurous Earth forebears who settled your
world?"

Kennon shrugged. "Perhaps you're right. I really don't know.
Actually, I've never thought about it. It merely seemed to me
that an undeveloped world offered more opportunity."

"It does," Alexander said. "But it also offers more work. If
you're figuring that you can get along on the minimum physical
effort required on the Central Worlds, you have a shock coming."

"I'm not that innocent," Kennon said. "But I am not so stupid
that I can't apply modifications of Betan techniques to worlds as
new as this."

Alexander chuckled. "I like you," he said. suddenly. "Here read
this and see if you'd care to work for me." He picked a contract
form from one of the piles of paper on his desk and handed it to
Kennon. "This is one of our standard work contracts. Take it back
to your hotel and check it over. I'll expect to see you at this
time tomorrow."

"Why waste time?" Kennon said. "The rapid-reading technique
originated on Beta. I can tell you in fifteen minutes."

"Hmm. Certainly. Read it here if you wish. I like to get things
settled - the sooner the better. Sit down, young man and read.
You can rouse me when you're finished." He turned his attention
to the papers on his desk and within seconds was completely
oblivious of Kennon, his face set in the rapt trancelike
expression of a trained rapid reader.

Kennon watched for a moment as sheets of paper passed through
Alexander's hands to be added to the pile at the opposite end of
the desk. The man would do better, he thought, if he would have
his staff transcribe the papers to microfilm that could be read
through an interval-timed scanner. He might suggest that later.
As for now, he shrugged and seated himself in the chair beside
the desk. The quiet was broken only by the rustle of paper as the
two rapt-faced men turned page after page with mechanical
regularity.

Finally Kennon turned the last page, paused, blinked, and
performed the necessary mental gymnastics to orient his time
sense. Alexander, he noticed, was still engrossed, sunk in his
autohypnotic trance. Kennon waited until he had finished the
legal folder which he was reading and then gently intruded upon
Alexander's concentration.

Alexander looked up blankly and then went through the same mental
gyrations Kennon had performed a few minutes before. His eyes
focused and became hard and alert.

"Well?" he asked. "What do you think of it?"

"I think it's the damnedest, trickiest, most unilateral piece of
legalistics I've ever seen," Kennon said bluntly. "If that's the
best you can offer, I wouldn't touch the job with a pair of
forceps."

Alexander smiled. "I see you read the fine print," he said. There
was quiet amusement in his voice. "So you don't like the
contract?"

"No sensible man would. I'm damned if I'll sign commitment papers
just to get a job. No wonder you're having trouble getting
professional help. If your contracts are all like that it's' a
wonder anyone works for you."

"We have no complaints from our employees," Alexander said
stiffly.

"How could you? If they signed that contract you'd have a perfect
right to muzzle them."

"There are other applicants for this post," Alexander said.

"Then get one of them. I wouldn't be interested."

"A spaceman's ticket is a good thing to have," Alexander said
idly. "It's a useful ace in the hole. Besides, you have had three
other job offers - all of which are good even though they don't
pay fifteen Ems a year."

Kennon did a quick double take. Alexander's investigative staff
was better than good. It was uncanny.

"But seriously, Dr. Kennon, I am pleased that you do not like
that contract. Frankly, I wouldn't consider employing you if you
did."

"Sir?"

"That contract is a screen. It weeds out the careless, the fools,
and the unfit in one operation. A man who would sign a thing like
that has no place in my organization." Alexander chuckled at
Kennon's blank expression. "I see you have had no experience with
screening contracts."

"I haven't," Kennon admitted. "On Beta the tests are formal. The
Medico-Psych Division supervises them."

"Different worlds, different methods," Alexander observed. "But
they're all directed toward the same goal. Here we aren't so
civilized. We depend more on personal judgment." He took another
contract from one of the drawers of his desk. "Take a look at
this. I think you'll be more satisfied."

"If you don't mind, I'll read it now," Kennon said.

Alexander nodded.

* * *

"It's fair enough," Kennon said, "except for Article Twelve."

"The personal privilege section?

"Yes."

"Well, that's the contract. You can take it or leave it."

"I'll leave it," Kennon said. "Thank you for your time." He rose
to his feet, smiled at Alexander, and turned to the door. "Don't
bother to call your receptionist," he said. "I can find my way
out."

"Just a minute, Doctor," Alexander said. He was standing behind
the desk, holding out his hand.

"Another test?" Kennon inquired.

Alexander nodded. "The critical one," he said. "Do you want the
job?"

"Of course."

"Without knowing more about it?"

"The contract is adequate. It defines my duties."

"And you think you can handle them?"

"I know I can."

"I notice," Alexander observed, "that you didn't object to other
provisions."

"No, sir. They're pretty rigid, but for the salary you are paying
I figure you should have some rights. Certainly you have the
right to protect your interests. But that Article Twelve is a
direct violation of everything a human being should hold sacred
besides being a violation of the Peeper Laws. I'd never sign a
contract that didn't carry a full Peeper rider."

"That's quite a bit."

"That's the minimum," Kennon corrected. "Naturally, I won't
object to mnemonic erasure of matters pertaining to your business
once my contract's completed and I leave your employment. But
until then there will be no conditioning, no erasures, no taps,
no snoopers, and no checkups other than the regular periodic
psychans. I'll consult with you on vacation time and will arrange
it to suit your convenience. I'll even agree to emergency recall,
but that's the limit." Kennon's voice was flat.

"You realize I'm agreeing to give you a great deal of personal
liberty," Alexander said. "How can I protect myself?"

"I'll sign a contingency rider," Kennon said, "if you will
specify precisely what security matters I am not to reveal."

"I accept," Alexander said. "Consider yourself hired." He touched
a button on his desk. "Prepare a standard 2-A contract for Dr.
Jac Kennon's signature. And attach two riders, a full P-P-yes, no
exceptions - and a security-leak contingency, Form 287-C. Yes -
that's right - that one. And strike out all provisions of Article
Twelve which conflict with the Peeper Laws. Yes. Now - and finish
it as soon as you can." He touched another button. "Well, that's
that," he said. "I hope you'll enjoy being a member of our
group."

"I think I shall," Kennon said. "You know, sir, I would have
waived part of that last demand if you had cared to argue."

"I know it," Alexander said. "But what concessions I could have
wrung from you would be relatively unimportant beside the fact
that you would be unhappy about them later. What little I could
have won here, I'd lose elsewhere. And since I want you, I'd
prefer to have you satisfied."

"I see," Kennon said. Actually he didn't see at all. He looked
curiously at the entrepreneur. Alexander couldn't be as easy as
he seemed. Objectivity and dispassionate weighing and balancing
were nice traits and very helpful ones, but in the bear pit of
galactic business they wouldn't keep their owner alive for five
minutes. The interworld trade sharks would have skinned him long
ago and divided the stripped carcass of his company between them.

But Outworld was a "respected" company. The exchange reports said
so - which made Alexander a different breed of cat entirely.
Still, his surface was perfect - polished and impenetrable as a
duralloy turret on one of the latest Brotherhood battleships.
Kennon regretted he wasn't a sensitive. It would be nice to know
what Alexander really was.

"Tell me, sir," Kennon asked. "What are the real reasons that
make you think I'm the man you want?"

"And you're the young man who's so insistent on a personal
privacy rider," Alexander chuckled. "However, there's no harm
telling you. There are several reasons.

"You're from a culture whose name is a byword for moral
integrity. That makes you a good risk so far as your ethics are
concerned. In addition you're the product of one of the finest
educational systems in the galaxy-and you have proven your
intelligence to my satisfaction. You also showed me that you
weren't a spineless 'yes man.' And finally, you have a spirit of
adventure. Not one in a million of your people would do what you
have done. What more could an entrepreneur ask of a prospective
employee?"

Kennon sighed and gave up. Alexander wasn't going to reveal a
thing.

"All I hope," Alexander continued affably, "is that you'll find
Outworld Enterprises as attractive as did your predecessor Dr.
Williamson. He was with us until he died last month - better than
a hundred years."

"Died rather young, didn't he?"

"Not exactly, he was nearly four hundred when he joined us. My
grandfather was essentially conservative. He liked older men, and
Old Doc was one of his choices - a good one, too. He was worth
every credit we paid him."

"I'll try to do as well," Kennon said, "but I'd like to warn you
that I have no intention of staying as long as he did. I want to
build a clinic and I figure sixty thousand is about enough to get
started."

"When will you veterinarians ever learn to be organization men?"
Alexander asked. "You're as independent as tomcats."

Kennon grinned. "It's a breed characteristic, I guess."

Alexander shrugged. "Perhaps you'll change your mind after you've
worked for us."

"Possibly, but I doubt it."

"Tell me that five years from now," Alexander said - "Ah - here
are the contracts." He smiled at the trim secretary who entered
the room carrying a stack of papers.

"The riders are as you asked, sir," the girl said.

"Good. Now, Doctor, if you please."

"You don't mind if I check them?" Kennon asked.

"Not at all. And when you're through, just leave them on the desk
- except for your copy, of course." Alexander scrawled his
signature on the bottom of each contract. "Don't disturb me. I'll
be in contact with you. Leave your whereabouts with your hotel."
He turned to the papers in front of him, and then looked up for
the last time. "Just one more thing," he said. "You impress me as
a cautious man. It would be just as well if you carried your
caution with you when you leave this room."

Kennon nodded, and Alexander turned back to his work.

CHAPTER III

"I'd never have guessed yesterday that I'd be here today," Kennon
said as he looked down at the yellow waters of the Xantline Sea
flashing to the rear of the airboat at a steady thousand
kilometers per hour as they sped westward in the middle traffic
level. The water, some ten thousand meters below, had been
completely empty for hours as the craft hurtled through the
equatorial air.

"We have to move fast to stay ahead of our ulcers," Alexander
said with a wry smile. "Besides, I wanted to get away from the
Albertsville offices for awhile."

"Three hours' notice," Kennon said. "That's almost too fast."

"You had nothing to keep you in the city, and neither did I - at
least nothing important. There are plenty of females where we are
going and I need you on Flora - not in Albertsville. Besides I
can get you there faster than if you waited for a company
transport."

"Judging from those empty sea lanes below, Flora must be an
out-of-the-way place," Kennon said.

"It is. It's out of the trade lanes. Most of the commercial
traffic is in the southern hemisphere. The northern hemisphere is
practically all water. Except for Flora and the Otpens there
isn't a land area for nearly three thousand kilometers in any
direction, and since the company owns Flora and the surrounding
island groups there's no reason for shipping to come there. We
have our own supply vessels, a Discovery Charter, and a desire
for privacy. - Ah! It won't be long now. There's the Otpens!"
Alexander pointed at a smudge on the horizon that quickly
resolved into an irregular chain of tiny islets that slipped
below them. Kennon got a glimpse of gray concrete on one of the
larger islands, a smudge of green trees, and white beaches
against which the yellow waters dashed in smothers of foam.

"Rugged-looking place," be murmured.

"Most of them are deserted. Two support search and warning
stations and automatic interceptors to protect our property.
Look! - there's Flora." Alexander gestured at the land mass that
appeared below.

Flora was a great green oval two hundred kilometers long and
about a hundred wide.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Alexander said as they sped over the low
range of hills and the single gaunt volcano filling the eastward
end of the island and swept over a broad green valley dotted with
fields and orchards interspersed at intervals by red-roofed
structures whose purpose was obvious.

"Our farms," Alexander said redundantly. The airboat crossed a
fair-sized river. "That's the Styx," Alexander said. "Grandfather
named it. He was a classicist in his way -  spent a lot of his
time reading books most people never heard of. Things like the
Iliad and Gone with the Wind. The mountains he called the
Apennines, and that volcano's Mount Olympus. The marshland to the
north is called the Pontine Marshes - our main road is the Camino
Real." Alexander grinned. "There's a lot of Earth on Flora.
You'll find it in every name. Grandfather was an Earthman and he
used to get nostalgic for the homeworld. Well - there's
Alexandria coming up. We've just about reached the end of the
line."

Kennon stared down at the huge gray-green citadel resting on a
small hill in the center of an open plain. It was a Class II
Fortalice built on the efficient star-shaped plan of half a
millennium ago - an ugly spiky pile of durilium, squat and
massive with defensive shields and weapons which could still
withstand hours of assault by the most modern forces.

"Why did he build a thing like that?" Kennon asked.

"Alexandria? - well, we had trouble with the natives when we
first came, and Grandfather had a synthesizer and tapes for a
Fortalice in his ship. So he built it. It serves the dual purpose
of base and house. It's mostly house now, but it's still capable
of being defended."

"And those outbuildings?"

"They're part of your job."

The airboat braked sharply and settled with a smooth, sickeningly
swift rush that left Kennon gasping - feeling that his stomach
was still floating above him in the middle level. He never had
become accustomed to an arbutus landing characteristics.  Spacers
were slower and steadier. The ship landed gently on a pitted
concrete slab near the massive radiation shields of the
barricaded entranceway to the fortress. Projectors in polished
dually turrets swivelled to point their ugly noses at them. It
gave Kennon a queasy feeling. He never liked to trust his future
to automatic machinery. If the analyzers failed to decode the
ship's I.D. properly, Kennon, Alexander, the ship, and a fair
slice of surrounding territory would become an incandescent mass
of dissociated atoms.

"Grandfather was a good builder," Alexander, said proudly. "Those
projectors have been mounted nearly four hundred years and
they're still as good as the day they were installed."

"I can see that," Kennon said uncomfortably. "You ought to
dismantle them. They're enough to give a man the weebies."

Alexander chuckled. "Oh - they're safe. The firing mechanism's
safetied. But we keep them in operating condition. You never can
tell when they'll come in handy."

"I knew Kardon was primitive, but I didn't think it was that bad.
What's the trouble?"

"None - right now," Alexander said obliquely, "and since we've
shown we can handle ourselves there probably won't be any more."

"You must raise some pretty valuable stock if the competition
tried to rustle them in the face of that armament."

"We do." Alexander said. "Now if you'll follow me" - the
entrepreneur opened the cabin door letting in a blast of heat and
a flood of yellow sunlight.

"Great Arthur Fleming!" Kennon exploded. "This place is a
furnace!"

"It's hot out here on the strip," Alexander admitted, "but its
cool enough inside. Besides, you'll get used to this quickly
enough - and the nights are wonderful. The evening rains cool
things off. Well - come along." He began walking toward the
arched entrance to the great building some hundred meters away.
Kennon followed looking around curiously. So this was to be his
home for the next five years? It didn't look particularly
inviting. There was a forbidding air about the place that was in
stark contrast to its pleasant surroundings.

They were only a few meters from the archway when a stir of
movement came from its shadow - the first life Kennon had seen
since they descended from the ship. In this furnace heat even the
air was quiet. Two women came out of the darkness, moving with
quiet graceful steps across the blistering hot concrete. They
were naked except for a loincloth, halter, and sandals and so
nearly identical in form and feature that Kennon took them to be
twins. Their skins were burned a deep brown that glistened in the
yellow sun light.

Kennon shrugged. It was none of his business how his employer ran
his household or what his servants wore or didn't wear. Santos
was a planet of nudists, and certainly this hot sun was fully as
brilliant as the one which warmed that tropical planet In fact,
he could see some virtue in wearing as little as possible.
Already he was perspiring.

The two women walked past them toward the airboat. Kennon turned
to look at them and noticed with surprise that they weren't
human. The long tails curled below their spinal bases were
adequate denials of human ancestry.

"Humanoids!" he gasped. "For a moment I thought-"

"Gave you a start-eh?" Alexander chuckled. "It always does when a
stranger sees a Lani for the first time. Well - now you've seen
some of the livestock what do you think of them?"

"I think you should have hired a medic."

Alexander shook his head. "No - it wouldn't be reason able or
legal. You're the man for the job."

"But I've no experience with humanoid types. We didn't cover that
phase in our studies - and from their appearance they'd qualify
as humans anywhere if it weren't for those tails!"

"They're far more similar than you think," Alexander said. "It
just goes to show what parallel evolution can do. But there are
differences."

"I never knew that there was indigenous humanoid life on Kardon,"
Kennon continued. "The manual says nothing about it."

"Naturally. They're indigenous only to this area."




"That's impossible. Species as highly organized as that simply
don't originate on isolated islands."

"This was a subcontinent once," Alexander said. "Most of it has
been inundated. Less than a quarter of a million years ago there
was over a hundred times the land area in this region than exists
today. Then the ocean rose. Now all that's left is the mid
continent plateau and a few mountain tops. You noted, I suppose,
that this is mature topography except for that range of hills to
the east. The whole land area at the time of flooding was
virtually a peneplain. A rise of a few hundred feet in the ocean
level was all that was needed to drown most of the land."

"I see. Yes, it's possible that life could have developed here
under those conditions. A peneplain topography argues permanence
for hundreds of millions of years."

"You have studied geology?" Alexander asked curiously. "Only as
part of my cultural base," Kennon said. "Merely a casual
acquaintance."

"We think the Lani were survivors of that catastrophe - and with
their primitive culture they were unable to reach the other land
masses," Alexander shrugged. "At any rate they never established
themselves anywhere else."

"How did you happen to come here?"

"I was born here," Alexander said. "My grandfather discovered
this world better than four hundred years ago. He picked this
area because it all could be comfortably included in Discovery
Rights. It wasn't until years afterward that he realized the
ecological peculiarities of this region."

"He certainly capitalized on them."

"There was plenty of opportunity. The plants and animals here are
different from others in this world. Like Australia in reverse."

Kennon looked blank, and Alexander chuckled. "Australia was a
subcontinent on Earth," he explained. "Its ecology, however, was
exceedingly primitive when compared with the rest of the planet.
Flora's on the contrary, was - and is - exceedingly advanced when
compared with other native life forms on Kardon."

"Your grandfather stumbled on a real bonanza," Kennon said.

"For which I'm grateful," Alexander grinned. "It's made me the
biggest operator in this sector of the galaxy. For practical
purposes I own an independent nation. There's about a thousand
humans here, and nearly six thousand Lani. We're increasing the
Lani now, since we found they have commercial possibilities. Up
to thirty years ago we merely used them for labor."

Kennon didn't speculate on what Alexander meant. He knew. For
practical purposes, his employer was a slave trader - or would
have been if the natives were human. As it was, the analogy was
so close that it wasn't funny.

They entered the fortress, passed through a decontamination
chamber that would have done credit to an exploration ship, and
emerged dressed in tunics and sandals that were far more
appropriate and comfortable in this tropical climate.

"That's one of Old Doc's ideas," Alexander said, gesturing at the
door from which they had emerged. "He was a hound for sanitation
and he infected us with the habit." He turned and led the way
down an arched corridor that opened into a huge circular room
studded with iris doors.

Kennon sucked his breath in with a low gasp of amazement. The
room was a gem of exquisite beauty. The parquet floor was inlaid
with rare hardwoods from a hundred different worlds. Parthian
marble veneer covered with lacy Van tapestries from Santos formed
the walls. Delicate ceramics, sculpture, and bronzes reflected
the art of a score of different civilizations. A circular pool,
festooned with lacelike Halsite ferns, stood in the center of the
room, surrounding a polished black granite pedestal on which
stood an exquisite bronze of four Lani females industriously and
eternally pouring golden water from vases held in their shapely
hands. "Beautiful," Kennon said softly.

"We like it," Alexander said.

"We?"

"Oh yes - I forgot to tell you about the Family," Alexander said
grimly. "I run Outworld, and own fifty per cent of it. The Family
owns the other fifty. There are eight of them - the finest
collection of parasites in the entire galaxy. At the moment they
can't block me since I also control my cousin Douglas's shares.
But when Douglas comes of age they will be troublesome. Therefore
I defer to them. I don't want to build a united opposition.
Usually I can get one or more of them to vote with me on critical
deals, but I always have to pay for their support." Alexander's
voice was bitter as he touched the dilate button on the iris door
beside him. "You'll have to meet them tonight. There's five of
them here now."

"That isn't in the contract," Kennon said. He was appalled at
Alexander. Civilized people didn't speak of others that way, even
to intimates.

"It can't be helped. You must meet them. It's part of the job."
Alexander's voice was grim. "Mother, Cousin Anne, Douglas, and
Eloise like to play lord of the manor. Cousin Harold doesn't care
- for which you should be grateful."

The door dilated, and Alexander ushered Kennon into the room. The
Lani sitting on the couch opposite the door leaped to her feet,
her mouth opening in an 0 of surprise. Her soft snow-white hair,
creamy skin, and bright china blue eyes were a startling contrast
to her black loincloth and halter. Kennon stared appreciatively.

Her effect on Alexander, however, was entirely different. His
face darkened. "You!" he snapped. "What are you doing here?"

"Serving, sir," the Lani said.

"On whose authority?"

"Man Douglas, sir."

Alexander groaned. "You see," he said, turning to Kennon. "We
need someone here with a little sense. Like I was telling you,
the Family'd" - he stopped abruptly and turned back to the Lani.
"Your name and pedigree," he demanded.

"Silver Dawn, sir - out of White Magic - platinum experimental
type - strain four."

"I thought so. How long have you been inhouse?"

"Almost a month, sir."

"You're terminated. Report to Goldie and tell her that Man
Alexander wants you sent back to your group."

The Lani's eyes widened. "Man Alexander! - You?"

Alexander nodded.

"Gosh!" she breathed. "The big boss!"

"Get moving," Alexander snapped, "and tell Goldie to report to me
in my quarters."

"Yes, sir, right away, sir!" The Lath ran, disappearing through
the door they had entered with a flash of shapely white limbs.

"That Douglas!" Alexander growled. "Leave that young fool alone
here for six months and he'd disrupt the entire operation. The
nerve of that young pup - requisitioning an experimental type for
household labor. Just what does he think he's doing?"

The question obviously didn't demand a reply, so Kennon kept
discreetly silent as Alexander crossed the room to the two doors
flanking the couch on which the Lani had sat. He opened the
left-hand one revealing a modern grav-shaft that carried them
swiftly to the uppermost level. They walked down a short corridor
and stopped before another door. It opened into a suite furnished
with stark functional simplicity. It fitted the entrepreneur's
outward personality so exactly that Kennon had no doubt that this
was Alexander's quarters.

"Sit down, Kennon. Relax while you can," Alexander said as he
dropped into a chair and crossed his sandaled feet.

"I'm sure you have many questions, but they can wait."

You might as well get some rest. You'll have little enough later.
The Family will probably put you through the meat grinder, but
remember that they don't control this business. You're my man."

Kennon had hardly seated himself in another chair when the door
opened and a plump pink-skinned Lani entered. She was
considerably older than the silver-haired one he had seen
earlier, and her round face was smiling.

"Ah, Goldie," Alexander said. "I understand Man Douglas has been
giving you quite a time."

"It's high time you came back, sir," she said. "Since Old Doc
died, Man Douglas has been impossible. He's been culling the
staff and replacing them with empty-headed fillies whose only
claim to usefulness is that they can fill out a halter. Pretty
soon this place will be a pigsty."

"I'll take care of that," Alexander promised. "Now I'd like you
to meet Old Doc's replacement. This is Dr. Kennon, our new
veterinarian."

"Pleased, I'm sure," Goldie said. "You look like a nice man."

"He is," Alexander said, "but he's just as hard as Old Doc - and
he'll have the same powers. Goldie's the head housekeeper,"
Alexander added. "She's an expert, and you'd do well to take her
advice on assignments."

Kennon nodded.

"Have a maid bring us a light meal and something to drink,"
Alexander said. "Have a couple of porters take Dr. Kennon's
things to Old Doc's house. Find Man Douglas and tell him I want
to see him at once. Tell the Family that I've arrived and will
see them in the Main Lounge at eight tonight. Tell Blalok I'll be
seeing him at nine. That's all."

"Yes, sir," Goldie said and left the room, her tail curling
buoyantly.

"A good Lani," Alexander commented. "One of the best. Loyal,
trustworthy, intelligent. She's been running Alexandria for the
past ten years, and should be good for at least ten more."

"Ten? - how old is she?"

"Thirty."

"Thirty - years?"

Alexander nodded.

"Good Lord Lister! I'd have guessed her at least three hundred!"

"Wrong life scale. Lani only live about one tenth as long as we
do. They're mature at twelve and dead at fifty."

Alexander sighed. "That's another difference. Even without
agerone we'd live to be a hundred."

"Have you tried gerontological injections?"

"Once. They produced death in about two days. Killed five Lani
with them." Alexander's face darkened at an unpleasant memory.
"So we don't try any more," he said. "There are too many
differences." He stretched. "I'd tell you more about them but
it'll be better to hear it from Evald Blalok. He's our
superintendent. Steve Jordan can tell you a lot, too. He runs the
Lani Division. But right now let's wait for Cousin Douglas. The
pup will take his time about coming - but he'll do it in the end.
He's afraid not to."

"I'd rather not," Kennon said. "It's poor manners to be injected
into a family affair - especially when I'm just one of the
employees."

"You're not just one of the employees. You are the Station
Veterinarian, and as such you hold an authority second only to
Blalok and myself. You and Blalok are my hands, ears, and eyes on
Flora. You are responsible to me - and to me alone. While I defer
at times to the desires of the Family, I do not have to. I run
Outworld Enterprises and all the extensions of that organization.
I possess control  - and the Family knows it. My men are
respected and furthermore they know everything that goes on." He
smiled icily. "In a way it's quite a healthy situation. It keeps
my relatives under control. Somehow they dislike being
disciplined before outsiders. Now think no more about it."
Alexander stood up and walked over to one of the windows opening
onto the broad roof gardens, and stood looking at the
sun-drenched greenery.

"Odd, isn't it," Alexander said, "how beautiful nature is and how
simple things are in a state of nature. It's only when man
interjects himself onto a scene that things get complicated. Take
Flora for instance. Before Grandfather came here, it must have
been a pleasant place with the simple natives happy in their
paradise. But that's all changed now. We have taken over - and
they, like other lesser creatures on other worlds, have been bent
to our will and uses. I could pity them, but being human I cannot
afford that luxury."

Kennon understood. He, too, had felt that sensation, that odd
tightening of the throat when he first saw a Varl on Santos. The
Varl had been the dominant life form there until men had come.
Now they were just another animal added to humanity's growing
list of pets and livestock. The little Varl with their
soft-furred bodies and clever six-fingered hands made excellent
pets and precision workmen. The products of those clever hands,
the tiny instruments, the delicate microminiaturized control
circuits, the incredibly fine lacework and tapestries, formed the
bulk of Santos' interstellar trade.

He had owned a Varl once and had delighted in its almost human
intelligence. But the Varl weren't human and there lay their
tragedy. Two thousand years of human domination had left them
completely dependent on their conquerors. They were merely
intelligent animals - and that was all they would ever be until
the human race changed its cultural pattern or was overthrown.
The one alternative was as unlikely as the other. Humanity had
met some fierce competitors, but none with its explosive
acquisitive nature, and none with its drive to conquer, colonize,
and rule. And probably it never would.

The little Varl were one race among hundreds that had fallen
before the fierceness and the greed of men. But unlike most
others, the Varl were not combative. Therefore they had survived.

Yet had it been necessary to reduce them to slavery? They would
never be a threat. Not only were they essentially gentle and
noncombative, but their delicate bodies could not stand the
strains of spaceflight. They were trapped on their world. Why
should they be forced into so subordinate a role? - Why was
humanity so jealous of its dominance that no other species could
exist except by sufferance? Why after five thousand years of
exploration, invasion, and colonization did the human race still
consider the galaxy as its oyster, and themselves uniquely
qualified to hold the knife? He hadn't thought this way since he
had given the Varl to his girl friend of the moment, and had
blasted off for Beta. Now the questions returned to haunt him. As
a Betan, the haunting was even more acute, since Beta had a
related problem that was already troublesome and would become
more acute as the years passed.

He shrugged and laid the thought aside as a slim, dark-haired
Lani entered pushing a service cart ahead of her. The two men ate
silently, each busy with his own thoughts. And behind the view
wall of Alexander's apartment Kardon's brilliant yellow sun sank
slowly toward the horizon, filling the sky with flaming colors of
red and gold, rimmed by the blues and purples of approaching
night. The sunset was gaudy and blatant, Kennon thought with mild
distaste, unlike the restful day-end displays of his homeworld.

CHAPTER IV

Douglas Alexander was a puffy-faced youngster with small
intolerant eyes set in folds of fat above a button nose and a
loose-lipped sensual mouth. There was an odd expression of
defiance overlaid with fear on his pudgy features. Looking at
him, Kennon was reminded of a frightened dog, ready either to
bite or cower.

But it wasn't Douglas who held his eye. It was the two Lani who
followed him into the room. Every line of their bodies was
perfection that spoke volumes about generations of breeding for
physical elegance. They moved with a co-ordinated grace that made
Douglas look even more clumsy by contrast. And they were
identical, twin cream-and-gold works of art. They were completely
nude - and Kennon for the first time in his life fully
appreciated the beauty of an unclad female. To cover them would
be sacrilege, and ornaments would only detract from their
exquisite perfection.

Kennon knew that he was staring like an idiot. Alexander's amused
smile told him that much. With an effort he composed his startled
features.

The pair looked at him with soft violet eyes - and it was as
though some psychic bathhouse attendant had poured ice water down
his spine. For he had seen that look before, that liquid
introspective look in the velvet eyes of cattle. He shivered. For
a moment he had been thinking of them as human. And somehow the
lack of that indefinable some thing called humanity robbed them
of much of their glamour. They were still beautiful, but their
beauty had become impersonal.


"Don't take these as representative of the Lani," Alexander said
suddenly. "They're a special case, a very special case." He
glared at his cousin. "Damn your impudence," he said without
beat. "I sent for you - not your toys. Send them away."

Douglas sulkily thrust out his lower lip. "You can't talk to me
like that, Cousin Alex," he began. "I'm just a"

"You head me, Douglas. Out!" Alexander's voice didn't rise but it
cut like a whip.

"Oh, very well," Douglas said. "I can't fight you - yet." He
turned to the humanoids. "You heard the Boss-man. Go home."

The two nodded in unison and departed quickly. Somehow Kennon got
the impression that they were happy to leave.

"Just wait," Douglas said. "You can't boss me forever. Just wait.
I'll reach my majority in five years. I can vote my shares then -
and then I'll fix you. You won't be so high and mighty then, Mr.
Big. I'll throw in with the rest of the Family. They don't like
you too much."

"Don't hold your breath waiting for the Family to help you,"
Alexander said. "They wouldn't have anyone else but me handle the
finances. They love money too much. And until you get your
inheritance remember one thing - I'm master here."

"I know it," Douglas said, and then curiously - "Who's the
oddball?" He gestured at Kennon with a pudgy thumb.

"Our new veterinarian, Dr. Kennon."

"Oh - great! Now you tell me!"

"There's nothing like making a good first impression," Alexander
said with ironic emphasis. "I hope he cuts you off from the Lani.
He'll have the authority to do it, since he's taking Old Doc's
place."

"He can't. I'm an owner. I own-"

"You own nothing. You're a minor. And under the terms of
Grandfather's will, you'll own nothing except an allowance until
you reach legal age. And that brings me to the reason I brought
you here. Just when did you gain the right to reorganize the
household staff? Just when did you get  the power to interfere
with the experimental program?"

Douglas flushed dull red and bit his lip. "Do we have to go into
this in front of strangers?"

"Kennon's my agent," Alexander said coldly, "and he might as well
learn about you and the others from the start."

"Well - what do you want him to do - watch me crawl?" Douglas
asked bitterly. "You'll make me do it. You always do. Do you want
me to beg, to say I was wrong, to promise I won't do it again?"

"You've done that already," Alexander said. "Several times. You
need a lesson. I won't have you meddling with valuable animals."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"Put you where you can do no more damage. As of tomorrow you'll
go to Otpen One."

Douglas paled. His lips quivered, and his eyes flicked uneasily
as he watched Alexander's granite face. "You don't mean that," he
said finally. "You're joking."

"I never joke about business."

"But you can't do that! I'll tell the Family. They won't let
you."

"I already have their consent," Alexander said. "I obtained it
after your last escapade. You'll be happy out there. You can play
tin god all you like. Master of life and death on a two-acre
island. No one will mind. You can also go to work. No one will
mind that, either. And Mullins won't mind as long as you leave
the troops alone. Now get out of here and get packed. You're
leaving tomorrow morning."

"But cousin Alex---"

"Move! I'm tired of the sight of you!" Alexander said.

Douglas turned and shambled out of the room. His ego was
thoroughly deflated and he seemed more frightened than before.
Obviously the Otpens weren't the pleasantest place in this world.

"They're a military post," Alexander said. "And Commander Mullins
doesn't like Douglas. Can't say that I blame him. Douglas is a
thoroughly unpleasant specimen, and incidentally quite typical of
the rest of the Family." Alexander sighed and spread his hands in
a gesture that combined disgust and resignation. "Sometimes I
wonder why I have been cursed with my relatives."

Kennon nodded. The implications behind the empty eyes of
Douglas's Lani sickened him. There were several ways to produce
that expression, all of them unpleasant. Hypnoconditioning, the
Quiet Treatment, brainburning, transorbital leukotomy, lobectomy
- -all of the products of that diseased period of humanity's
thinking when men tampered with the brains of other men in an
effort to cure psychic states. Psychiatry had passed that period,
at least on the civilized worlds, where even animal experiments
were frowned upon as unnecessary cruelty.

"You saw those two Lani," Alexander said. "Grandfather had them
made that way as a birthday present for Douglas. He was getting
senile. He died a year later. You'd think a man would be ashamed
to keep things like that around -- but not Douglas. He likes
them." Alexander's voice was tinged with contempt. "He knows they
disgust me -- so he parades them in. I could strangle that pup
sometimes!"

"I wondered about it. I wouldn't like to work for a man who
permitted such things."

"That was done before I took over. For the past three years there
have been no dockings, no mutilations. I can't see treating a
helpless animal like that."

"I feel better about it," Kennon said. "I didn't think you were
that sort."

"Understand me," Alexander said. "I'm always opposed to senseless
cruelty and waste -- particularly when it's dangerous. Docked
Lani are the height of stupidity. Just because someone wants a
pet that is an exact duplicate of a human being is no reason to
risk a court action. Those Lani, and a few others whose tails
have been docked, could be a legal bombshell if they ever left
Flora."

Kennon was jolted. He had been thinking of mental mutilation and
Alexander had been talking physical. Naturally they would be
dangerous property. Anyone attempting to sell a docked Lani would
probably be thrown in Detention and charged with slave trading.

"Did you ever figure the cost of taking a legal action through
our court system?" Alexander asked. "Even the small ones set you
back four or five thousand, and a first-class action like a
Humanity Trial could cost over a million. Grandfather found that
out. Sure, there are differences between Lani and humans, but a
smart lawyer can make them seem trivial until the final test and
that would drag on for nearly two years until all the
requirements were satisfied -- and by that time the unfavorable
publicity would drop sales to zero. The Family would be on my
neck for lost dividends, and I'd lose much of the control I hold
over them.

"Sure, it's possible that prehensile tails could be produced by
mutation, but so far as we know it hasn't happened in human
history. As a result, the tail serves as a trade-mark - something
that can be easily recognized by anyone. So we sell them intact."
Alexander crossed his legs and settled back in his chair. "Shocks
you, doesn't it?"

Kennon nodded. "Yes," he admitted. "It does."

"I know. You can't help it. Most of our new employees think the
Lani are human - at first. They learn better, but adjustment is
always a strain. They keep confusing external appearances with
the true article. But remember this -- Lani are not human.
They're animals. And on this island they're treated as what they
are -- no more, no less. They are a part of our economics and are
bred, fed, and managed according to sound livestock principles.
Despite some of the things you may see here in Alexandria, don't
forget that. You are a veterinarian. Your job is to handle
disease problems in animals. Lani are animals. Therefore you will
be doing your job. I was disappointed in your reaction when you
first saw them, but I suppose it was natural. At any rate this
should clear the air."

"It does -- intellectually," Kennon admitted. "But the physical
resemblance is so close that it is difficult to accept."

Alexander smiled. "Don't worry. You'll accept it in time. Now I
think it's time that you met the Family."

CHAPTER V

The main salon was crowded. The huge room, glittering with
mirrors and crystal, floored with thick carpets, and hung with
rich drapes, had something of the appearance of a Sarkian harem.
Although there were only five of the Alexander family present,
there were at least twenty Lani whose costumes ranged from the
black G string and halter of the household staff to the utter
nudity of Douglas's playthings. They were all female, and Kennon
wondered for a moment what a male was like.

Besides Alexander, there were two men and three women: Douglas,
still with his sulky expression, an older man in his late
nineties who looked like Douglas's eider brother, two mature
women who could be any age from fifty to three hundred, and a
girl. She might have been thirty -- perhaps younger, perhaps
older, a lean feminine edition of Alexander, with the same
intriguing face and veiled predatory look. There was a hardness
about her that was absent in the others. Kennon had the feeling
that whatever this girl did, she didn't do it half way.

"My sister Eloise," Alexander said in a low voice. "Watch out for
her. She's as deadly as a puff adder and she collects men. The
other man is Douglas's father, Henry. The plump redhead beside
him is his wife, Anne. The other woman is my mother, Clara, even
though Eloise and I don't look like her. We take after Father."

"Where's he?" Kennon whispered.

"Dead," Alexander replied. "He was killed twenty years ago."

"I'd like to present Dr. Jac Kennon, our new veterinarian,"
Alexander said into the hush that followed their entrance. The
introductions that followed were in proper form, and Kennon was
beginning to feel more at ease until Eloise sent one of her Lani
with a summons. He looked around for Alexander, but the
entrepreneur was the center of a three-cornered argument, hemmed
in by Douglas, Henry, and Anne. Henry's voice was raised in
bitter protest that Alexander was exceeding his authority. He
shrugged. There was no help there.

"All right," he said, "tell your mistress I'll be along in a
moment."

"Yes, Doctor," the Lani said, "but the Woman Eloise says for you
to come, and she is not accustomed to being disobeyed."

"Tell her what I said," Kennon replied. "I shall be there
directly." He crossed to the table and examined it, selecting a
cluster of odd purple fruit which looked more interesting than it
tasted. When he had finished he walked leisurely over to where
Eloise sat.

She looked at him angrily. "I am accustomed to being obeyed by my
employees," she said coldly. Her dark eyes, oddly like her
brother's, traversed his hard body like twin scanners.

He returned her appraising stare with one of his own. "I'm not
your employee," he said bluntly. "I was hired by your brother,
and there's a full peeper rider on my contract." His eyes
traveled slowly over her carefully arranged hair, her make-up,
her jewelry at throat and arms, her painted finger-  and
toenails, and then across the slim small-breasted lines of her
body half revealed under her thin ankle-length tunic of Lyranian
silk.

"Satisfied?" she asked.

"On Beta," he said bluntly, "your appearance would qualify you
for a parasite camp. Six months of hard labor would do you no end
of good. You're soft, lazy, and undisciplined."

Eloise gasped. "Why, you----"she sputtered.

"And perhaps next time you'll learn to be polite," Kennon
continued imperturbably. "After all, the superficial attributes
of good breeding are not too hard to counterfeit."

To his surprise, Eloise giggled. "You bite, don't you?" she
asked. "Remind me to remember that."

"I shall."

"Of course, your actions weren't good breeding either."

"Admitted -- but I've never pretended to be what I'm not. I'm the
son of a spaceship skipper, and I'm a veterinarian. That's all."

"That's not all. You are also a man." Her face was sober, "It's
been some time since I've met one. I'd almost forgotten they
existed."

"There's your brother."

"Alex? -- he's a money making machine. Come -- sit beside me and
let's talk."

"About what?"

"You -- me -- your job, your life -- anything you wish?"

"That line isn't exactly new," Kennon grinned.

"I know," she admitted, "but it usually works."

"I'm immune."

"That's what you think." Eloise's eyes were frankly appraising.
"I think I could become interested in you."

"I have a job here. I don't think I would have time to give you
the attention you'd demand."

"I get bored easily. It probably wouldn't be long before I would
be tired of you."

"Perhaps -- and perhaps not, I can't afford to take the chance."

"You seem confident."

"You forget. I was a sailor."

"And spacemen have a reputation, eh?" Eloise chuckled.

"At that, you might be right. I remember the first officer
of--"she let the thought die. "But I became tired of him," she
finished.

Kennon smiled. "I've never had that complaint."

"Perhaps you'd like to make the acid test?" she asked.

"Perhaps," he said. "But not tonight."

"Tomorrow then? Alex will be leaving in the morning. He never
stays more than a few hours." Eloise's eyes were bright, her lips
moist and red.

"I'll pick the time," Kennon said -- and added to himself, "If
ever." Despite her wealth Eloise was no different from the
port-of-call girls. If anything, she was worse since she had
enough money to implement her desires. They were merely in the
trade for business reasons. No -- Eloise would be something to
steer clear of. Alexander was right. She was a mantrap. He stood
up and bowed Betan fashion. "I see your brother is free now. He
wants to brief me on my duties here. We were discussing it before
we entered."

Eloise pouted. "You can always do that."

"You said yourself that Alexander never stays here very long. I
would be a poor employee if I delayed him." He grinned knowingly
at her and she smiled back with complete understanding.

"Very well, then. Get your business done. Your pleasure can
wait."

Kennon steered Alexander over to an open window that led to a
balcony. "Whew! he said. "I see what you mean."

"She's a tartar," Alexander agreed. "I suspect that she's a
nymphomaniac."

"You suspect?" Kennon asked. "By this time you should know. Let's
get out of here. I've had about all of your sister I care to
take."

"Can't say as I blame you. I'll show you to your quarters. Maybe
Old Doc left a bottle or two, although I suspect the old sinner
hung on until the last one was empty."

"If he had to put up with your relatives as a steady diet, I
can't say that I blame him," Kennon said.

"Careful, Doctor. You're talking about my kinfolk," Alexander
said wryly. "At that, though, you have a point." The two men
slipped quietly from the room. Apparently none of the Family was
conscious of their departure except Eloise, who watched them
leave with an enigmatic expression on her narrow face.

They left the fortress through the rear gate and walked slowly
down the winding path that led to the cluster of buildings in the
valley below. It was a beautiful night, calm and clear with the
stars shining down from the dark vault of the heavens. The
constellations were strange, and Kennon missed the moons. Beta
had three, two of which were always in the sky, but Kardon was
moonless. Somehow it gave the sky an empty look.

A damp coolness rose from the ground as the evening rain
evaporated mistily into the still air. Kennon sniffed the odor of
soil and growing vegetation, clean pleasant odors in contrast to
what he had left. In the distance a bird called sleepily from one
of the fortress turrets and was answered by some creature Kennon
couldn't identify. A murmur of blended sound came from the valley
below, punctuated by high-pitched laughter. Someone was singing,
or perhaps chanting would be a better description. The melody was
strange and the words unrecognizable. The thin whine of an
atomotor in the fortress's generating plant slowly built up to a
keening undertone that blended into the pattern of half-perceived
sound.

"Nice, isn't it?" Alexander remarked as they rounded another turn
on the switchback path.

"Yes. You can't hear a sound from back there except for that
generator. It's almost as though we shut those people out of
existence by merely closing a door."

"I wish it were that simple," Alexander said. "But doors that can
be closed can also be opened. Well - think you'll like it here?"

"I think so, providing I don't have to entertain your
relatives.''

"You mean Eloise? Don't worry about her. She's as fickle as the
wind."

"I've never seen anyone so frankly predatory," Kennon said. "She
worries me."

"They'll all be gone tomorrow -- except for Eloise," Alexander
said with mock comfort. "Douglas is on the Otpens for a year, and
the others are off somewhere."

"You'll be staying, I suppose."

"No -- I'm afraid I can't."

"I hoped you'd help me get organized. This whole thing has been
something of a shock. I was expecting something entirely
different."

"Sorry -- someone has to run the business. But Blalok'll brief
you. Actually he's more qualified than I. He knows everything
worth knowing about this place. We're going past his house in a
minute--want to stop in and see him?"

"It's pretty late."

"Not for Blalok. He's a Mystic -- a nocturnal. He's probably
doing his work now."

"Perhaps we shouldn't disturb him."

"Nonsense. He's used to it. I visit him frequently at night."

"Sure -- but you're the boss."

"Well -- in a sense you are too. At least in the veterinary end
of this business." Alexander swung sharply to the left and
climbed a short flight of stairs that led to the nearest house.
Lights flared on the deep porch, and the old-fashioned  iris door
dilated to frame the black silhouette of a stocky,
broad-shouldered man.

"Good evening, sir," he said. "I was expecting you. That the new
vet with you?"

"Your pipeline's still working, I see," Alexander said. "Yes,
this is Dr. Kennon -- Evald Blalok -- I wanted you two to meet."

Kennon liked the gray middle-aged man. He looked honest and
competent, a solid quiet man with a craggy face and the deep-set
eyes of a Mystic. His skin had the typical thickness and pore
prominence of the dwellers on that foggy world from which he
came. But unlike the natives of Myst, his skin was burned a dark
brown by Kardon's sun. He seemed out of place on this tropic
world, but Kennon reflected wryly that there was probably more
than one misplaced human here, himself included.

"I've been going over Station Fourteen's records with Jordan,''
Blalok said as he ushered them into the house. A tall
black-haired man rose as they entered.

"Skip the formality, Jordan. Sit down," Alexander said, "and meet
Dr. Kennon -- Steve Jordan -- Jordan runs the Lani Division."

Kennon nodded acknowledgment as Alexander continued, "What's this
trouble at Fourteen?"

"I don't know. We've got an epizootic of something. Another
youngster died this morning, and there's three more that look
pretty bad, jaundice, no appetite, complaining of muscular pains.
Same symptoms as took the others. The one this morning makes the
fourth this month, and we're only half through it."

"Are all your losses in this one station?" Kennon asked.

"No -- but it's worst there."

"I don't like losses like that," Alexander said.

"Neither do I," Jordan replied.

"This isn't Jordan's fault, sir," Blalok said quickly. "As you
know, we haven't had a vet for three months."

"Two," Alexander corrected.

"Three -- Old Doc wasn't around at all the month before he died,"
Blalok said. "As a result we've got a problem. We need
professional help."

"Well here he is -- use him," Alexander said. He looked at
Kennon, a trace of amusement on his face. "There's nothing like
getting into things early."

"Particularly when one comes into them stone cold," Kennon added.
"It's a poor way to start a career."

"We can't afford to wait," Jordan said. "We need help."

"I'll see what can be done," Kennon replied. "Have you saved the
body?"

"Every one of them," Jordan said. "They're in the hospital in the
autopsy room."

That was sensible. A post-mortem might give us an answer. Where's
the hospital?"

"I'll show you," Jordan offered.

"Count me out," Alexander said. "I have a weak stomach."

"I'll go along if it's necessary," Blalok said.

"There's a staff there, Old Doc trained them," Jordan said.

"Then it shouldn't be necessary," Kennon said.

Blalok sighed with relief and turned to Alexander. "We could
check the records while those two are about their bloody work."

"I'd rather check a long strong drink," Alexander replied. "What
with the Family and this, it's too much to take for one evening."

Kennon hid a smile. Alexander had a weak spot. He was squeamish.
That was a good thing to know.

CHAPTER VI

Jordan opened the door of the two-story building below Blalok's
house. "This is it," he said, "just outside your front door.
Convenient -- no?"

"Too convenient," Kennon said, "also too quiet. Isn't anyone on
duty?"

"I wouldn't know. Old Doc never kept the place open at night."

There was a stir of movement in the darkness, the lights flashed
on, and a sleepy-eyed Lani blinked at them in the sudden glare.
She looked blankly at Kennon and then brightened as she saw
Jordan. "What's the trouble, sir?" she asked.

"Nothing. We want to look at the Lani I sent down this morning --
Dr. Kennon would like to inspect the carcass."

"You're the new doctor?" the Lani asked. "Thank goodness you've
come! I'll get the staff. I'll be back in a moment." She stepped
quickly over to the switchboard beside the door and punched five
buttons. Four more humanoids came into the room, followed a
little later by a fifth.

"Where's the emergency?" one asked.

"He is -- it's our new doctor."

"More females," Kennon muttered to himself. He turned to Jordan.
"Aren't there any males in this crew?"

Jordan stared at him with mild surprise. "No, sir -- didn't you
know? There are no male Lani."

"What?"

"Just that," Jordan said. "Only females. There hasn't been a male
on the island since Old Man Alexander took over. He killed them
all."

"But that's impossible! How do they reproduce?"

"Ever hear of artificial fertilization?"

"Sure -- but that's a dead end. The offspring are haploids and
they're sterile. The line would die out in a generation."

"Not the Lani--you can see for yourself. We've been using the
technique here for better than four centuries, and we're still
doing all right. Over forty generations so far, and from the
looks of things we can go on indefinitely."

"But how is it done?"

"I don't know. That's Alexander's secret. The Boss-man doesn't
tell us everything. All I know is that we get results. Old Doc
knew how it was done, and I suppose you will too, but don't ask
me. I'm dumb."

Kennon shrugged. Maybe -- maybe not. At any rate there was no
sense in belaboring the point. He turned to the staff. Five of
them were the same big-boned heavy-framed type that apparently
did most of the manual labor. The sixth, the late arrival, was an
elegant creature, a bronze-skinned, green-eyed minx with an elfin
face half hidden under a wavy mass of red-brown hair. Unlike the
others, she had been docked - and in contrast to their heavy eyes
and sleep-puffed features she was alert and lively. She flashed
him an impish grin, revealing clean white teeth.

Kennon smiled back. He couldn't help it. And suddenly the tension
and strangeness was broken. He felt oddly at ease. "Which of you
are on duty?" he asked.

"All of us," the redhead replied, "if it's necessary. What do you
want us to do?"

"He's already told me. He wants that last carcass prepped for a
post-mortem," the nightcall Lani said.

"Good," the redhead said. "It'll be nice to get to work again."
She turned to face Kennon. "Now, Doctor -- would you like to see
your office? Old Doc left a fine collection of notes on Lani
anatomy and perhaps you could do with a little review."

"I could do with a lot of it," Kennon admitted. "Unless the inner
structure of a Lani is as similar to human as their outer."

"There are differences," the redhead admitted. "After all, we
aren't quite alike."

"Perhaps I'd better do some reading," Kennon said.

"You need me any more?" Jordan asked.

"No -- I think not."

"Good. I'll get back. Frankly, I don't like this any better than
Blalok or the boss, but I'm low man on that pole. See you later."

Kennon chuckled as Jordan left. "Now, let's get ready for that
cadaver," he said.

"Carcass, doctor," the redhead corrected. "A cadaver is a dead
human body." She accented the "human."

Even in death there is no equality, Kennon thought. He nodded and
the Lani led the way to a door which opened into a good-sized
office, liberally covered with bookshelves. An old-fashioned
plastic desk, some office cybernetics, a battered voicewriter,
and a few chairs completed the furnishings. The redhead placed
several large folio volumes in front of him and stepped back from
the desk as he leafed rapidly through the color plates. It was an
excellent atlas. Dr. Williamson had been a careful and competent
workman.

Half an hour later, well fortified with a positional knowledge of
Lani viscera, Kennon looked up at the redhead. She was still
standing patiently, a statue of red-gold and bronze.

"Get a smock and let's go," he said. "No -- wait a minute."

"Yes, sir?"

"What's your name? I don't want to say 'Hey you!'"

She smiled. "It's Copper Glow - want my pedigree too?"

"No -- it wouldn't mean anything to me. Do they call you Copper
or Glow? or both?"

"Just Copper, sir."

"Very well, Copper - let's get going."

* * *

The body of the dead Lani lay on the steel table, waxy and
yellowish in the pitiless light of the fluorescents. She had been
hardly more than a child. Kennon felt a twinge of pity - so young
- so young to die. And as he looked he was conscious of another
feeling.

It had been an open secret among his classmates that he had
refused an offer to study human medicine because of his aversion
to dissecting cadavers. The sarcoplastic models were all right,
but when it came to flesh, Kennon didn't have the stomach for it.
And now, the sight of the dead humanoid brought back the same
cold sweat and gut-wrenching nausea that had caused him to turn
to veterinary medicine eight years ago.

He fought the spasms back as he approached the table and made the
external examination. Icterus and a swollen abdomen - the rest
was essentially normal. And he knew with cold certainty that he
could not lay a scalpel edge upon that cold flesh. It was too
human, too like his own.

"Are you ready, Doctor?" the Lani standing across the table from
him asked. "Shall I expose the viscera?"

Kennon's stomach froze. Of course! He should have realized! No
pathologist did his own dissection. He examined. And that he
could do. It was the tactile, not the visual sensations that
upset him. He nodded. "The abdominal viscera first," he said.

The Lani laid back the skin and musculature with bold, sure
strokes. An excellent prosectress, Kennon thought. Kennon pointed
at the swollen liver and the Lani deftly severed its attachments
and laid the organ out for inspection. The cause of death was
obvious. The youngster had succumbed to a massive liver-fluke
infestation. It was the worst he had ever seen. The bile ducts
were thick, calcified and choked with literally thousands of the
gray-green leaf-shaped trematodes.

"Let's look at the others," he said.

Two more post-mortems confirmed the diagnosis. Except for minor
differences, the lesions were identical. He removed a few of the
flukes and set them aside for further study.

"Well that's that," he said. "You can clean up now."

He had found the criminal, and now the problem assumed the
fascinating qualities of a crime hunt. Now he must act to prevent
further murders, to reconstruct the crime, to find the modus
operandi, to track the fluke to its source, and to execute it
before it could do more harm.

Photographs and tri-dis would have to be taken, the parasite
would have to be identified and its sensitivity to therapy
determined. Studies would have to be made on its life cycle, and
the means by which it gained entrance to its host. It wouldn't be
simple, because this trematode was probably Hepatodirus hominis,
and it was tricky. It adapted, like the species it parasitized.

Kennon leaned back from the microscope and studied the
illustrations in the parasitology text. No matter how much
Hepatodirus changed its life cycle, it could not change its adult
form. The arrangements of the suckers and genital structures were
typical. Old Doc's library on parasites was too inadequate for
more than diagnosis. He would have to wait for his own books to
be uncrated before he could do more than apply symptomatic
treatment. He sighed and rose slowly to his feet. Tomorrow was
going to be a busy day.

The door opened behind Mm and Copper slipped quietly into the
office. She looked at him curiously, a faint half-shy smile on
her face.

"What is it?" Kennon asked.

"Are you ready to fill out the autopsy protocol? It's customary."

"It's also customary to knock on a door before entering."

"Is it? Old Doc never mentioned it."

"I'm not Old Doc."

"No, you're not," she admitted. "You're much younger - and far
more beautiful. Old Doc was a fat, gray old man." She paused and
eyed Kennon appraisingly with a look on her pointed face that was
the virtual twin of Eloise's. "I think I'll like working for you
if you're as nice as you are pretty."

"You don't call a man beautiful or pretty!" Kennon exploded.

"Why not?"

"It just isn't done"

"You're a funny human," she said. "I called Old Doc beautiful,
and he didn't mind."

"That's different. He was an old man."

"What difference does that make?"

"I don't like it," Kennon said, hitting on the perfect answer.

She stiffened. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I won't do it again." She
looked down at him, head cocked sideways. "I guess I have a lot
to learn about you. You're much different from Old Doc. He didn't
snap at me." She paused for a moment, then drew a deep breath.

Kennon blinked.

"About that report," she said. "Regulations require that each
post-mortem be reported promptly and that a record of the Lani
concerned be posted in the death book together with all pertinent
autopsy data. Man Blalok is very fussy about proper records." She
drew one of the chairs to a spot beside the desk and sat down,
crossed her long legs, and waited expectantly.

Kennon's mouth was suddenly dry. This situation was impossible.
How in the name of Sir Arthur Fleming could he dictate a coldly
precise report with a naked redhead sitting beside him? "Look,"
he said. "I won't need you. I can operate a voicewriter. You can
pick up the material later and transcribe it."

Her face fell. "You don't like me," she said, her green eyes
filling with quick tears. "Old Doc never---"

"Oh, damn Old Doc!" Kennon snapped. "And stop that sniveling --
or get out. Better yet -- get out and stop sniveling!"

She leaped to her feet and fled.

Kennon swore. There was no reason for him to act that way. He had
been more brutal than necessary. But the girl -- no, the Lani --
was disconcerting. He felt ashamed of himself. He had behaved
like a primitive rather than a member of one of the oldest human
civilizations in the galaxy. He wouldn't bark at a dog that way.
He shook his head. Probably he was tired. Certainly he was
irritable, and unclad females virtually indistinguishable from
human weren't the most soothing objects to contemplate.

He wondered if his exasperation was real or merely a defense
mechanism. First Eloise, and then this! Confound it! He was
surrounded! He felt trapped. And it wasn't because he'd been away
from women too long. A week was hardly that. He grinned as he
recalled the blonde from Thule aboard the starship. Now there was
a woman, even though her ears were pointed and her arms were too
long. She didn't pressure a man. She let him make the advances.

He grinned. That was it. He was on the defensive. He was the one
who was being pursued -- and his male ego had revolted. He
shrugged and turned his attention to the autopsy report, but it
was hopeless. He couldn't concentrate. He jotted a few notes and
dropped them on the desk -- tomorrow would be time enough. What
he needed now was a stiff drink and eight hours' sleep.

CHAPTER VII

Kennon stopped at Blalok's house long enough to tell the
superintendent what was causing the trouble. Blalok scowled.
"We've never had flukes here before," he said. "Why should they
appear now?"

"They've been introduced," Kennon said. "The thing that bothers
me is how Dr. Williamson missed them."

"The old man was senile," Blalok said. "He was nearly blind the
last six months of his life. I wouldn't doubt that he let his
assistants do most of his work, and they could have missed them."

"Possibly, but the lesions are easy to see. At any rate, the
culprit is known now."

"Culprit?"

"Hepatodirus hominis -- the human liver fluke. He's a tricky
little fellow -- travels almost as far as men do."

"I'm glad it's your problem, not mine. All I can remember about
flukes is that they're hard to eradicate."

"Particularly H. hominis."

"You can tell me about it later. Right now Mr. Alexander's over
at Old -- your house. Probably he's looking for you."

"Where's Jordan?"

"He went up to Station Fourteen. We'll see him tomorrow."

"I'll say good night then," Kennon said.

"I'm glad you're here. It's a load off my shoulders. See you
tomorrow." Blalok waved a friendly good night and left the lights
on long enough for Kennon to make his way to his quarters.

Alexander was seated in a heavily upholstered chair listening to
a taped symphony in the stereo, his eyes half closed, an
expression of peace on his face. An elderly Lani stood beside
him. It was a comfortable picture.

The humanoid saw Kennon and gasped, a tiny indrawn sound of
surprise. Alexander's eyes snapped open. "Oh -- it's you," he
said. "Don't worry, Kara -- it's your new doctor."

Kara smiled. "You startled me," she said. "I was dreaming."

"On your feet?" Alexander interjected idly.

"I should have known you at once, Doctor. There's talk about you
all over the yards, ever since you arrived."

"They know what is going on around here better than any of us,"
Alexander chuckled. "The grapevine is amazingly efficient. Well
-- what's the story?"

"Liver fluke."

"Hmm - not good."

"I think it can be stopped. I looked at the records. It doesn't
seem to have been here too long."

"I hope you're right. How long will it take?"

"Several months, maybe a year, maybe more. I can't say. But I'll
try to clean it up as quickly as possible. I'm pretty sure of the
fluke, and it's a hard one to control."

"Hepatodirus?"

Kennon nodded.

"That's an offworld parasite, isn't it?"

"Yes. It originated on Santos. Parasitized the Varl originally,
but liked humans better. It's adapted to a hundred different
planetary environments, and it keeps spreading. It's a real cutie
- almost intelligent the way it behaves. But it can be licked."

"Good - get on it right away."

"I'm starting tomorrow."

"Fine -- I thought you'd be the right man. Kara! Fix the doctor a
drink. We might as well have a nightcap -- then I'll go back to
the house and listen to Henry and Anne's screams about poor
mistreated Douglas, and then back to Albertsville tomorrow. Duty
and the credits call."

With mild surprise, Kennon realized that Alexander was drunk. Not
obnoxiously, but enough to change his character. Intoxicated, he
was a friendlier person. If there was any truth in the ancient
cliche about alcohol bringing out a man's true character, then
Alexander was basically a very nice person indeed.

"Well -- here's your home for the next five years," Alexander
said. "Eight rooms, two baths, a freshener, and three Lani to
keep the place running. You've got it made."

"Perhaps -- we'll see when we tackle this fluke infestation.
Personally, I don't think I'm going to have an easy time.
Tomorrow I'm going to be up to my neck in trouble trying to save
your profits."

"You'll do it. I have confidence in you."

"I still think you should have hired a medic."

"This isn't all of your job," Alexander said. "And besides I
can't afford to do it. Oh - not the money, but it might be
admitting that the Lani might be human. And we've gone to a great
deal of trouble to prove they're not." He shifted uncomfortably
in his chair. "There's a story behind this."

"I wouldn't doubt it."

"Maybe it'd be better if I told it. It goes back over four
centuries. Grandfather was a clever man. After he had secured
this island he became worried about the surviving Lani. He didn't
want to be accused of genocide, since the Lani were so human in
appearance. So he had his medical officer make a few autopsies.
The M.D. reported that while there was similarity, the Lani were
probably not human.

"That was enough for Grandfather. He requested a Court of
Inquiry. The court was sitting in Halsey and the hearing was
private. Even so, it leaked and Grandfather was highly unpopular
for a time until the lab reports came in. It cost him over eight
hundred Ems and nearly two years' time to finish the case, but
when it was over the Lani were declared alien, and Grandfather
had ironclad discovery rights.

"They really put him through the mill. Grandfather furnished the
bodies and three court-appointed M.O.'s went through them with
microscopes. They didn't miss a thing. Their reports are so
detailed that they're classics of their kind. They're almost
required reading for anyone who wants to learn Lani structure and
function. The court rendered an interim decision that the Lani
were nonhuman, and armed with this, Grandfather prepared the
final tests which were run by a team of court-appointed medics
and biologists, who made in vitro and live tests on a number of
Lani female prisoners. The tests ran for over two years and were
totally negative. So the Alexander family acquired Flora and the
Otpens, and a legal status." Alexander stood up. "Well -- that's
a capsule summary. The records are in the library if you'd care
to check them."

"Why?"

"Just to prove we're honest." He moved carefully toward the door,
opened it, and disappeared into the night.

Silently Kennon watched him descend the porch steps. He seemed
steady enough. For a moment Kennon debated whether he should see
him home -- and then decided against it. If Alexander needed help
he'd have asked for it. As it was, it was better to leave things
alone. Certainly he didn't know Alexander well enough to act as a
guardian. He turned back to the living area. The stereo was
playing something soft and nostalgic as Kennon sank into the
chair Alexander had vacated. He let his body relax. It had been
as full a day as he had ever spent filled with changes so abrupt
that they were exhausting. He felt confused. There were no
precedents he could apply. Neither his studies nor his travels
had prepared him for living in a situation like this.

Legally and biologically the Lani weren't human. But they were
intelligent, upright, bipedal mammals whose morphology was so
close to man's that it had taken the ultimate test to settle
their status. And being a Betan, Kennon was suspicious of the
accuracy of that ultimate test.

But the Brotherhood of Man was based upon it. The feeling of
unity that pervaded mankind's expanding empire was its product.
From almost the beginning of mankind's leap to the stars it had
been recognized that men must help each other or perish. The
spirit of co-operation against the common enmity of alien worlds
and cultures transcended the old petty rivalries on Earth. Men --
all men -- were brothers in arms.

And so the Brotherhood was born -- and the concept born of
necessity developed its muscles in a thousand battles on a
thousand hostile worlds. And ultimately it evolved into the only
form of central authority that men would accept. Yet basically it
was not a government. It was an attitude  of mind. Men accepted
its decisions as they would accept the rulings of a family
council, and for the same reasons.

The Brotherhood laid down certain rules but it did not attempt to
enforce them. After all, it didn't need to. It also arbitrated
disputes, admitted new worlds to membership, and organized
concerted human effort against dangerous enemies. And that was
all. Yet in its sphere the authority of the Brotherhood was
absolute.


There was only one criterion for membership in the Brotherhood --
membership in the human race. No matter how decadent or primitive
a population might be, if it was human it was automatically
eligible for Brotherhood - a free and equal partner in the
society of human worlds.

Kennon doubted that any nonhuman race had ever entered the select
circle of humanity, although individuals might have done so. A
docked Lani, for instance, would probably pass unquestioned as a
human, but the Lani race would not. In consequence they and their
world were fair prey, and had been attacked and subjugated.

Of course, proof of inhumanity was seldom a problem. Most alien
life forms were obviously alien. But there were a few -- like the
Lani--where similarities were so close that it was impossible to
determine their status on the basis of morphology alone. And so
the Humanity Test had come into being.

Essentially it was based upon species compatibility -- on the
concept that like can interbreed with like. Tests conducted on
every inhabited world in the Brotherhood had proven this
conclusively. Whatever changes had taken place in the somatic
characteristics of mankind since the Exodus, they had not altered
the compatibility of human germ plasm. Man could interbreed with
man - aliens could not. The test was simple. The results were
observable. And what was more important, everyone could
understand it. No definition of humanity could be more simple or
direct.

But was it accurate?

Like other Betans, Kennon wondered. It was -- so far - probably.
The qualifying phrases were those of the scientist, that strange
breed that refuses to accept anything as an established fact
until it is proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. After all, the
human race had been spaceborne for only six thousand years --
scarcely time for any real differences to develop. But physical
changes had already appeared -- and it would only be a question
of time before these would probably be followed by genetic
changes. And in some groups the changes might be extensive enough
to make them genetic strangers to the rest of humanity.

What would happen then? No one knew. Actually no one bothered to
think about it except for a few far-seeing men who worried as
they saw.

Probably.

Might.

Possibly.

If.

Four words. But because of them the Betans were slowly
withdrawing from the rest of humanity. Already the radiations of
Beta's variant-G sun had produced changes in the population.
Little things like tougher epidermis and depilation of body hair
-- little things that held alarming implications to Beta's
scientists, and to Beta's people. Not too many generations hence
a Betan outside his home system would be a rarity, and in a few
millennia the Betan system itself would be a closed enclave
peopled by humans who had deviated too far from the basic stock
to mingle with it in safety.

Of course, the Brotherhood itself might be changed by that time,
but there was no assurance that this would happen. And mankind
had a history of dealing harshly with its mutants. So Beta would
play it safe.

Kennon wondered if there were other worlds in the Brotherhood
that had come to the same conclusion. Possibly there were. And
possibly there were worlds where marked deviations had occurred.
There wasn't a year that passed that didn't bring some new human
world into the Brotherhood, and many of these had developed from
that cultural explosion during the First Millennium known as the
Exodus, where small groups of colonists in inadequate ships set
out for unannounced goals to homestead new worlds for man. Some
of these survived, and many were being discovered even at this
late date. But so far none had any difficulty in proving their
human origin.

The Lani, conceivably, could have been descendants of one of
these groups, which probably explained the extreme care the
Brotherhood courts had taken with their case. But they had failed
the test, and were declared animals. Yet it was possible that
they had mutated beyond genetic compatibility. If they had, and
if it were proved, here was a test case that could rock the
galaxy -- that could shake the Brotherhood to its very
foundations -- that could force a re-evaluation of the criteria
of humanity.

Kennon grinned. He was a fine employee. Here he was, less than a
full day on the job, dreaming how he could ruin his employer,
shake the foundation of human civilization, and force ten
thousand billion humans to change their comfortable habit
patterns and their belief in the unchangeable sameness of men. He
was, he reflected wryly, an incurable romantic.

CHAPTER VIII

"Wake up, Doctor, it's six A.M." A pleasant voice cut through
Kennon's slumber. He opened one eye and looked at the room. For a
moment the strange surroundings bothered him, then memory took
over. He stirred uncomfortably, looking for the owner of the
voice.

"You have your morning calls at seven, and there's a full day
ahead," the voice went on. "I'm sorry, sir, but you should get
up." The voice didn't sound particularly sorry.

It was behind him, Kennon decided. He rolled over with a groan of
protest and looked at his tormentor. A gasp of dismay left his
lips, for standing beside the bed, a half smile on her pointed
face, was Copper -- looking fresh and alert and as disturbing as
ever.

It wasn't right, Kennon thought bitterly, to be awakened from a
sound sleep by a naked humanoid who looked too human for comfort.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I'm supposed to be here," Copper said. "I'm your secretary.''
She grinned and flexed a few curves of her torso.

Kennon was silent.

"Is there anything wrong?" she asked.

For a moment Kennon was tempted to tell her what was wrong -- but
he held his tongue. She probably wouldn't understand. But there
was one thing he'd better settle right now. "Now look here, young
lady--" he began.

"I'm not a lady," Copper interrupted before he could continue.
"Ladies are human. I'm a Lani."

"All right," Kennon growled. "Lani or human, who cares?

But do you have to break into a man's bedroom and wake him in the
middle of the night?"

"I didn't break in," she said, "and it isn't the middle of the
night. It's morning."

"All right -- so it's morning and you didn't break in. Then how
in Halstead's sacred name did you get here?"


"I sleep next door," she said jerking a thumb in the direction of
an open door in the side wall. "I've been there ever since you
dismissed me last night," she explained.

The explanation left Kennon cold. The old cliche about doing as
the Santosians do flicked through his mind. Well, perhaps he
would in time -- but not yet. The habits of a lifetime couldn't
be overturned overnight. "Now you have awakened me," he said,
"perhaps you'll get out of here."

"Why?"

"I want to get dressed."

"I'll help you."

"You will not! I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.
I've been dressing myself for years. I'm not used to people
helping me."

"My -- what a strange world you must come from. Haven't you ever
had a Lani before?"

"No."

"You poor man." Her voice was curiously pitying. "No one to make
you feel like the gods. No one to serve you. No one to even scrub
your back."

"That's enough," Kennon said. "I can scrub my own back."

"How? -- you can't reach it."

Kennon groaned.

"Weren't there any Lani on your world?"

"No."

"No wonder you left it. It must be quite primitive."

"Primitive!" Kennon's voice was outraged. "Beta has one of the
highest civilizations in the Brotherhood!"

"But you don't have Lani," she said patiently. "So you must be
primitive."

"Halstead, Fleming, and Ochsner!" Kennon swore. "Do you believe
that?"

"Naturally, isn't it obvious? You can't possibly be civilized
unless you take responsibility for intelligent life other than
your own race. Until you face up to your responsibilities you are
merely a member of a dominant race, not a civilized one."

Kennon's reply caught in his throat. His eyes widened as he
looked at her, and what he was about to say remained unspoken.
"Out of the mouths of humanoids--" he muttered oddly.

"What does that mean?" Copper asked.

"Forget it," Kennon said wildly. "Leave me alone. Go put on some
clothes. You embarrass me."

"I'll go," Copper said, "but you'll have to be embarrassed. Only
household Lani wear cloth." She frowned, two vertical furrows
dividing her dark brows. "I've never understood why inhouse Lani
have to be disfigured that way, but I suppose there's some reason
for it. Men seldom do anything without a reason."

Kennon shook his head. Either she was grossly ignorant, which he
doubted, or she was conditioned to the eyeballs.

The latter was more probable. But even that was doubtful. Her
trenchant remark about civilization wasn't the product of a
conditioned mind. But why was he worrying about her attitudes?
They weren't important -- she wasn't even human. He shook his
head. That was a sophistry. The fact that she wasn't human had
nothing to do with the importance of her attitude. "I suppose
there is a reason," he agreed. "But I don't know it. I haven't
been here long enough to

know anything about such things."

She nodded. "That does make a difference," she admitted. "Many
new men are bothered at first by the fact that we Lani are naked,
but they adjust quickly. So will you." She smiled as she turned
away. "You see," she added over her shoulder as she left the
room, "we're not human. We're just another of your domestic
animals."

Was there laughter in her voice? Kennon wasn't sure. His sigh was
composed of equal parts of relief and exasperation as he slipped
out of bed and began to dress. He'd forgo the shower this
morning. He had no desire for Copper to appear and offer to scrub
his back. In his present state of mind he couldn't take it.
Possibly he'd get used to it in time. Perhaps he might even like
it. But right now he wasn't acclimatized.

* * *

"Man Blalok called," Copper said as she removed the breakfast
dishes. "He said that he'd be right over to pick you up. He wants
to show you the operation.""When did he call?"

"About ten minutes ago. I told him that you were at breakfast. He
said he'd wait." She disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

"There's a nightmare quality to this," Kennon muttered as he
slipped his arms into the sleeves of his tunic and closed the
seam tabs. "I have the feeling that I'm going to wake up any
minute." He looked at his reflection in the dresser mirror, and
his reflection looked worriedly back. "This whole thing has an
air of plausible unreality: the advertisement, the contract, this
impossible island that raises humanoids as part of the
livestock." He shrugged and his mirrored image shrugged back.
"But it's real, all right. No dream could possibly be this
detailed. I wonder how I'm going to take it for the next five
years? Probably not too well," he mused silently. "Already I'm
talking to myself. Without even trying, that Lani Copper can make
me feel like a Sarkian." He nodded at his image.

The Sarkian analogy was almost perfect, he decided. For on that
grimly backward world females were as close to slaves as the
Brotherhood would permit; raised from birth under an iron regimen
designed to produce complaisant mates for the dominant males.
Probably that was the reason Sark was so backward. The men,
having achieved domestic tranquillity, had no desire to do
anything that would disturb the status quo. And since no Sarkian
woman under any conceivable circumstances would annoy her lordly
master with demands to produce better mousetraps, household
gadgetry, and more money, the technological development of Sark
had come to a virtual standstill. It took two sexes to develop a
civilization.

Kennon shrugged. Worlds developed as they did because people were
as they were, and while passing judgment was still a major human
pursuit, no native of one world had a right to force his customs
down the unwilling throat of another. It would be better to
accept his present situation and live with it rather than trying
to impose his Betan conception of morality upon Lani that neither
understood nor appreciated it. His business was to treat and
prevent animal disease. What happened to the animals before
infection or after recovery was none of his affair. That was a
matter between Alexander and his conscience.

Blalok was waiting for him, sitting behind the wheel of a square
boxy vehicle that squatted with an air of unpolished efficiency
on the graveled drive behind his house. He smiled a quick
greeting as Kennon approached. "It's about time you showed up,"
he said. "You'll have to get into the habit of rising early on
this place. We do most of our work early in the morning and late
in the afternoon. During the day it's too hot to breathe, let
alone work. Well, let's get going. There's still time to visit
the outer stations."

Kennon climbed in and Blalok started the vehicle. "I thought we'd
take a jeep today," he said. "They aren't very pretty, but they
get around." He turned onto the surfaced road that ran down the
hill toward the hospital and the complex of red-roofed buildings
clustered about it. "About those flukes," he said. "You have any
plans to get rid of them?"

"Not yet. I'll have to look the place over. There's more
detective work than medicine involved in this."

"Detective work?"

"Sure -- we know the criminal, but to squelch him we have to
learn his hangouts, study his modus operandi, and learn how to
make his victims secure from his activities. Unless we do that,
we can treat individuals from now to infinity and all we'll have
is more cases. We have to apply modern criminology tactics --
eliminate the source of crime -- stop up the soft spots. In other
words, kill the flukes before they enter the Lani."

"Old Doc never said anything about this," Blalok said.

"Probably he never knew about it. I was looking over the herd
books last night, and I saw nothing about trematodes, or anything
that looked like a parasite pattern until the last few months."

"Why not?"

"My guess is that he was one of the first deaths."

"You mean this thing attacks human beings?"

"Preferentially," Kennon said. "It's strange, too, because it
originated on Santos so far as we know. In fact, some people
think that the Varl bred it for a weapon to use against us before
we conquered them. They could have done it. Their biological
science was of a high enough order."

"But how did it get here?"

"I wouldn't know--unless you've hired a Santosian or someone else
who was affected."

"We did have a man from Santos. Fellow called Joe Kryla. We had
to let him go because he was a nudist. It made a bad impression
on the Lani. But that was over a year ago."

"That's about the right time to build up a good reservoir of
infection. The fatal cases usually don't show up before an area
is pretty well seeded."

"That's not so good."

"Well, there's one thing in our favor. The Lani are pretty well
concentrated into groups. And so far there doesn't seem to be any
infestation outside of Hillside Station - except for two deaths
in Lani recently sent from there. If we quarantine those stations
and work fast, may be we can stop this before it spreads all over
the island"

"That's fine, but what are you going to do now?"

"Treat those that show symptoms. There should be some Trematox
capsules at the hospital. If there aren't we'll get them. We'll
take the sick ones back to the hospital area and push therapy and
supportive treatment. Now that we know the cause, we shouldn't
have any more death losses."

"Old Doc didn't treat at the hospital," Blalok said.

"I'm not Old Doc."

"But it's going to mess up our operations. We're using the ward
buildings to finish training the Lani scheduled for market."

"Why?"

"It's convenient. Most of the ward space is filled right now."
Blalok said. There was a touch of disgust in his voice.

"They're well, aren't they?" Kennon demanded.

"Of course."

"Then get them out of there."

"But I told you-"

"You told me nothing. The hospital area is needed for something
more than a training center. Perhaps Old Doc was trained in
outcall work, but I'm not. I work from a hospital. The only
things I do on outcalls are diagnoses, vaccinations, and
emergencies. The rest of the patients come to the hospital."

"This isn't going to set well with Jordan and the division
chiefs."

"That's not my concern," Kennon said. "I run my business in the
best way possible. The patients are of more concern than the
personal comfort of any straw boss or administrator. You're the
administrator -- you calm them down."

"You have the authority," Blalok admitted. "But my advice to you
is to go slow."

"I can't," Kennon said. "Not if we want to prevent any more
losses. There simply won't be time to run all over the island
dosing with Trematox and taking temperatures, and while that sort
of thing is routine, it should be supervised. Besides, you'll see
the advantages of this method. Soon enough."

"I hope so," Blalok said as he braked the jeep to a stop in front
of the hospital. "I suppose you'll want to take some things
along."

"So I will," Kennon said. "I'll be back in a minute." Kennon slid
from the seat, leaving Blalok looking peculiarly at his departing
back.

The minute stretched to nearly ten before Kennon returned
followed by two Lani carrying bags which they loaded into the
back of the jeep. "I had to reorganize a little," Kennon
apologized, "some things were unfamiliar."

"Plan on taking them?" Blalok said, jerking a thumb at the two
Lani.

"Not this time. I'm having them fit up an ambulance. They should
be busy most of the day."

Blalok grunted and started the turbine. He moved a lever and the
jeep floated off the ground.

"An airboat too," Kennon remarked. "I wondered why this rig was
so boxy."

"It's a multipurpose vehicle," Blalok said. "We need them around
here for fast transport. Most of the roads aren't so good." He
engaged the drive and the jeep began to move. "We'll go cross
country," he said. "Hillside's pretty far out -- the farthest
station since we abandoned Olympus."

The air began whistling past the boxlike body of the jeep as
Blalok increased the power to the drive and set the machine on
automatic. "We'll get a pretty good cross-section of our
operations on this trip," he said over the whine of the turbine.
"Look down there."

They were passing across a series of fenced pastures and Kennon
was impressed. The size of this operation was beginning to sink
in. It hadn't looked so big from the substratosphere in
Alexander's ship, but down here close to the ground it was
enormous. Fields of grain, wide orchards, extensive gardens. Once
they were forced to detour a huge supply boat that rose heavily
in front of them. Working in the fields were dozens of
brown-skinned Lani who paused to look up and wave as the jeep
sped by. Occasional clusters of farm buildings and the low
barrackslike stations appeared and disappeared behind them.

"There's about twenty Lani at each of these stations," Blalok
said, "They work the farm area under the direction of the
stationmaster."

"He's a farmer?"

"Of course. Usually he's a graduate of an agricultural school,
hut we have a few who are descendants of the crew of the first
Alexander, and there's one old codger who was actually with him
during the conquest. Most of our stationmasters are family men.
We feel that a wife and children add to a man's stability -- and
incidentally keep him from fooling around with the Lani."

A series of fenced pastures containing hundreds of huge
grayish-white quadrupeds slipped past.

"Cattle?" Kennon asked.

"Yes - Earth strain. That's why they're so big. We also have
sheep and swine, but you won't see them on this run."

"Any native animals?"

"A few - and some which are native to other worlds. But they're
luxury-trade items. The big sale items are beef, pork, and
mutton." Blalok chuckled. "Did you think that the Lani were our
principal export?"


Kennon nodded.

"They're only a drop in the bucket. Agriculture -- Earth-style
agriculture -- is our main source of income. The Lani are
valuable principally to keep down the cost of overhead. Virtually
all of them work right here on the island. We don't sell more
than a hundred a year less than five per cent of our total. And
those are surplus -- too light or too delicate for farm work."

"Where do you find a market for all this produce?" Kennon asked.

"There's two hundred million people here, and quite a few billion
more in space-train range. We can produce more cheaply than any
competitor, and we can undersell any competition, even full
automation." Blalok chuckled. "There are some things that a
computer can't do as well as a human being, and one of them is
farm the foods on which humanity is accustomed to feed. A man'll
pay two credits for a steak. He could get a Chlorella substitute
for half a credit, but he'll still buy the steak if he can afford
it. Same thing goes for fruit, vegetables, grain, and garden
truck. Man's eating habits have only changed from necessity.
Those who can pay will still pay well for natural foods." Blalok
chuckled. "We've put quite a dent in the algae and synthetics
operations in this sector."

"It's still a luxury trade," Kennon said.

"You've eaten synthetic," Blalok replied. "What do you prefer?"

Kennon had to agree that Blalok was right. He, too, liked the
real thing far better than its imitations.

"If it's this profitable, then why sell Lani?" Kennon asked.

"It's the Family's idea. Actually -- since the export type is
surplus it does us no harm. We keep enough for servants -- and
the others would be inefficient for most farm work. So disposal
by sale is a logical and profitable way of culling. But now the
Boss-man is being pressured into breeding an export type. And
this I don't like. It's too commercial. Smells like slavery."

"You're a Mystic, aren't you?" Kennon asked.

"Sure -- but that doesn't mean I like slavery. Oh, I know some of
those fatheaded Brotherhood economists call our system economic
slavery -- and I'll admit that it's pretty hard to crack out of a
spherical trust. But that doesn't mean that we have to stay where
we are. Mystics aren't owned by their entrepreneurs. Sure, it's a
tough haul to beat the boss, but it can be done. I did it, and
others do it all the time. The situation isn't hopeless."

"But it is with the Lani," Kennon added.

"Of course. That's why they should be protected. What chance does
a Lani have? Without us they can't even keep going as a race.
They're technological morons. They don't live long enough to
understand modern civilization. To turn those poor helpless
humanoids out into human society would be criminal. It's our duty
to protect them even while we're using them."

"Man's burden?' Kennon said, repeating the old cliche.

"Exactly." Blalok scowled. "I wish I had guts enough to give the
Boss-man the facts -- but I can't get nerve enough to try. I've a
good job here -- a wife and two kids -- and I don't want to
jeopardize my future." Blalok glanced over the side. "Well, here
we are," he said, and began descending into the center of a
spokelike mass of buildings radiating outward from a central hub.

"Hmm -- big place," Kennon murmured.

"It should be," Blalok replied. "It furnishes all of our Lani for
replacement and export. It can turn out over a thousand a year at
full capacity. Of course we don't run at that rate, or Flora
would be overpopulated. But this is a big layout, like you said.
It can maintain a population of at least forty thousand. Old
Alexander had big ideas."

"I wonder what he planned to do with them?" Kennon said.

"I wouldn't know. The Old Man never took anyone into his
confidence."

Jordan came up as the jeep settled to the ground. "Been expecting
you for the past half hour," he said. "Your office said you were
on your way. -- Good to see you, too, Doc. I've been going over
the records with Hank Allworth - the stationmaster here." Jordan
held out his hand.

"You're an Earthman, eh?" Kennon asked as he grasped the
outstretched hand. The gesture was as old as man, its ritualistic
meaning lost in antiquity.

"No -- Marsborn -- a neighbor world," Jordan said. "But our
customs and Earth's are the same."

"You're a long way from home," Kennon said.

"No farther than you, Doc." Jordan looked uncomfortable. "But we
can compare origins later. Right now, you'd better come into the
office. I've run across something peculiar."

CHAPTER IX

"There are twelve bays to this station," Jordan said. "Under our
present setup two are used for breeding and the other ten for
maturation. We rotate the youngsters around the bay -- a
different bay each year until they're age eleven. Then they're
sorted according to type and sent out for a year of further
specialized training after which they go onto the farms, or to
inhouse or export.

"Now here's the peculiar part. There's no trouble in Bays One
through Nine, but Bay Ten has had all our losses except two that
have occurred at the training stations."

"That's good news," Kennon said. "Our parasite can't have had
time to migrate too far. We have him pinpointed unless -- say how
many training centers are there?"

"Three," Jordan said.

"Quarantine them," Kennon replied. "Right now. Nothing goes in or
out until we've checked them and completed prophylaxis."

Jordan looked at Blalok inquiringly.

"He's the boss," Blalok said. "Do as you're told. This is his
problem."

"Why the quarantine?" Jordan asked.

"I want to get any carriers. We can check them with antigen, and
then give Trematox."

"All that concentration in Bay Ten," Jordan said. "Does it mean
something?"

"Blalok said that there was a Santosian in your division."

"Yeah - Joe Kryla - and come to think of it, he ran Bay Ten!"

"That's a help - now let's see what makes that bay different from
the others."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you--but you may not understand," Kennon said.

"I'll take a chance."

Kennon grinned. "All right, you asked for it. The parasite that's
doing the damage is a flatworm, a trematode called Hepatodirus
hominis. As I've told Blalok, it's a tricky thing. Like all
trematodes it has a three-stage life cycle, but unlike every
other fluke, its life cycle is not fixed to definite intermediate
hosts. Depending upon where it is, the fluke adapts. It still
must pass through its life cycle, but its intermediate host need
not be one species of snail, fish, or copepod. Any cold-blooded
host will do. What you have here is a Kardonian variant which has
adapted to some particular intermediate host on this world. Until
now, its final host was either man or Varl. Now we have a third,
the Lani. And apparently they are the most susceptible of the
three. It never kills Varl. And humans, while they're more
susceptible, only occasionally succumb, but the Lani appear to be
the most susceptible of all. I've never seen an infestation like
those Lani had. Their livers were literally crawling with
flukes." Kennon paused and looked at Jordan. "You following me?"
he asked.

"Slowly and poorly," Jordan said. "You're assuming too much
knowledge on my part."

Kennon chuckled. "You can't say I didn't warn you."

"Well -- I'm really interested in only one thing - how do you
break the parasite up in business?"

"There's only one sure way -- and that's to break the life cycle.
The technique is thousands of years old, but it's just as good
today as it was then."

"Good -- then let's do it."

"To make a varrit stew," Kennon said, "one must first catch the
varrit."

"Huh?"

"We have to learn the beastie's life cycle before we can break
it, and like I said, it adapts. Its intermediate host can be any
one of a hundred cold-blooded animals."

"Is there no place else where it can be attacked?"

"Sure, in the body of the final host, or on its final encysting
place. But that won't eliminate the bug."

"Why not?"

"It'll still survive in its infective form and enough Lani will
get subacute dosage to propagate it until the time is right for
another epizootic. We have to kill its intermediate host -- or
hosts if it has more than one. That will keep it from growing and
will ultimately eradicate it."

Judson scratched his head. "It sounds complicated,"

"It is. It's so complicated that once the fluke becomes well
established it's virtually impossible to eradicate."

"And you think it can be done here?"

"We can give it the old college try. But it's going to take some
detective work."

"Where do we start?"

"With Bay Ten. We look it over real well. Then we check the diet
and habits of the Lani. Then we check each individual Lani. Then
we check the life cycle of the parasite. Somewhere along the line
if we're lucky we'll find a weak point that can be attacked."

"That's a big order," Blalok said.

"It can't be helped. That's the way it is. Of course, we're lucky
that we're on an isolated land mass. That gives us an advantage.
We should be able to clean this up."

"How long do you think it will take?"

"It depends on how well the fluke is established. Six months at
the minimum -- and I wouldn't care to guess at the maximum.
However, I hope the minimum will be time enough."

"So do I," Blalok said.

"Well," Kennon said, "let's get on with it."

"I hope it won't interrupt our program," Jordan said.

"Of course it will interrupt it," Kennon replied. "It can't help
it. Get the idea in your head that you're facing something here
that can cripple you -- maybe abort your whole operation. You
have a choice -- interrupt now or abort later. And half measures
won't work. To eradicate this pest requires an all-out effort."

"But I can't see why we can't merely bypass Bay Ten--" Jordan
said.

"Take my word for it," Kennon said. "You can't. There's no
accurate way of telling how far this spreads until the death
losses occur. Our tests for fluke infestation aren't that good.
We have to work thoroughly and carefully. We can't be butting
heads over this -- either we all co-operate or this whole
operation will blow up in our faces.

"Look at the record. Six months ago you ended a year with no
deaths from disease. Five months ago Old Doc and two Lani were
ill. Four months ago one of the two Lani was dead and Old Doc was
too ill to be effective. Three months ago Old Doc and the other
Lani were dead, and before the end of the month two more followed
them. Two months ago six died, last month eight, and so far this
month you've lost four and you have over two weeks to go. Up to
now they've all been from here, but two this month were at other
stations. In six months if nothing is done, we'll be having
losses there unless we're lucky. And the losses will keep on
increasing. Apparently you don't know what it is to live with
parasites - so let me tell you. It isn't pleasant!"

Blalok shrugged. "You needn't get hot about it," he said. "After
all, you're the Doc -- and we'll co-operate."

Jordan nodded. "We will," he said. "All the way."

CHAPTER X

There is a special providence that looks over recent veterinary
graduates, Kennon reflected as he checked the monthly reports
from the Stations. Since the time he had laid down the law to
Judson and Blalok, he had had no trouble from the production
staff. And for the past four months there had been no further
trouble with Hepatodirus. That unwanted visitor had apparently
been evicted. At that, they had been lucky. The parasite had been
concentrated at Hillside Station and had failed to establish
itself in the training area. The intermediate host, it had turned
out, was a small amphibian that was susceptible to commercial
insecticide. It had been no trouble to eradicate. Systemic
treatment and cooking of all food had cleaned up the infective
cercaria and individual infections, and after six months of
intensive search, quarantine, and investigation, Kennon was
morally certain that the disease had been eradicated. The last
four reports confirmed his belief.

He sighed as he leaned back in his chair. Blalok was at last
convinced that his ideas were right. The hospital was operating
as a hospital should, with a staff of twelve Lani kept busy
checking the full wards. Actually, it was working better than it
should, since stationmasters all over the island were now
shipping in sick animals rather than treating them or requesting
outpatient service.

"Hi, Doc," Blalok said as he pushed the door open and looked into
the office. "You doing anything?"

"Not at the moment," Kennon said. "Something troubling you?"

"No -- just thought I'd drop in for a moment and congratulate
you."

"For what?"

"For surviving the first year."

"That won't be for two months yet."

Blalok shook his head. "This is Kardon," he said. "There's only
three hundred and two days in our year, ten thirty-day months and
two special days at the year's end."

Kennon shrugged. "My contract is Galactic Standard. I still have
two months to go. But how come the ten-month year? Most other
planets have twelve, regardless of the number of days."

"Old Alexander liked thirty-day months."

"I've wondered about that."

"You'll find a lot more peculiar things about Flora when you get
to know her better. This year has just been a breaking-in
period."

Kennon chuckled. "It's damn near broken me," he admitted. "You
know, I thought that the Lani'd be my principal practice when I
came here."

"You didn't figure that right. They're the easiest part. They're
intelligent and co-operative."

"Which is more than one can say about the others." Kennon wiped
the sweat from his face. "What with this infernal heat and their
eternal stubbornness, I've nearly been driven crazy."

"You shouldn't have laid out that vaccination program."

"I had to. Your hog business was living mostly on luck, and the
sheep and shrakes were almost as bad. You can't get away from
soil saprophytes no matter how clean you are. Under a pasture
setup there's always a chance of contamination. And that old
cliche about an ounce of prevention is truer of livestock raising
than anything else I can think of."

"I have some more good news for you," Blalok said. "That's why I
came over. We're going to have another species to treat and
vaccinate."

Kennon groaned. "Now what?"

"Poultry." Blalok's voice was disgusted. "Personally I think it's
a mess, but Alexander thinks it's profitable. Someone's told him
that pound for pound chickens are the most efficient feed
converters of all the domestic animals. So we're getting a pilot
plant: eggs, incubator, and a knocked-down broiler battery so we
can try the idea out. The Boss-man is always hot on new ideas to
increase efficiency and production. The only trouble is that he
fails to consider the work involved in setting up another
operation."

"You're so right. I'll have to brush up on pullorum, ornithosis,
coccidosis, leukosis, perosis, and Ochsner knows how many other
-osises and -itises. I was never too strong on fowl practice in
school, and I'd be happier if I never had anything to do with
them."

"So would I," Blalok agreed. "I can't see anything in this but
trouble."

Kennon nodded.

"And he's forgotten something else," Blalok added. "Poultry need
concentrated feed. We're going to have to install a feed mill."

Kennon chuckled. "I hope he'll appreciate the bill he gets."

"He thinks we can use local labor," Blalok said gloomily. "I wish
he'd realize that Lani are technological morons."

"They could learn."

"I suppose so -- but it isn't easy. And besides, Allworth is the
only man with feed-mill experience, and he's up to his ears with
Hillside Station since that expansion order came in."

"I never did get the reason for that. After we complained about
the slavery implications and got the Boss-man's okay to hold the
line, why do we need more Lani?"

"Didn't you know? His sister's finally decided to try marriage.
Found herself some overmuscled Halsite who looked good to her --
but she couldn't crack his moral barrier." Blalok grinned. "I
thought you'd be the first to know. Wasn't she interested in
you?"

Kennon chuckled. "You could call it that. Interested -- like the
way a dog's interested in a beefsteak. It's a good thing we had
that fluke problem or I'd have been chewed up and digested long
ago. That woman frightens me."

"I could be scared by uglier things," Blalok said. "With the
Boss-man's sister on my side I wouldn't worry."

"What makes you think she'd be on my side? She's a cannibal."

"Well, you know her better than I do."

He did -- he certainly did. That first month had been one of the
worst he had ever spent, Kennon reflected. Between Eloise and the
flukes, he had nearly collapsed -- and when it had come to the
final showdown, he thought for a while that he'd be looking for
another job. But Alexander had been more than passably
understanding and had refused his sister's passionate pleas for a
Betan scalp. He owed a debt of gratitude to the Boss-man.

"You're lucky you never knew her," Kennon said.

"That all depends on what you mean," Blalok said as he grinned
and walked to the door. The parting shot missed its mark entirely
as Kennon looked at him with blank incomprehension. "You should
have been a Mystic," Blalok said. "A knowledge of the sacred
books would do you no end of good." And with that cryptic remark
the superintendent vanished.

"That had all the elements of a snide remark," Kennon murmured to
himself, "but my education's been neglected somewhere along the
line. I don't get it." He shrugged and buzzed for Copper. The
veterinary report would have to be added to the pile already
before him, and the Boss-man liked to have his reports on time.

Copper watched Kennon as he dictated the covering letter, her
slim fingers dancing over the stenotype. He had been here a full
year -- but instead of becoming a familiar object, he had grown
so gigantic that he filled her world. And it wasn't merely
because he was young and beautiful. He was kind, too.

Yet she couldn't approach him, and she wanted to so desperately
that it was a physical pain. Other Lani had told her about men
and what they could do. Even her old preceptress at Hillside
Station had given her some advice when Man Allworth had tattooed
the tiny V on her thigh that meant she had been selected for the
veterinary staff. And when Old Doc had brought her from the
Training Station to the hospital and removed her tail, she was
certain that she was one of the lucky ones who would know love.

But love wasn't a pain in the chest, an ache in the belly and
thighs, an unfulfilled longing that destroyed sleep and made food
tasteless. Love was supposed to be pleasant and exciting. She
could remember every word her preceptress had spoken.

"My little one," the old Lani had said, "you now wear the
doctor's mark. And soon no one will be able to tell you from a
human. You will look like our masters. You will share in their
work. And there may be times when you will find favor in their
eyes. Then you may learn of love.

"Love," the old voice was soft in Copper's ears. "The word is
almost a stranger to us now, known only to the few who serve our
masters. It was not always so. The Old Ones knew love before Man
Alexander came. And our young were the fruit of love rather than
the product of our masters' cunning. But you may know the flower
even though you cannot bear its fruit. You may enter that world
of pleasure-pain the Old Ones knew, that world which is now
denied us.

"But remember always that you are a Lani. A man may be kind to
you. He may treat you gently. He may show you love. Yet you never
will be his equal. Nor must you become too attached to him, for
you are not human. You are not his natural mate. You cannot bear
his young. You cannot completely share. You can only accept.

"So if love should come to you, take it and enjoy it, but do not
try to possess it. For there lies heartache rather than
happiness. And it is a world of heartache, my little one, to long
for something which you cannot have."

To long for something which one cannot have! Copper knew that
feeling. It had been with her ever since Kennon had come into her
life that night a year ago. And it had grown until it had become
gigantic. He was kind -- yes. He was harsh -- occasionally. Yet
he had shown her no more affection than he would have shown a
dog. Less -- for he would have petted a dog and he did not touch
her.

He laughed, but she was not a part of his laughter. He needed
her, but the need was that of a builder for a tool. He liked her
and sometimes shared his problems and triumphs with her, and
sometimes his defeats, but he did not love. There had never been
for her the bright fierce look he had bent upon the Woman Eloise
those times when she had come to him, the look men gave to those
who found favor in their eyes.

Had he looked at her but once with that expression she would have
come to him though fire barred the way. The Woman Eloise was a
fool.

Copper looked at him across the corner of the desk, the yellow
hair, the bronze skin, firm chin, soft lips and long straight
nose, the narrowed eyes, hooded beneath thick brows, scanning the
papers in his lean-tendoned hands. His nearness was an ache in
her body -- yet he was far away.

She thought of how his hands would feel upon her. He had touched
her once, and that touch had burned like hot iron. For hours she
had felt it. He looked up. Her heart choked her with its beating.
She would die for him if he would but once run his fingers over
her tingling skin, and stroke her hair.

The naked emotion in Copper's face was readable enough, Kennon
thought. One didn't need Sorovkin techniques to interpret what
was in her mind. And it would have been amusing if it weren't so
sad. For what she wanted, he couldn't give. Yet if she were human
it would be easy. A hundred generations of Betan moral code said
"never," yet when he looked at her their voices faded. He was a
man -- a member of the ruling race. She was an animal -- a beast
-- a humanoid -- near human but not near enough. To like her was
easy - but to love her was impossible. It would be bestiality.
Yet his body, less discerning than his mind, responded to her
nearness.

He sighed. It was a pleasant unpleasantness, a mixed emotion he
could not analyze. In a way it was poetry -- the fierce, vaguely
disquieting poetry of the sensual Santosian bards - the lyrics
that sung of the joys of flesh. He had never really liked them,
yet they filled him with a vague longing, an odd uneasiness --
just the sort that filled him now. There was a deadly parallel
here. He sighed.

"Yes, sir? Do you want something?" Copper asked.

"I could use a cup of coffee," he said. "These reports are
getting me down." The banality amused him -- sitting here
thinking of Copper and talking about coffee. Banality was at once
the curse and the saving grace of mankind. It kept men from the
emotional peaks and valleys that could destroy them. He chuckled
shakily. The only alternative would be to get rid of her -- and
he couldn't (or wouldn't? -- the question intruded slyly) do
that.

Copper returned with a steaming cup which she set before him.
Truly, this coffee was a man's drink. She had tried it once but
the hot bitterness scalded her mouth and flooded her body with
its heat. And she had felt so lightheaded. Not like herself at
all. It wasn't a drink for Lani. Of that she was certain.

Yet he enjoyed it. He looked at her and smiled. He was pleased
with her. Perhaps -- yet -- she might find favor in his eyes. The
hope was always there within her -- a hope that was at once fear
and prayer. And if she did -- she would know what to do.

Kennon looked up. Copper's face was convulsed with a bright
mixture of hope and pain. Never, he swore, had he saw anything
more beautiful or sad. Involuntarily he placed his hand upon her
arm. She flinched, her muscles tensing under his finger tips. It
was though his fingers carried a galvanic current that backlashed
up his arm even as it stiffened hers.

"What's the matter, Copper?" he asked softly.

"Nothing, Doctor. I'm just upset."

"Why?"

There it was again, the calm friendly curiosity that was worse
than a bath in ice water. Her heart sank. She shivered. She would
never find her desire here. He was cold -- cold- cold! He
wouldn't see. He didn't care. All right -- so that was how it had
to be. But first she would tell him. Then he could do with her as
he wished. "I hoped -- for the past year that you would see me.
That you would think of me not as a Lani, but as a beloved." The
words came faster now, tumbling over one another. "That you would
desire me and take me to those worlds we cannot know unless you
humans show us. I have hoped so much, but I suppose it's wrong -
for you -- you are so very human, and I -- well, I'm not!" The
last three words held all the sadness and the longing of mankind
aspiring to be God.

"My dear -- my poor child," Kennon murmured.

She looked at him, but her eyes could not focus on his face, for
his hands were on her shoulders and the nearness of him drove the
breath from her body. From a distance she heard a hard tight
voice that was her own. "Oh, sir -- oh please, sir!"

The hands withdrew, leaving emptiness -- but her heartbeat slowed
and the pink haze cleared and she could see his face.

And with a surge of terror and triumph she realized what she saw!
That hard bright look that encompassed and possessed her! The
curved lips drawn over white, white teeth! The flared nostrils!
The hungry demand upon his face that answered the demand in her
heart! And she knew -- at last - with a knowledge that turned her
limbs to water, that she had found favor in his eyes!

CHAPTER XI

Mixed emotion! Ha! The author of that cliche didn't even know its
meaning! Kennon strode furiously down the dusty road toward
Station One trying to sublimate his inner conflict into action.
It was useless, of course, for once he stopped moving the grim
tug-of-war between training and desire would begin again, and no
matter how it ended the result would be unsatisfactory. As long
as he had been able to delude himself that he was fond of Copper
the way a man is fond of some lesser species, it had been all
right. But he knew now that he was fond of her as a man is of a
woman -- and it was hell! For no rationalization in the universe
would allow him to define her as human. Copper was humanoid --
something like human. And to live with her and love her would not
be miscegenation, which was bad enough, but bestiality which was
a thousand times worse.

Although throughout most of the Brotherhood miscegenation was an
unknown word, and even bestiality had become a loose definition
on many worlds with humanoid populations, the words had definite
meaning and moral force to a Betan. And -- God help him -- he was
a Betan. A lifetime of training in a moral code that frowned upon
mixed marriages and shrank appalled from even the thought of
mixing species was nothing to bring face to face with the fact
that he loved Copper.

It was odd, Kennon reflected bitterly, that humans could do with
animals what their customs and codes prohibited them from doing
to themselves. For thousands of years - back to the very dawn of
history when men had bred horses and asses to produce mules --
men had been mixing species to produce useful hybrids. Yet a
Betan who could hybridize plants or animals with complete
equanimity shrank with horror from the thought of applying the
same technique to himself.

What was there about a human being that was so sacrosanct? He
shook his head angrily. He didn't know. There was no answer. But
the idea -- the belief -- was there, ingrained into his
attitudes, a part of his outlook, built carefully block by block
from infancy until it now towered into a mighty wall that barred
him from doing what he wished to do.

It would be an easier hurdle if he had been born anywhere except
on Beta. In the rest of the Brotherhood, the color of a man's
skin, the shape of his face, the quality and color of his hair
and eyes made no difference. All men were brothers. But on Beta,
where a variant-G sun had already caused genetic divergence, the
brotherhood of man was a term that was merely given lip service.
Betans were different and from birth they were taught to accept
the difference and to live with it. Mixing of Betan stock with
other human species, while not actually forbidden, was so
encircled with conditioning that it was a rare Betan indeed who
would risk self-opprobrium and the contempt of his fellows to
mate with an outsider. And as for humanoids -- Kennon shuddered.
He couldn't break the attitudes of a lifetime. Yet he loved
Copper.

And she knew he did!

And that was an even greater horror. He had fled from the office,
from the glad light in her eyes, as a burned child flees fire. He
needed time to think, time to plan. Yet his body and his surface
thoughts wanted no plans or time. Living with a Lani wasn't
frowned upon on Flora. Many of the staff did, nor did anyone seem
to think less of them for doing so. Even Alexander himself had
half-confessed to a more than platonic affection for a Lani
called Susy.

Yet this was no excuse, nor would it silence the cold still voice
in his mind that kept repeating sodomite -- sodomite -- sodomite
with a passionless inflection that was even more terrible than
anger.

The five kilometers to Station One disappeared unnoticed beneath
his feet as he walked, and he looked up in surprise to see the
white walls and red roofs of the station looming before him.

"Good Lord! Doc! What's got into you?" the stationmaster said.
"You look like you'd seen a ghost. And out in this sun without a
helmet! Come inside, man, before you get sunstroke!"

Kennon chuckled without humor. "Getting sunstroke is the least of
my worries, Al," he said, but he allowed Al Crothers to usher him
inside.

"It's odd that you showed up right now," Al said, his dark face
showing the curiosity that filled him. "I just had a call from
Message Center not five minutes ago, telling me to have you call
in if you showed up."


Kennon sighed. "On this island you can't get away from the
phone," he said wryly. "O.K., where is it?"

"You look pretty bushed, Doc. Maybe you'd better rest awhile."

"And maybe it's an emergency," Kennon interrupted. "And probably
it is because the staff can handle routine matters -- so maybe
you'd better show me where you keep the phone."

* * *

"One moment please," the Message Center operator said. There were
a few clicks in the background. "Here's your party," she
continued. "Go ahead, Doctor."

"Kennon?" a nervous voice crackled from the receiver.

"Yes?"

"You're needed out on Otpen One."

"Who is calling -- and what's the rush?"

"Douglas -- Douglas Alexander. The Lani are dying! It's an
emergency! Cousin Alex'll skin us alive if we let these Lani
die!"

Douglas! Kennon hadn't thought of him since the one time they had
met in Alexandria. That was a year ago. It seemed much longer.
Since the Boss-man had exiled his cousin to that bleak rock to
the east of Flora there had been no word of him. And now -- he
laughed a sharp bark of humorless annoyance -- Douglas couldn't
have timed it better if he had tried!

"All right," Kennon said. "I'll come. What seems to be the
trouble?"

"They're sick."

"That's obvious," Kennon snapped. "Otherwise you wouldn't be
calling. Can't you tell me any more than that?"

"They're vomiting. They have diarrhea. Several have had fits."

"Thanks," Kennon said. "I'll be right out. Expect me in an hour."

"So you're leaving?" Al asked as he cradled the phone.

"That's a practitioner's life," Kennon said. "Full of
interruptions. Can I borrow your jeep?"

"I'll drive you. Where do you want to go?"

"To the hospital," Kennon said. "I'll have to pick up my gear.
It's an emergency all right."

"You're a tough one," Al said admiringly. "I'd hate to walk five
kilos in this heat without a hat -- and then go out on a call."

Kennon shrugged. "It's not necessarily toughness. I believe in
doing one job at a time -- and my contract reads veterinary
service, not personal problems. The job comes first and there's
work to do."

Copper wasn't in sight when Kennon came back to the hospital -- a
fact for which he was grateful. He packed quickly, threw his bags
into the jeep, and took off with almost guilty haste. He'd
contact the Hospital from the Otpens. Right now all he wanted was
to put distance between himself and Copper. Absence might make
the heart grow fonder, but at the moment propinquity was by far
the more dangerous thing. He pointed the blunt nose of the jeep
toward Mount Olympus, set the autopilot, opened the throttle, and
relaxed as best he could as the little vehicle sped at top speed
for the outer islands. A vague curiosity filled him. He'd never
been on the Otpens. He wondered what they were like.

* * *

Otpen One was a rocky tree-clad islet crowned with the stellate
mass of a Class II Fortalice. But this one wasn't like
Alexandria. It was fully manned and in service condition.

"Airboat!" a voice crackled from the dashboard speaker of the
jeep, "Identify yourself! You are being tracked."

Kennon quickly flipped the IFF switch. "Dr. Kennon, from Flora,"
he said.

"Thank you, sir. You are expected and are clear to land. Bring
your vehicle down in the marked area." A section of the roof
turned a garish yellow as Kennon circled the building. He brought
the jeep in lightly, setting it carefully in the center of the
area.

"Leave your vehicle," the speaker chattered. "If you are armed
leave your weapon behind."

"It's not my habit to carry a gun," Kennon snapped.

"Sorry, sir -- regulations," the speaker said. '"This is S.O.P."

Kennon left the jeep and instantly felt the probing tingle of a
search beam. He looked around curiously at the flat roof of the
fortress with its domed turrets and ugly snouts of the main
battery projectors pointing skyward. Beside him, the long metal
doors of a missile launcher made a rectangular trace on the
smooth surface of the roof. Behind him the central tower poked
its gaunt ferromorph and durilium outline into the darkening sky
bearing its crown of spiderweb radar antennae turning steadily on
their gimbals covering a vast hemisphere from horizon to zenith
with endless inspection.

From the base of the tower a man emerged. He was tall, taller
even than Kennon, and the muscles of his body showed through the
tightness of his battle dress. His face was harsh, and in his
hands he carried a Burkholtz magnum -- the most powerful portable
weapon mankind had yet devised.

"You are Dr. Kennon?" the trooper asked.

"I am."

"Your I.D., please."

Kennon handed it over and the big man scanned the card with
practiced eyes. "Check," he said. "Follow me, sir."

"My bags," Kennon said.

"They'll be taken care of."

Kennon shrugged and followed the man into the tower. A modern
grav-shaft lowered them to the ground floor. They passed through
a gloomy caricature of the Great Hall in Alexandria, through an
iris, and down a long corridor lined with doors.

A bell rang.

"Back!" the trooper said. "Against the wall! Quick! Into the
doorway!"

"What's up?"

"Another practice alert." The trooper's voice was bored. "It gets
so that you'd almost wish for a fight to relieve the monotony."

A trooper and several Lani came down the corridor, running in
disciplined formation. Steel clanged on steel as they turned the
corner and moments later the whine of servos came faintly to
their ears. From somewhere deep in the pile a rising crescendo of
generators under full battle load sent out vibrations that could
be sensed rather than heard. A klaxon squawked briefly. There was
another clash of metal, and a harsh voice boomed through the
corridors. "Fourteen seconds. Well done. Secure stations!"

The trooper grinned. "That ties the record," he said. "We can go
now."

The corridor ended abruptly at an iris flanked by two sentries.
They conferred briefly with Kennon's guide, dilated the iris, and
motioned for Kennon to enter. The pastel interior of the modern
office was a shocking contrast to the gray ferromorph corridors
outside.

Douglas Alexander was standing behind the desk. He was much the
same. His pudgy face was haggard with uncertainty and his eyes
darted back and forth as his fingers caressed the knobby grip of
a small Burkholtz jutting from a holster at his waist. There were
new, unpleasant furrows between his eyes. He looked older and the
indefinable air of cruelty was more pronounced. He had been
frightened the last time Kennon had seen him, and he was
frightened now.

"I'm not sure whether I am glad to see you, Kennon," he said
uncertainly. "But I suppose I have to be."

Kennon believed him.

"How have you been?" Kennon asked.

"Not too bad until this afternoon. Things have been going pretty
well." He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. "I
suppose Cousin Alex will skin me for this, but there's nothing
else I can do." He licked his lips. "You've been here long enough
-- and you'll have to know eventually." He fidgeted and finally
sat down behind the desk. "We have trouble. Half the Lani were
stricken about four hours ago. It was sudden. No warning at all.
And if they die----" his voice trailed off.

"Well -- what are we waiting for? Get someone to bring my bags
down here and we'll look them over."

"Do you have to? -- Can't you prescribe something?"

"How? I haven't examined the patients."

"I can tell you what's wrong."

Kennon smiled. "I hardly think that's the way to do it. Even
though your description might be accurate, you still might miss
something of critical importance."

Douglas sighed. "I thought that's what you'd say," he said. "Oh
-- very well -- you might as well see what we have out here."

"You can't possibly believe that I don't already know," Kennon
said. "You have male Lani."

Douglas looked at him, his face blank with surprise. "But -- how
did you know? No one on the main island does except the Family.
And we never talk about it. Did Eloise tell you? I noticed she
was struck with you the day you came, and the Lani who have come
out here since have been talking about you two. Did she do it?"

Kennon shook his head. "She never said a word."

"Then how----"

"I'm not stupid," Kennon said. "That story you've spread about
artificial fertilization has more holes in it than a sieve. That
technique has been investigated a thousand times. And it has
never worked past the first generation. If you had been using it,
the Lani would long ago have been extinct. Haploids don't
reproduce, and the only way the diploid number of chromosomes can
be kept is to replace those lost by maturation division of the
ovum. You might be able to keep the diploid number by using
immature ova, but the fertilization technique would be far more
complex than the simple uterine injections you use at Hillside
Station."

Douglas looked at him blankly.

"Besides," Kennon added, "I have a microscope. I checked your
so-called fertilizing solution. I found spermatozoa, and
spermatozoa only come from males. What's more, the males have to
be the same species as the females or fertilization will not take
place. So there must be male Lani. Nothing else fits. You've been
using artificial insemination on the main-island Lani. And from
the way this place is guarded, it's obvious that here is your
stud farm."

Douglas shrugged and spread his hands in a gesture of
resignation. "I suppose," he said, "that's the way Old Doc found
out too. We never told him, but he knew before he ever came out
here."

"The only thing that puzzles me," Kennon went on, "is how you
managed to eliminate the Y-chromosome carriers within the sperm."

"Eh?"

"The male sex-determinant. Half the sperm carry it, but so far as
I know, there's never been a male born on the main island."

"Oh -- that. It's something that's done in the labs here.
Probably one of the technicians could tell you. It's called
electro-- electro freezing or something like that."

"Electrodiaphoresis?"

Douglas nodded. "That sounds like it. I don't know anything about
it. One of Grandfather's men did the basic work. We just follow
instructions." He shrugged. "Well - since you know the secret
there's no sense in hiding the bodies. Come along and tell me
what's wrong."

It was a peculiar feeling to walk down the row of cubical rooms
with their barred doors. The whole area reminded him of a
historical novel, of the prisons of early human history where men
confined other men for infractions of social customs. The
grimness of the place was appalling. The male Lani -- impressive
in their physical development -- were in miserable condition,
nauseated, green-faced, retching. The sickening odors of vomit
and diarrhea hung heavily on the air. Douglas coughed and held a
square of cloth to his face, and even Kennon, strong-stomached as
he was, could feel his viscera twitch in sympathy with the caged
sufferers.

"Great Fleming, man!" Kennon exploded. "You can't keep them here.
Get them out! Give them some fresh air! This place would make a
well man sick."

Douglas looked at him, "I wouldn't take one of them out unless I
had him shackled and there was an armed guard to help me. Those
males are the most vicious, cunning, and dangerous animals on
Kardon. They exist with but one thought in mind -- to kill!"

Kennon looked curiously through a barred door at one of the Lani.
He lay on a bare cot, a magnificently muscled figure with a
ragged black beard hiding his face. There were dozens of scars on
his body and one angry purple area on his thick right forearm
where flesh had been torn away not too long ago. Beads of sweat
stood out on his forehead and soft moaning noises came from his
tight lips as he pressed his abdomen with thick-fingered hands.
"He doesn't look so dangerous," Kennon said.

"Watch it!" Douglas warned. "Don't get too close!" But the
warning was too late. Kennon touched the bars, and as he did, the
Lani moved with fluid speed, one huge hand clutching Kennon's
sleeve and pulling him against the bars while the other darted
for his throat. Fingers bit into Kennon's neck and tightened in a
viselike grip. Kennon reacted automatically. His arms came up
inside the Lani's and crashed down, elbows out, tearing the Lani
loose. He jumped back, rubbing his bruised throat. "That fellow's
not sick!" he gasped. "He's crazy!"

The Lani glared at him through the bars, disappointment written
on his scarred and bearded face.

"I warned you," Douglas said. His voice held an undertone of
malicious laughter. "He must be sick or he would have killed you.
George is clever in a stupid sort of way."

Kennon looked into the cubicle. The Lani glared back and growled.
There was a beastlike note in his voice that made the short hairs
on Kennon's neck prickle.

"That fellow needs a lesson," he said.

"You want to give it to him?" Douglas asked.

"Not particularly."

"Ha! -- man! -- you afraid!" the Lani taunted. His voice was
thick and harsh. "All men fear me. All Lani, too. I am boss. Come
close again man and I kill you!"

"Are they all that stupid?" Kennon asked. "He sounds like a
homicidal moron."

"He's not stupid," Douglas said. "Just uneducated."

"Why is he so murderous?"

"That's his training. All his life he has fought. From childhood
his life has been based on his ability to survive in an
environment where every male is his enemy. You see here the
sublimation of individuality. He cannot co-operate with another
male. He hates them, and they in turn hate him. George, here, is
a perfect example of absolute freedom from restraint." Douglas
smiled unpleasantly.

"His whole history is one of complete lack of control. As an
infant, being a male, his mother thought she was favored by the
gods and she denied him nothing. In fact we were quite insistent
that she gave him everything he wanted. By the time he was able
to walk and take care of himself, he was completely spoiled,
selfish, and authoritative.

"Then we took him and a dozen others exactly like him and put
them together." Douglas grinned. "You should see what happens
when a dozen spoiled brats are forced to live together. It's more
fun. The little beasts hate each other on sight. And we stimulate
them to compete for toys, food, and drink. Never quite enough to
go around. You can imagine what happens. Instead of sharing, each
little selfish individualist fights to get everything he can
grab. Except for one thing we don't punish them no matter what
they do. If anyone shows signs of co-operating he is disciplined
severely, the first time. The next time, he is culled. But other
than that, we leave them alone. They develop their personalities
and their muscles -- and if one proves to be too much for his
fellows we transfer him to a more advanced class where the
competition is keener, and he learns what it is to lose.

"At puberty we add sex drive to the basics, and by the time our
male reaches maturity we have something like George. Actually,
George is more mature than either you or I. He has all the
answers he needs. He's strong, solitary, authoritative, and
selfish. He has no curiosity and resents encroachment. He's a
complete individualist. If he proves out he should make an
excellent sire."

"But isn't he dangerous to handle?" Kennon asked.

"Yes, but we take precautions."

Kennon grimaced with distaste.

"Look at it objectively," Douglas said. "We're trying to select
the best physical type we can in the hope that he'll pass his
qualities to his offspring, and there's no better practical way
to select the strongest and hardiest than by natural selection.
We control their environment as little as possible and let Nature
do our educating until they're old enough to be useful.

"Naturally, there are some things which we cannot provide, such
as exposure to disease, to the elements, and to predators. The
one isn't selective about whom it infects, while the others would
tend to produce co-operation as a matter of survival."

"Isn't there a great deal of mortality under such a regimen?''
Kennon asked.

"Not as much as you might expect. It's about twenty per cent. And
there is a great deal of compensation from a management
viewpoint. We get essentially the same physical end product as we
would from a closely managed operation, plus a great saving in
labor. Males, you see, are fairly expendable. We only need a few
a year."

"It's brutal."

"So it is, but life is brutal. Still, it's efficient for our
purposes. We merely take advantage of natural impulses to produce
a better product. Grandfather got the idea out of an old book --
something about the noble savage, natural selection and survival
of the fittest. He thought it was great - said there was nothing
like relentless competition to bring out the strongest and
hardiest types. And he's been right for centuries. Can you
imagine anything much better than George -- from a physical
viewpoint?"

"He is a magnificent animal," Kennon admitted as he eyed the
Lani. "But it seems to me that you could train some obedience
into him."

Douglas shook his head. "That would introduce a modifying factor,
something bigger and more powerful than the male himself. And
that would modify the results. We can control them well enough
with knockout gas and shackles. And those things, oddly enough,
don't destroy their pride or self-esteem. They think that we use
them because we are afraid, and it satisfies their egos."

Kennon eyed the caged Lani dubiously. "This is going to be
difficult. I must examine them and treat them, but if they're all
as homicidal as this one--"

"You fight me man," George interrupted, his face twisted into
lines of transparent guile. "I am boss and others do as I say.
You beat me, then you are boss."

"Is this true?" Kennon asked.

"Oh, it's true enough," Douglas said. "George is the leader and
if you beat him you'd be top male until some other one got
courage enough to challenge you. But he's just trying to get his
hands on you. He'd like to kill."

Kennon looked at the big humanoid appraisingly. George was huge,
at least five centimeters taller and fifteen kilograms heavier
than himself. And he was all muscle. "I don't think I'd care to
accept that challenge unless I was forced to," Kennon said.

Douglas chuckled. "I don't blame you."

Kennon sighed. "It looks like we are going to need reinforcements
to get these brutes under control. I'm not going in there with
them, and I can't examine them from out here."

"Oh, we can hold them all right. Paralysis gas and shackles will
keep them quiet. There's no need to bother the troopers. We can
handle this by ourselves."

Kennon shrugged. "It's your baby. You should know what you're
doing."

"I do," Douglas said confidently. "Wait here until I get the gas
capsules and the equipment.'' He turned and walked back to the
entrance to the cell block. At the iris he turned. "Be careful,"
he said.

"Don't worry, I will." Kennon looked at George through the bars
and the humanoid glared back, his eyes bright with hatred. Kennon
felt the short hairs prickle along the back of his neck. George
roused a primal emotion -- an elemental dislike that was deeper
than reason -- an antagonism intensely physical, almost
overpowering -- a purely adrenal response that had no business in
the make-up of a civilized human.

He had thought the Lani had a number of human traits until he had
encountered George. But if George was a typical male -- then the
Lani were alien. He flexed his muscles and stared coldly into the
burning blue eyes behind the bars. There would be considerable
satisfaction in beating this monstrosity to a quivering pulp.
Millennia of human pre-eminence -- of belief that nothing, no
matter how big or muscular, should fail to recognize that a man's
person was inviolate -- fed the fuel of his anger. The most
ferocious beasts on ten thousand worlds had learned this lesson.
And yet this animal had laid hands on him with intent to kill. A
cold corner of his mind kept telling him that he wasn't behaving
rationally, but he disregarded it. George was a walking need for
a lesson in manners.

"Don't get the idea that I'm afraid of you -- you overmuscled
oaf," Kennon snapped. "I can handle you or anyone like you. And
if you put your hands on me again I'll beat you within an inch of
your worthless life."

The Lani snarled. "Let me out and I kill you. But you are like
all men. You use gun and iron -- not fair fight."

Douglas returned with a gas capsule and a set of shackles. "All
right," he said. "We're ready for him." He handed Kennon the
shackles and a key to the cell door -- and drew his Burkholtz.

"See," the Lani growled. "It is as I say. Men are cowards."

"You know gun?" Douglas asked as he pointed the muzzle of the
Burkholtz at the Lani.

"I know," George growled. "Gun kill."

"It does indeed," Douglas said. "Now get back -- clear back
against the wall."

George snarled but didn't move.

"I'll count three," Douglas said, "and if you're not back by then
I'll burn you down. You'll obey even if you won't do anything
else. -- one -- two--"

George retreated to the far end of his cell.

"Now face the wall." Douglas tossed the gas capsule into the
cell. The thin-walled container broke, releasing a cloud of
vapor. George crumpled to the floor. "Now we wait a couple of
minutes for the gas to dissipate," Douglas said. "After that he's
all yours. You can go in and put the irons on him."

"Will he be out long?" Kennon asked.

"About five minutes. After that he'll have muscular control."
Douglas chuckled. "They're stupid," he said. "They know what gas
does to them, but they never have sense enough to hold their
breath. They could be twice as much trouble as they are. All
right, it's safe to go in now." Douglas let the gun dangle in his
hand.

Kennon unlocked the door.

And George rolled over, muscles bunched and driving! He hit the
door with such force that Kennon was slammed against the wall,
dazed -- half stunned by the speed of the attack. George -- he
had time to think in one brief flash -- wasn't stupid. He had
held his breath for the necessary two minutes!

Douglas jerked the blaster up and fired, but his target was too
quick. George dropped and rolled. The sizzling streak of violet
flashed inches above his body and tore a six-inch hole through
the back of the cell. And then George was on him! The huge,
marvelously fast hands of the humanoid wrenched the blaster out
of Douglas's hands and jerked him forward. A scream burst from
Douglas as George's hands closed around his neck. Muscles sprang
into writhing life in the humanoid's huge forearms. There was a
soft, brittle crack, and Douglas sagged limp in the iron grip
that held him dangling.

"Faugh!" George grunted. He dropped Douglas as Kennon pushed the
door back and came out into the passageway. "Maybe you make
better fight," George said as he lowered his head into the
muscular mass of his broad shoulders.

Kennon eyed him appraisingly, swinging the irons in his right
hand.

This time the Lani didn't charge. He moved slowly, half crouched,
long arms held slightly forward. Kennon backed away, watching the
humanoid's eyes for that telltale flicker of the pupils that
gives warning of attack. The expression on George's face never
changed. It was satisfied -- smug almost -- reflecting the
feelings of a brute conditioned to kill and given an opportunity
to do so. The Lani radiated confidence.

Kennon shivered involuntarily. He wasn't frightened, but he had
never met an opponent like this. A chill raced up the back of his
legs and spread over his stomach and chest. His mouth was dry and
his muscles quivered with tense anticipation. But his
concentration never wavered. His hard blue eyes never left
George's, searching with microscopic intentness for the faintest
sign of the Lani's intentions.

George charged -- hands reaching for Kennon's throat, face
twisted in a snarl of rage and hate. But even as he charged
Kennon moved. He ducked beneath the Lani's outstretched hands and
drove his left fist deep into George's belly just below the
breastbone.

Air whistled out of the Lani's gaping mouth as he bent double
from the power of the blow. Kennon clipped him on the chin with a
driving knee, snapping George's head back and smashed the bearded
face with the shackles. Blood spurted and George screamed with
rage. One of the Lani's big hands wrapped around the shackles and
tugged. Kennon let go and drove another left to George's ribs.

The Lani threw the irons at Kennon, but his aim was poor. One of
the handcuff rings scraped across Kennon's cheek, but did nothing
more than break the skin. Half paralyzed by the blows to his
solar plexus, George's co-ordination was badly impaired. But he
kept trying. Kennon wrapped lean fingers about one of George's
outstretched hands, bent, pivoted, and slammed the Lani with
bone-crushing force against the bars of a nearby cell. But George
didn't go down. "He's more brute than man," Kennon thought. "No
man could take a beating like that!" He moved aside from George's
stumbling rush, feeling a twinge of pity for the battered
humanoid. It was no contest. Strong as he was, George didn't know
the rudiments of hand-to-hand fighting. His reactions were those
of an animal, to close, clutch, bite, and tear. Even if he were
completely well, the results would have been the same. It would
merely have taken longer. Kennon drove a vicious judo chop to the
junction of the Lani's neck and shoulder. Brute strength was no
match for the highly evolved mayhem that every spaceman learns as
a necessary part of his trade. George had never been on planet
leave in a spaceport town. He knew nothing about the dives, the
crimps, the hostile port police. His idea of fighting was that of
a beast, but Kennon was a civilized man to whom fighting was an
art perfected by millennia of warfare. And Kennon knew his trade.

Even so it took longer than Kennon expected because George was
big, George was strong, and George had courage and pride that
kept him coming as long as the blazing will behind his blazing
eyes could drive his battered body. But the end was inevitable.

Kennon looked at his bloody arm where George's teeth had reached
their mark. It was hardly more than a scratch, but it had been
close. George had his lesson and Kennon felt oddly degraded. He
sighed, dragged George back into the cell, and locked the door.

Then he turned to Douglas. The howls of hate from the caged Lani
died to a sullen silence as Kennon gently examined the limp body.

Douglas wasn't dead. His neck was dislocated, not broken, but he
was in serious condition. Kennon was still bending over Douglas
wondering how to call for help when three guards burst through
the door, faces grim, weapons at the ready.

"What's going on here?" the leader demanded. "The board showed an
open door down here." He saw the body-- "Mr. Douglas!" he gasped.
"The commandant will have to know about this!" He took a
communicator from his waist belt and spoke rapidly into it.
"Arleson in stud cell block," he said. "Attempted escape. One
casualty -- Douglas Alexander - yes, that's right. No -- he's not
dead. Send a litter and bearers. Inform the commandant. I am
making investigation on the spot. Out." He turned to look coldly
at Kennon.

"Who are you--and what happened here?" he asked.

Kennon told him.

"You mean you took George!" Arleson said.

"Look in his cell if you don't believe me."

The soldier looked and then turned hack to Kennon. There was awed
respect in his hard brown eyes. "You did that! -- to him! Man,
you're a fighter," he said in an unbelieving voice.

A stretcher detail manned by two sober-faced Lani females came
in, loaded Douglas's body on the stretcher, and silently bore it
away.

"Douglas was a fool," Arleson said. "He knew we never handle this
kind without maximum restraint. I wonder why he did it?"

"I couldn't say. He told me that gas and shackles would hold
him."

"He knew better. These Lani know gas capsules. All George bad to
do was hold his breath. In that cell George would have killed
you. You couldn't have stayed away from him."

Kennon shrugged. Maybe that was what Douglas had wanted. Kennon
sighed. He didn't have the answer. And it could just be that
Douglas had tried to show off. Well, he would pay for it. He'd
have a stiff neck for months, and perhaps that was a proper way
to end it.

* * *

Commander Mullins, a thin gray-faced man with the hard cold eyes
of a professional soldier, came into the corridor followed by
another trooper.

His eyes took in the wreckage that had been George, the split
lips, the smashed nose, the puffed eyes, the cuts and bruises,
and then raked across Kennon.

"Spaceman -- hey?" he asked. "I've seen work like that before."

Kennon nodded. "I was once. I'm station veterinarian now. Douglas
called me over -- said it was an emergency."

Mullins nodded.

"Well -- why aren't you tending to it?"

"I have to examine them," Kennon said gesturing at the cells.
"And I don't want any more trouble like this."

"Don't worry. You won't have it. Now that you've beaten George,
you'll have no trouble at all. You're top dog." Mullins gestured
at the cages. "They'll be good for a while. Now you'd better get
on with your work. There's been enough disruption of routine for
today. The men will help you."

* * *

Kennon checked in at the commandant's office before he left for
the main island.

"How is Douglas?" he asked.

"He's alive," Mullins said. "We flew him to Albertsville - and
good riddance. How are the Lani?"

"They'll be all right," Kennon said. "It's just food poisoning. I
suggest you check your kitchen and your food handlers. There's a
break in sanitation that could incapacitate your whole command. I
found a few things wrong but there are probably more."

"I'll check on it -- and thanks for the advice," Mullins said.
"Sit down, Doctor. Your airboat won't be serviced for another few
minutes. Tell me how things are on the main island. How's
Blalok?"

"You know him?"

"Of course. I used to be a frequent visitor there. But with that
young pup here, I couldn't leave. I didn't dare to. He'd have
disrupted routine in a single day. Look what he did in half an
hour. Frankly, I owe you a debt for getting him off my hands."
Mullins chuckled dryly.

"That's a fine thing to say," Kennon grinned. "But I can
sympathize. It took us two months to straighten out Alexandria
after the Boss-man sent him here."

"I heard about that."

"Well -- we're under control now. Things are going pretty
smoothly."

"They'll be better here," Mullins said. "Now that Douglas is
gone." He shrugged. "I hope the Boss doesn't send him back. He's
hard to handle and he makes discipline a problem."

"Could you tell me--or would it be violating security?" Kennon
said. "Why do you have a Class II installation on full war
footing out here?"

Mullins chuckled. It's no secret," he said. "There was a
commercial raid on this place about fifty years ago. Seems as
though one of our competitors didn't like us. Alexandria was on a
war footing then and managed to hold them off. But it scared the
Old Man. You see, our competitive position is based on Lani
labor. Our competitors didn't know that. Their intelligence
wasn't so good. Up until that time, we'd  been keeping the males
out here in what was hardly more than a stockade. Those people
could have taken a few dozen  females and a couple of males and
they'd have been in business. But they didn't know. They tried to
smash Alexandria instead. Naturally they didn't have a chance.
And after it was over the Old Man got smart. He still had the
tapes for Alexandria so he built a duplicate out here and spent a
few millions on modern armament. The way we're set now it'd take
a battle group to hurt us.''

"But how about security? Don't the others know about the Lani
now?"

"It's a moot question. But it won't do them any good. They can't
crack this place, and without males, all the females on Flora
wouldn't do them enough long-term good to pay for the force
they'd need to be successful."

"So that's why the males are isolated."

"There's another reason -- two of them in fact. One is physical.
Even the best male is a dangerous beast. They have a flair for
violence that makes them useless as labor and their training
doesn't help matters. And the other is mental. The females on the
main island believe that we humans are responsible for the
continuation of their breed. This tends to keep them in line. We
have a great deal more trouble with them out here once they know
the truth. We've had a number of cases of females trying to
engineer a male's escape. But they're never repeated," Mullins
said grimly. "Actually, it would be an interesting life out here,
except for the abattoir." He grimaced. "That's an unpleasant
chore."

"You mean--" Kennon said.

"Why, certainly. What else could we do with senile animals?"

"But that's murder!"

Mullins shook his head. "No more than killing a cow for beef."

"You know," Kennon said, "I've never thought of what happened to
aged Lani. Sure, I've never seen one, but -- Lord Lister! -- I'm
a fool."

"You'll get used to the idea," Mullins said. "They aren't human,
and except for a few, they aren't as intelligent as a Santosian
Varl. I know that they look like us except for those tails, but
that's as far as it goes. I've spent two hundred years with them
and I know what I'm talking about."

"That's what Alexander says."

"He should know. He's lived with them all his life."

"Well -- perhaps. But I'm not convinced."

"Neither was Old Doc -- not until the day he died."

"Did he change then?"

"I don't know. I wasn't there. But Old Doc was a stubborn cuss."

Kennon stood up. "I've given instructions for treatment to your
corpsman," he said. "Now I think I'd better be getting back. I
have some reports to finish."

Mullins smiled grimly. "You know," he said, "I get the feeling
that you don't approve of this operation."

"Frankly, I don't," Kennon said, "but I signed a contract." He
turned toward the door and gestured to the two Lani who waited
outside with his bags. "I can find my way to the roof," he said.

"Well -- good luck," Mullins said. "We'll call you again if we
need you."

"Do that," Kennon replied. He wanted to leave, to get away from
this place and back to the main island. He wanted to see Copper.
He'd be damned if anyone was going to butcher her. If he had to
stay here until she died of old age, he'd do it. But nobody was
going to hurt her.

CHAPTER XII

Kennon wondered if his colleagues in human medicine felt toward
their patients as he did toward the Lani, or if they ultimately
lost their individuality and became mere hosts for diseases,
parasites, and tumors -- vehicles for the practice of surgical
and medical skills -- economic units whose well-being meant a
certain amount of credits. Probably not, he decided. They were
human and their very humanity made them persons rather than
things.

But the possession of individuality was not an asset in the
practice of animal medicine where economics was the main factor
and the satisfaction of the owner the principal personality
problem. The normal farm animals, the shrakes, cattle, sheep,
morks, and swine were no problem. They were merely a job. But the
Lani were different. They weren't human, but they were
intelligent and they did have personality even though they didn't
possess that indefinable quality that separated man from the
beasts. It was hard to treat them with dispassionate objectivity.
In fact, it was impossible.

And this lack of objectivity annoyed him. Should he be this way?
Was he right to identify them as individuals and treat them as
persons rather than things? The passing months had failed to rob
them of their personalities: they had not become the faceless
mass of a herd of cattle or a flock of sheep. They were still not
essentially different from humans -- and wouldn't men themselves
lose many of their human characteristics if they were herded into
barracks and treated as property for forty generations? Wouldn't
men, too, approach the animal condition if they were bred and
treated as beasts, their pedigrees recorded, their types winnowed
and selected? The thought was annoying.

It would be better, Kennon reflected, if he didn't have time to
think, if he were so busy he could drop to his bed exhausted each
night and sleep without dreaming, if he could keep on the run so
fast that he wouldn't have time to sit and reflect. But he had
done his work too well. He had trained his staff too thoroughly.
They could handle the petty routines of minor treatment and
laboratory tests as well as he. He had only the intellectual
stimulation of atypical cases and these were all too rare. The
routine inspections were boring, yet he forced himself to make
them because the filled the time. The hospital wards were
virtually empty of patients, the work was up to date, the whole
island was enjoying a carnival of health, and Kennon was still
impaled upon the horns of his dilemma. It wasn't so bad now that
the first shock was over, but it was bad enough -- and showed no
signs of getting better. Now that Copper realized he wanted her,
she did nothing to make his life easier. Instead she did her best
to get underfoot, usually in some provocative position. It was
enough to try the patience of a marble statue Kennon reflected
grimly. But it did have its humorous side and were it not for the
fact that Copper wasn't human could have been thoroughly
enjoyable. That, however, was the real hell of it. He couldn't
relax and enjoy the contest - his feet were on too slippery
ground. And Copper with her unerring female instinct knew just
what to do to make the footing slipperier. Sooner or later, she
was certain that he would fall. It was only a question of
applying sufficient pressure at the right spot and the right
time. Now that she knew he desired her, she was content to wait.
The only thing that had bothered her was the uncertainty whether
he cared or not. For Copper the future was a simple thing and she
was lighthearted about it. But not so Kennon. Even after the
initial shock had passed there still remained the moral customs,
the conditioning, and the prohibitions. But Copper - was Copper
-- and somehow the conditioning lost its force in her presence.
Perhaps, he thought wryly, it was a symptom of the gradual
erosion of his moral character in this abnormal environment.

"I'm getting stale," he confided to Copper as he sat in his
office idly turning the pages of the Kardon Journal of Allied
Medical Sciences. "There's nothing to do that's interesting."

"You could help me," Copper said as she looked up from the pile
of cards she was sorting. He had given her the thankless task of
reorganizing the files, and she was barely half through the
project.

"There's nothing to do that's interesting," he repeated. He
cocked his head to one side. From this angle Copper looked
decidedly intriguing as she bent over the file drawer and
replaced a stack of cards.

"I could suggest something," Copper said demurely.

"Yes, I know," he said. "You're full of suggestions."

"I was thinking that we could go on a picnic."

"A what?"

"A picnic. Take a lunch and go somewhere in the jeep. Maybe up
into the hills. I think it might be fun."

"Why not?" Kennon agreed. "At least it would break the monotony.
Tell you what. You run up to the house and tell Kara to pack a
lunch and we'll take the day off."

"Good! I hoped you'd say that. I'm getting tired of these dirty
old cards." She stood up and sidled past the desk. Kennon
resisted the impulse to slap as she went past, and congratulated
himself on his self-control as she looked at him with a
half-disappointed expression on her face. She had expected it, he
thought gleefully. Score one for morality.




He smiled. Whatever the other Lani might be, Copper was
different. Quick, volatile, intelligent, she was a constant
delight, a flashing kaleidoscope of unexpected facets. Perhaps
the others were the same if he knew them better. But he didn't
know them -- and avoided learning. In that direction lay ulcers.

"We'll go to Olympus," he said.

Copper looked dubious. "I'd rather not go there. That's forbidden
ground."

"Oh nonsense. You're merely superstitious."

She smiled. "Perhaps you're right. You usually are."

"That's the virtue of being a man. Even if I'm wrong, I'm right."
He chuckled at the peculiar expression on her face.

"Now off with you -- and get that lunch basket packed."

She bowed. "Yes, master. Your slave flies on winged feet to
execute your commands."

Kennon chuckled. Copper had been reading Old Doc's romances
again. He recognized the florid style.

* * *

Kennon landed the jeep in a mountain meadow halfway up the slope
of the peacefully slumbering volcano. It was quiet and cool, and
the light breeze was blowing Olympus's smoky cap away from them
to the west. Copper unpacked the lunch. She moved slowly. After
all, there was plenty of time, and she wasn't very hungry.
Neither was Kennon.

"Let's go for a walk," Copper said. "The woods look cool -- and
maybe we can work up an appetite."

"Good idea. I could use some exercise. That lunch looks big
enough to choke a horse and I'd like to do it justice."

They walked through the woods, skirting scant patches of
underbrush, slowly moving higher on the mountain slopes. The
trees, unlike those of Beta, did not end abruptly at a snow line,
but pushed green fingers upward through passages between old lava
flows, on whose black wrinkled surfaces nothing grew. The faint
hum of insects and the piping calls of the birdlike mammals added
to the impression of remoteness. It was hard to believe that
scarcely twenty kilometers from this primitive microcosm was the
border of the highly organized and productive farmlands of
Outworld Enterprises.

"Do you think we can see the hospital if we go high enough?"
Copper said. She panted a little, unaccustomed to the altitude.

"Possibly," Kennon said. "It is a long distance away. But we
should be able to see Alexandria," he added. "That's high enough
and big enough." He looked at her curiously. "How is it that
you're so breathless?" he asked. "We're not that high. You're
getting fat with too much soft living."

Copper smiled. "Perhaps I'm getting old."

"Nonsense," Kennon chuckled. "It's just fat. Come to think of it
you are plumper. Not that I mind, but if you're going to keep
that sylphlike figure you'd better go on a diet."

"You're too good to me," Copper said.

"You're darn right I am. Well - let's get going. Exercise is
always good for the waistline, and I'd like to see what's up
ahead."

Scarcely a kilometer ahead they came to a wall of lava that
barred their path. "Oh, oh," Kennon said. "We can't go over
that." He looked at the wrinkled and shattered rock with its
knifelike edges.

"I don't think my feet could take it," Copper admitted.

"It looks like the end of the trail."

"No -- not quite," Kennon said. "There seems to be a path here."
He pointed to a narrow cleft in the black rock. "Let's see where
it goes."

Copper hung back. "I don't think I want to," she said doubtfully.
"It looks awfully dark and narrow."

"Oh, stop it. Nothing's going to hurt us. Come on." Kennon took
her hand.

Unwillingly Copper allowed herself to be led forward. "There's
something about this place that frightens me," she said
uncomfortably as the high black wails closed in, narrowing until
only a slit of yellow sky was visible overhead. The path
underfoot was surprisingly smooth and free from rocks, but the
narrow corridor, steeped in shadows, was gloomy and depressingly
silent. It even bothered Kennon, although he wouldn't admit it.
What forces had sliced this razor-thin cleft in the dense rock
around them? Earthquake probably. And if it happened once it
could happen again. He would hate to be trapped here entombed in
shattered rock.

Gradually the passage widened, then abruptly it ended. A bleak
vista of volcanic ash dotted with sputter cones opened before
them. It was a flat tableland, roughly circular, scarcely half a
kilometer across, a desolation of black rock, stunted trees and
underbrush, and gray volcanic ash. A crater, somewhat larger than
the rest, lay with its nearest edge about two hundred meters
away. The rock edges were fire polished, gleaming in the yellow
sunshine, and the thin margin of trees and brush surrounding the
depression were gnarled and shrunken, twisted into fantastic
shapes.

"Hey! what's this?" Kennon asked curiously. "That crater looks
peculiar, like a meteor had struck here -- but those stunted
plants -- hmm -- there must have been some radioactivity too." He
looked at the crater speculatively. "Now I wonder----"he began.

Copper had turned a sickly white. "No!" she said in a
half-strangled voice--"oh, no!'

Kennon looked at her. "You know what this is?" he demanded.

"No," Copper said. But her voice was unsteady.

"You're lying."

"But I don't know." Copper wailed. "I'm only guessing. I've never
seen this place before in my life! Please! -- let's get out of
here!"

"Then you know about this," Kennon demanded.

"I think it's the Pit," Copper said. 'The redes don't say where
it is. But the description fits -- the Circle of Death, the
Twisted Land -- it's all like the redes say."

"Redes? -- what are redes? And what is this business about
circles of death? There's something here that's peculiar and I
want to know what it is."

"It's nothing. Truly. Just let's go back. Let's leave this place.
It's no good. It's tabu."

"Tabu? You've never used that word before."

"Forbidden."

"Who forbids it?"

"The Gods -- the Old Ones. It is not for Lani. Nor for you." Her
voice was harsh. "Come away before it is too late. Before the
Silent Death strikes you down."

"I'm going to have a look at this."

"You'll be killed!" Copper said. "And if you die, I die too."

"Don't be foolish. There's nothing here that can hurt me. See
those trees and plants growing right up to the crater's edge. If
they can take it permanently, I can stand it for a few moments.
If there's any radioactivity there, it's not very much."

"But the redes say---"

"Oh, forget those redes. I know what I'm doing. Besides, I'm a
Betan and can stand more radiation than most men. A brief
exposure isn't going to hurt me."

"You go and I go too," Copper said desperately.

''You'll stay here where it's safe," Kennon said flatly.

"I'm going with you," Copper repeated. "I don't want to live
without you."

"I tell you I won't be hurt. And one quick look isn't going to
bother whatever's down there."

"That's what Roga the Foolish said when he opened Lyssa's tower.
But he brought men to Flora. And your little look may bring an
even greater calamity."

Kennon shrugged, and started Walking toward the crater's edge.

Copper followed.

He turned to order her back, but the words died on his tips as he
saw the terror and determination on her face. Neither commands
nor pleas would move her. If he went she would follow. The only
way he could stop her would be with violence, and he didn't want
to manhandle her. He felt an odd mixture of pride, tenderness,
and admiration for her. Were their situations reversed, he
doubted whether he would have the courage she was showing. He
sighed. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he did need an
antiradiation suit.

"All right," he said. "You win. I'll get some protective clothing
and look at it later."

Her knees sagged, but he caught her before she fell, and held her
erect until her strength returned. Belatedly he understood the
emotional strain that had been gripping her. "If you come back
later, sir, you'll take me with you." The words were a statement,
not a question.

He nodded. "Providing you wear a radiation suit," he said.

She grimaced with distaste and he chuckled. Clothing and Copper
simply didn't get along together.

"Well?"

"All right," she said unhappily.

"And there's one more condition."

"What's that?" she asked suspiciously.

"That you tell me about this place. You obviously know something
about it, and with all your talking, you've never mentioned it to
me."

"It is forbidden to talk of these things to men," Copper said --
and then, perversely, "Do you want me to tell you now?"

"No -- it can wait. We have come a long way and I am hungry. I
listen poorly on an empty stomach. Let's go back to the jeep and
you can tell me later."

Copper smiled. "That's good," she said. "I'd feel better away
from this place."

CHAPTER XIII

"I was a poor learner of the redes," Copper confessed. "And I'll
have to skip the Mysteries. I never even tried to learn them.
Somehow I was sure I'd never be a preceptress." She settled
herself more comfortably on the tawny grass and watched him as he
lay on his back beside her.

"Eh?" Kennon said, "Preceptress?"

"The guardians of our traditions. They know the redes and
mysteries by heart."

"And you have kept your religion alive that way all these years?"

"It isn't exactly religion," Copper said. "It's more like
history, we learn it to remember that we were once a great race
-- and that we may be again. Someday there will come a male, a
leader to bring us out of bondage, and our race will be free of
dependence on men. There will be pairings again, and freedom to
live as we please." She looked thoughtfully at Kennon. "You might
even be the one -- even though you are human. You're different
from the others."

"You're prejudiced." Kennon smiled. "I'm no different. Well --
not very different at any rate."

"That is not my thought," Copper said. "You are very different
indeed. No man has ever resisted a Lani as long as you have."

Kennon shook his head. "Let's not go into that now. What are
these redes?"

"I do not remember them all," Copper apologized. "I was----"

"You've said that before. Tell me what you do know."

"I remember the beginning fairly well," she said. "It goes back
to the time before Flora when everything was nothing and the
Master Himself was lonely."

Without warning her voice changed to a rhythmic, cadenced chant
that was almost a song. Her face became rapt and introspective as
she rocked slowly from side to side. The rhythm was familiar and
then he recognized it -- the unintelligible music he had often
heard coming from the barracks late at night when no men were
around -- the voiceless humming that the Lani sang at work.

First there was Darkness -- starless and sunless

Void without form -- darker than night

Then did the Master -- Lord of Creation

Wave His right hand, saying, "Let there be light!"

Verse, Kennon thought. That was logical. People remember poetry
better than prose. But the form was not what he'd normally
expect. It was advanced, a style that was past primitive blank
verse or heroic pentameter. He listened intently as Copper went
on.

Light filled the heavens, bright golden glowing,

Brought to the Void by His wondrous hand;

Then did the Master -- Lord of Creation --

Nod His great head, saying, "Let there be land!"

Air, land, and water formed into being,

Born in the sight of His all-seeing eyes;

Then did the master -- Lord of Creation --

Smile as He murmured, "Let life arise!"

All of the life conceived by the Master,

Varied in shape as the grasses and birds;

Hunters and hunted, moveless and moving,

Came into form at the sound of His words.

"That's a great deal like Genesis," Kennon said with mild
astonishment. "Where could you have picked that up?"

"From the beginning of our race," Copper said. "It came to us
with Ulf and Lyssa -- but what is Genesis?"

"A part of an ancient religion -- one that is still followed on
some of the Central Worlds. Its followers call themselves
Christians. They say it came from Earth, the mother-world of
men."

"Our faith has no name. We are children of Lyssa, who was a
daughter of the Master."

"It is an odd similarity," Kennon said. "But other races have had
stories of the Creation. And possibly there may be another
explanation. Your ancestors could have picked this up from
Alexander's men. They came from Earth originally and some of them
could have been Christians."

"No," Cooper said. "This rede is long before Man Alexander. It is
the origin of our world, even before Ulf and Lyssa. It is the
first Book -- the Book of the God-spell. Man Alexander came in
the sixth Book -- the Book of Roga."

"There's no point in arguing about it," Kennon said. "Go on --
tell me the rest."

"It's going to be a long story," Copper said. "Even though I have
forgotten some of it, I can chant the redes for hours."

Kennon braced his back against one of the fat tires of the jeep.
"I'm a good listener," he said.

She chuckled. "You asked for this," she said -- and took up the
verses where she had left off. And Kennon learned the Lani
version of creation, of the first man and woman, cast out of
Heaven for loving each other despite the Master's objection, of
how they came to Flora and founded the race of the Lani. He
learned how the Lani grew in numbers and power, how they split
into two warring groups over the theological point of whether Ulf
or Lyssa was the principal deity, how Roga the Foolish opened
Lyssa's tower to find out whether the Ulfians or Lyssans were
right, and brought the Black Years to Flora.

He heard the trial of Roga and the details of his torture by the
priests of Ulf and the priests of Lyssa -- united by this
greatest sacrilege. And he heard the Lani version of the landing
of Alexander's ship and man's conquest of Flora.

It was a story of savagery and superstition, of blood and
intolerance, of bravery and cowardice, of love and beauty. Yet
through it all, even through the redes that described the
Conquest, there was a curious remoteness, a lack of emotion that
made the verses more terrible as they flowed in passionless
rhythm from Copper's lips.

"That's enough!" Kennon said.

"I told you you wouldn't like it."

"It's horrible. How can you remember such things?"

"We begin to learn them as soon as we can talk. We know the redes
almost our entire lives." Copper was silent for a moment.
"There's lots more," she said, "but it's all about our lives
since the Man Alexander -- the old one -- took possession of us.
And most of the newer redes are pretty dull. Our life hasn't
changed much since the men came. The Book of Man is boring."
Copper sighed. "I have dared a great deal by telling you these
things. If the others knew, they would kill both of us."

"Then why tell me?" he asked.

"I love you," she said simply. "You wanted to know -- and I can
deny you nothing."

A wave of tenderness swept over him. She would give her life for
him -- and what would he give? Nothing. Not even his prejudices.
His face twisted. If she was only human, If she wasn't just an
animal. If he wasn't a Betan. If, if, if. Resentment gorged his
throat. It was unfair -- so damned unfair. He had no business
coming here. He should have stayed on Beta or at least on a human
world where he would never have met Copper. He loved her, but he
couldn't have her. It was Tantalus and Sisyphus rolled into one
unsightly package and fastened to his soul. With a muttered curse
he rose to his feet, and as he did he stopped -- frozen - staring
at Copper as though he had never seen her before.

"How did you say that Roga was judged responsible for Alexander
coming here?" he demanded.

"He went into Lyssa's tower -- where Ulf and Lyssa tried to call
Heaven -- and with his foolish meddling set the tower alight with
a glow that all could see. Less than a week later the Man
Alexander came."

"Where was this tower?"

"Where Alexandria now stands. Man Alexander destroyed it and
built his house upon its ruins."

"And what was that place of the Pit?"

"The Shrine of Ulf -- where the God-Egg struck Flora. It is
buried in the pit, but the Silent Death has protected it from
blasphemy -- and besides Man Alexander never learned about it. We
feared that he would destroy it as he did Lyssa's tower."

A wild hope stirred in Kennon. "We're going home," he announced.

"Good."

"And we're going to get a pair of radiation suits -- and then
we're coming back. We'll have a good look at that Pit, and if
what's in there is what I think it is" -- his face was a mixture
of grimness and eagerness -- "we'll blow this whole operation off
this planet!"

Copper blanched. "It is death to meddle with the God-Egg," she
said.

"Superstition!" Kennon scoffed. "If that Egg is what I think, it
was made by men, and you are their descendant."

"Perhaps you're right, but I can't help thinking you are wrong,"
she said soberly. "Look at the trouble that came with Roga's
meddling. Be careful that you do not bring us a worse fate."

"I'll be very careful. We'll take every precaution."

"We?"

"You're coming, of course. I can't imagine you staying away."

Copper nodded.

"You shouldn't worry so much" Kennon teased. "You know we men
live forever."

"That is true."

"And if I'm right you're just as human as I. And you're capable
of living as long as I do."

"Yes, sir," Copper said. Her voice was unconvinced, her
expression noncommittal.

"You females," Kennon said in quick exasperation. "You drive a
man crazy. Get an idea in your head and it takes triatomate to
blast it out. Now let's go."

Two hours brought them back to the volcanic area, and knowing
what to look for, Kennon located the pockmarked mountain valley.
From the air it looked completely ordinary. Kennon was amazed at
the perfection of the natural camouflage. The Pit was merely
another crater in the pitted ground. He dropped to a lower
altitude, barely a hundred feet above the sputter cones. "Look!"
he said.

Below them was the crater of the Pit and in its center a smooth
bluish-black hemisphere protruded from the crater floor. It would
have passed unnoticed by the casual eye -- nearly concealed by
two gigantic blocks of pumice.

"The God-Egg!" Copper exclaimed.

"Egg -- ha! that's a spacer! I thought it would be. I'd recognize
durilium anywhere. Let's go down and look this over, but first we
want a couple of pictures." He pointed a camera at the crater and
snapped the shutter. "There -- now let's have a closer look at
our baby."

"Do you expect me to get into that thing?" Copper said
distastefully as she prodded the shapeless green coveralls with a
bare toe. She eyed the helmet, gloves and boots with equal
distaste. "I'd suffocate."

"If you want to come with me, you'll wear it," Kennon said.
"Otherwise you won't come near that pit. Try it and I'll chain
you to the jeep."

"You wouldn't!"

"Just try me."

"Oh -- all fight. I'll wear the thing -- but I won't be
comfortable.''

"Who cares about that? You'll be protected."

"All right -- show me how to put it on. I'd rather be with you
than worry about what you are doing."

The suit was several sizes too large but it covered her
adequately. Too adequately, Kennon decided. She looked like a
pile of wrinkles with legs. He chuckled.

She glared. "So I'm funny," she said. "Let me tell you something
else that's funny. I'm hot. I'm sweating. I itch. Now -- laugh!"

"I don't feel like laughing," Kennon said. "I feel the same way."

They approached the edge of the Pit carefully. Kennon kept
checking tho radiation counter. The needle slowly rose and
steadied at one-half roentgen per hour as he thrust the probe
over the rim of the depression. "It's fine, so far," he said
encouragingly. "We could take this much for quite a while even
without suits." He lowered himself over the edge, sliding down
the gentle slope.

"How is it down there?" Copper called. The intercom crackled in
his ear.

"Fine -- barely over one roentgen per hour. With these suits we
could stay here indefinitely." The sigh of relief was music in
her ears. "This place is barely lukewarm."

"That's what you think," Copper said.

"I mean radiation warm," Kennon said. "Stay up there and watch
me. I may need some things."

"All right." Copper squirmed inside the hot suit. The thing was
an oven. She hoped that Kennon didn't plan to work in the
daytime. It would be impossible.

Kennon gingerly approached the ship. It was half buried in the
loose debris and ash that had fallen or blown into the pit during
the centuries it had rested there. It was old -- incredibly old.
The hull design was ancient -- riveted sheets of millimeter-thick
durilium. Ships hadn't been built like that in over two thousand
years. And the ovoid shape was reminiscent of the even more
ancient spindizzy design. A hyperspace converter like that
couldn't be less than four millennia old. It was a museum piece,
but the blue-black hull was as smooth and unblemished as the day
it had left fabrication.

Space travel would have gotten nowhere without durilium, Kennon
reflected. For five thousand years men had used the incredibly
tough synthetic to build their spacecraft. It had given man his
empire. Kennon gave the hull one quick glance. That part of the
ship didn't worry him. It was what he would find inside that
bothered him. How much damage had occurred from two thousand or
more years of disuse? How much had the original travelers
cannibalized? How much could be salvaged? What sort of records
remained? There were a thousand questions that the interior of
that enigmatic hull might answer.

The upper segment of the airlock was visible. It was closed,
which was a good sign. A few hours' work with a digger should
expose it enough to be opened.

"Copper," he said, "we're going to have to dig this out. There's
a small excavator in the cargo bed of the jeep. Do you think you
can bring it down here?"

"I think so."

"Good girl!" Kennon turned back to the ship. He was eager to
enter it. There might be things inside that would settle the
question of the Lani. The original crew had probably recognized
the value of the hull as a repository as well as he did. But in
the meantime there would be work -- lots of it. And every step
must be recorded.

It was the rest of the day's work to expose the emergency
airlock. The little excavator toiled over the loose ash for hours
before it displaced enough to make the port visible, and the ash
was not yet cleared away sufficiently to open the portal when
darkness brought a halt to the work.

It would be impossible to unearth the spaceship with their
low-capacity digger, Kennon decided. It would be difficult enough
to clear the emergency airlock in the nose. But if the tubes and
drive were still all right, by careful handling it should be
possible to use the drive to blast out the loose ash and cinders
which surrounded the hull.

Kennon reluctantly gave up the idea of entering the spaceship.
That would have to wait until tomorrow. Now they would have to
conceal the work and call it a day. A few branches and the big
blocks of pumice would suffice for temporary camouflage. Later
they could make something better. Anything in the jeep which
might be useful was cached along with the radiation suits in the
passageway through the lava wall -- and in a surprisingly short
time they were heading homeward.

Kennon was not too displeased. Tomorrow they would be able to
enter the ship. Tomorrow they would probably have some of the
answers to his questions. He looked ahead into the gathering
night. The gray mass of the abandoned Olympus Station slipped
below them as he lined the jeep along the path indicated by the
luminous arrow atop the main building, set the controls on
automatic, and locked the craft on the guide beacon in
Alexandria's tower. In a little less than an hour they would be
home.

CHAPTER XIV

Kennon was morally certain that the Lani were of human stock.
Evolved, of course. Mutated. Genetic strangers to the rest of
humanity. But human. The spaceship and the redes proved it as far
as he was concerned. But moral certainty and legal certainty were
two different things. What he believed might be good enough to
hold up in a Brotherhood court, but he doubted it. Ulf and Lyssa
might be the founders of the Lani race, but they had come to
Kardon nearly four thousand years ago and no records existed to
prove that the Lani weren't here before they came. Redes passed
by word of mouth through hundreds of generations were not
evidence. Even the spaceship wasn't the absolute proof that would
be needed to overturn the earlier legal decision. Other and
better proof was needed -- something that would stand up in any
court in the Brotherhood. He hoped the spaceship would hold that
proof.

But Kennon's eagerness to find out what was inside the ancient
spacer was tempered by hard practicality. Too much depended on
what he might find inside that hull. Every step of the work must
be documented beyond any refutation. Some method of establishing
date, time, and location had to be prepared. There must be a
record of every action. And that would require equipment and
planning. There must be no mistake that could be twisted by the
skillful counsel that Alexander undoubtedly retained.

He had no doubt that the Family would fight. Too much money and
prestige were involved. To prove the Lani human would destroy
Outworld Enterprises on Kardon. Yet this thought did not bother
him. To his surprise he had no qualms of conscience. He was
perfectly willing to violate his contract, break faith with his
employers, and plot their ruin. The higher duty came first -- the
duty to the human race.

He smiled wryly. It wasn't all higher duty. There were some
personal desires that leavened the nobility. To prove Copper
human was enough motivation -- actually it was better than his
sense of duty. Events, Kennon reflected, cause a great deal of
change in one's attitude. Although not by nature a plotter,
schemes had been flitting through his mind with machinelike
regularity, to be examined and discarded, or to be set aside for
future reference.

He rejected the direct approach. It was too dangerous, depended
too much on personalities, and had too little chance for success.
He considered the possibility of letters to the Brotherhood
Council but ultimately rejected it. Not only was the proof
legally insufficient to establish humanity in the Lani, but he
also remembered Alexander's incredible knowledge of his
activities, and there was no reason to suppose that his present
didn't receive the same scrutiny as the past. And if he, who
hadn't written a letter in over a year, suddenly began to write,
the correspondence would undoubtedly be regarded with suspicion
and would probably be examined, and Dirac messages would be out
for the same reason.

He could take a vacation and while he was away from the island he
could inform the Brotherhood. Leaving Flora wouldn't be
particularly difficult, but leaving Kardon would be virtually
impossible. His contract called for vacations, but it expressly
provided that they would be taken on Kardon. And again, there
would be no assurance that his activities would not be watched.
In fact, it was probable that they would be.

There was nothing that could be done immediately. But there were
certain long-range measures that could be started. He could begin
preparing a case that could be presented to the Council. And
Beta, when it knew, would help him. The situation of the Lani was
so close to Beta's own that its obvious merit as a test case
simply could not be ignored. If he could get the evidence to
Beta, it would be easy to enlist the aid of the entire
Medico-Technological Civilization. It would take time and
attention to detail; the case, the evidence, everything would
have to be prepared with every safeguard and contingency
provided, so that there would not be the slightest chance of a
slip-up once it came to court.

And perhaps the best method of bringing the evidence would be to
transport it under its own power. The thought intrigued him.
Actually it wouldn't be too difficult. Externally the Egg wasn't
in bad shape. The virtually indestructible durilium hull was
still intact. The controls and the engines, hermetically sealed
inside the hull, were probably as good as the day they stopped
running. The circuitry would undoubtedly be bad but it could be
repaired and restored, and new fuel slugs could be obtained for
the engine and the converter. But that was a problem for the
future.

The immediate problem was to get into the ship in a properly
documented fashion.

It took nearly two months, but finally, under the impersonal
lenses of cameras and recorders, the entrance port of the God-Egg
swung open and revealed the dark interior. Kennon moved
carefully, recording every step as he entered the black orifice
in the spaceship's side. His handtorch gave plenty of light for
the recorders as he moved inside - Copper at his heels, both of
them physically unrecognizable in antiradiation suits.

"Why are we moving so slowly?" Copper said. "Let's go ahead and
find out what's beyond this passageway."

"From a superstitious coward you've certainly become a reckless
explorer," he said.

"The Egg hasn't hurt us, and we've been around it many times,"
she said. "Either the curse has become too old to hurt us, or
there never was any in the first place. So let's see what is
ahead. I'm curious."

Kennon shook his head. "In this business we must hurry slowly --
very slowly. You know why."

"But I want to see."

"Patience, girl. Simmer down. You'll see soon enough," Kennon
said. "Now help me set up this camera."

"Oh, all right -- but isn't there any excitement in you?"

"I'm bubbling over with it," Kennon admitted, "but I manage to
keep it under control."

"You're cold-blooded."

"No -- I'm sensible. We want to nail this down. My future, yours,
and that of your people depend upon how carefully we work. You
wouldn't want to let us all down by being too eager, would you?"

She shook her head. "No -- you're right of course. But I still
would like to see."

They moved cautiously through the airlock and into the control
room.

"Ah!" Kennon said with satisfaction. "I hoped for this, but I
didn't dare expect it."

"What?"

"Look around. What do you see?"

"Nothing but an empty room. It's shaped like half an orange, and
it has a lot of funny instruments and dials on the walls, and a
video screen overhead. But that's all. Why -- what's so unusual
about it? It looks just like someone had left it."

"That's the point. There's nothing essential that's missing. They
didn't cannibalize the instruments -- and they didn't come back."

"Why not?"

"Maybe because that curse you mentioned a few minutes ago was
real."

Copper drew back. "But you said it wouldn't hurt us----"

"Not now. The heat's practically gone, but when whoever flew this
crate came here, the whole shell could have been as hot as a
Samarian summer."

"But couldn't they have come back when it cooled?"

"Not with this kind of heat. The hull was probably too
radioactive to approach from the outside. And radioactivity cools
off slowly. It might take several lifetimes for its level to
become low enough to approach if there was no decontamination
equipment available."

"I suppose that's why the early ones thought the Egg was cursed."

Kennon nodded. "Now let's check -- oh! oh! what's this?" He
pointed to a metal-backed book lying on the control panel.

"It looks like a book," Copper said.

"I'm hoping it's the book."

"The book?"

"Yes -- the ship's log. It's possible. And if it is, we may have
all the evidence we need -- Copper! -- Don't touch it!"

"Why not?"

"Because its position has to be recorded first. Wait until we get
the camera and recorders set up."

* * *

Gingerly Kennon opened the ancient book. The sheets inside were
brittle -- crumbling with age -- but he could make out the title
U.N.S.S. Wanderer with the date of launching and a lower line
which read "Ship's Log." Kennon was thankful for his medical
training. The four years of Classical English that he had
despised so much were essential now. Stumbling over unfamiliar
words and phrases, he moved slowly through the log tracing the
old ship's history from .pleasure craft to short-haul freight
tractor to obsolescence m a space dump orbiting around a world
called Heaven.

There was a gap of nearly ten years indicated by a blank page
before the entries resumed.

"Ah -- this is it!" Kennon said.

"What is it?" Copper said curiously. "I can't read the writing."

"Of course you can't. It's in English -- a language that became
obsolete during the Interregnum. I  had to learn it, since most
medical terminology is based on it."

"What is an Interregnum?" Copper interrupted. I've never heard
that word before."

"It's a period of confusion when there is no stable government.
The last one came after the Second Galactic War -- but never mind
that -- it happened long ago and isn't important now. The
important thing that did happen was the Exodus."

"What was that?"

"A religious revival and a tremendous desire to see what was
happening beyond the next star. During that century men traveled
wider and farther then they ever have before or since. In that
outward explosion with its mixed motivations of religion and
practicality, colonists and missionaries went starward to find
new worlds to tame, and new races to be rescued from the darkness
of idolatry and hell. Almost any sort of vehicle capable of
mounting a spindizzy converter was pressed into service. The old
spindizzies were soundly engineered converters of almost
childlike simplicity that could and did carry ships enormous
distances if their passengers didn't care about subjective
time-lag, and a little radioactivity.

"And that's what happened to this ship. According to this log it
was bought by Alfred and Melissa Weygand - a missionary couple
with the idea of spreading the Christian faith to the heathen.

"Alfred and Melissa -- Ulf and Lyssa -- they were a part of this
ancient explosion that scattered human seed across parsecs of
interstellar space. It seems that they were a unit in a
missionary fleet that had gone out to the stars with flame in
their hearts and Gospel on their lips to bring the Word to the
benighted heathen on other worlds." Kennon's lips curled with
mild contempt at their stupid foolhardiness even as his pulse
quickened to their bravery. They had been fanatics, true enough,
but theirs was a selfless fanaticism that would risk torture and
death for what they believed -- a fanaticism that was more
sublime than the concept of Brotherhood which had evolved from
it. They knew nothing of the enmity of race, of the incessant
struggle man had since waged with alien intelligences all too
willing to destroy intruders who encroached upon their worlds.
Mankind's early selflessness had long ago been discarded for
frank expansionism and dominance over the lesser races that stood
in their way. And in a way it was too bad.

The ship's log, meticulously kept in neat round English script,
told a story that was more than the bare bones of flight. There
was passion and tenderness and a spiritual quality that was
shocking to a modern man steeped in millennia of conquest and
self-interest. There was a greatness to it, a depth of faith that
had since been lost. And as Kennon slowly deciphered the ancient
script he admired the courage even as his mind winced with dismay
at the unheeding recklessness.

The Weygands had lost contact with the others, and had searched
for them in hyperspace, doubling and twisting upon their course
until they had become hopelessly lost, and then, with their fuel
nearly exhausted, had broken out into the normal three-space
continuum to find Kardon's sun and the world they called Flora.

How little they had known and how lucky they had been.

It was only by the grace of their God that they had found this
world before their fuel was exhausted. And it was only by further
grace that the planet was habitable and not populated with
intelligent life. They had more luck than people were entitled to
in a dozen lifetimes. Against odds of a million to one they had
survived.

It was fascinating reading.

But it was not proof.

The last entry read: "We have circled this world and have seen no
buildings -- no sign of intelligent life. We are lost, marooned
on this empty world. Our fuel supplies are too low for us to
attempt to find the others. Nor could we. The constellations in
the sky are strange. We do not know which way to go. Therefore we
shall land upon the great island in the center of the yellow sea.
And perhaps someday men will come to us since we cannot return to
them. Melissa thinks that this is an example of Divine
Providence, that the Lord's mercy has been shown to us that were
lost in the vastness of the deep -- that we have been chosen,
like Eve and Adam, to spread the seed of man to yet another
world. I hope she is right, yet I fear the radiation level of the
ship has become inordinately high. We may well be Eve and Adam,
yet an Adam that cannot beget and an Eve that is not fruitful. I
am trimming the ship for landing, and we shall leave it
immediately after we have landed, taking with us only what we
absolutely need. There is too much radiation from the spindizzy
and the drive to remain here longer -- and God knows how hot the
outer hull may be."

And that was all. Presumptive evidence -- yes. Reasonable
certainty -- yes. But not proof. Lawyers could argue that since
no direct exploration was made there was no valid reason to
assume that the Lani did not already inhabit Kardon. But Kennon
knew. His body, more perceptive than his mind, had realized a
truth that his brain would not accept until he read the log. It
was at once joy and frustration. Joy that Copper was human,
frustration that he could not obtain for her and her race the
rights to which they were entitled. But the immediate problem was
solved. His conditioning was broken now he was convinced that
Copper was a member of the human race. It was no violation of his
code to love her. The greatest barrier was broken, and with it
gone the lesser ones would yield. Relief that was almost pain
washed through him and left him weak with reaction.

"What is it?" Copper asked as he turned to her. "What is this
thing that has turned your face to joy?"

"Can't you guess?"

She shook her head. "I have seen nothing but you reading this
ancient book, yet you turn to me with the look in your eyes that
the redes say Ulf had for Lyssa."

"You're human!"

Copper shrugged. "You're mad. I'm a Lani. I was born a Lani --
and I shall die one."

"Don't you understand? All Lani are human. You all are the
descendants of two humans who came here thousands of years ago."

"Then there is no reason why you cannot love me."

Kennon shook his head. "No," he said. "There is no reason."

Copper laughed. It was a sound so merry and gay that Kennon
looked at her in surprise. She looked as happy as she sounded.

Simple and savage, Kennon thought. She cared nothing for the
future, and probably very little about the injustice of her
present. The thing that mattered was that what had kept them
apart was gone. She was probably offering mental sacrifices to
the Old Ones who had caused this change in the man she loved. She
didn't really care about what had caused the change. To her it
was sufficient that it had happened.

For a moment Kennon wished that it could be as simple for him as
it apparently was for her. The fact that Copper was human posed a
greater problem than the one it solved. The one had been
personal. The other was infinitely greater. He could not let it
lie. The very morality which had kept him from doing what he
wished when he thought she was a humanoid now forced him to do
what he did not wish. Every instinct said to leave it alone. The
problem was too great for one man to solve, the situation too
complicated, the evidence too inconclusive, the opposition too
powerful. It would be far better to take his happiness and enjoy
it. It was not his problem to solve. He could turn the evidence
over to the Brotherhood once his contract was over, and better
and more capable people than he could settle the Lani legal
status. But the inner voice that had called him bestial now
called him shirker, coward, and slacker. And this, too, could not
be borne. The case of the Lani would have to be pursued as
vigorously as he could do it. They were entitled to human rights
-- whether they wanted them or not.

His first idea of making the spacer operational was a good one,
Kennon decided as they finished the inspection of the ship. Even
if it was never used it would make a good means of retreat. He
grinned wryly. In a guerrilla operation such as the one he was
considering it would be wise to have a way out if things got too
hot. The heavy parts, the engines and the controls, were in
workable condition and would merely require cleaning and oiling.
Some of the optical equipment would have to be replaced and fuel
slugs would have to be obtained for the drive -- but none of
these would be too hard to accomplish. The slugs from any of the
power reactors on the island would serve nicely. All that would
have to be done would be to modify the fuel ports on the ship's
engine. The spindizzy would have to be disassembled and checked,
and the main leads, embedded in time-resistant plastic, would
have to be examined. The most serious problem, however, wouldn't
involve these things. The control board wiring and circuitry was
where the trouble would lie. Normal insulation and printed
circuitry wasn't designed to last for thousands of years. Each
wired circuit would have to be removed, duplicated, and replaced.
Every printed panel would have to be cleaned and receive a new
coat of insulating varnish. Working full time, a four-man
electronics team could do the job in a week. Working part-time
the two of them might get it done in three months. And the other
jobs would take at least another. Add a month for errors in
judgment, lack of materials, and mistakes -- and another for
unavoidable delays -- it would be at least six months before the
Egg would be spaceworthy.

Six months.

Not too long if everything went well, but far too long if there
were any mistakes. He would have to be careful, yet he must not
give the impression of being careful. He shook his head. Being a
subversive was going to require a greater amount of acting
ability than he had ever been called upon to display.

And what of Copper? How would she behave under the double strain
of knowledge that she was human and knowledge of the spaceship?
Women weren't noted for their tight-lipped reticence. Would she
tell the other Lani? Would she crack under the pressure? Did she
have the qualities of a good conspirator?

As it turned out, he didn't need to worry. As a partner in crime,
Copper was all that could be wished. Everything was normal. She
was still obedient, helpful, and gay as ever. To watch her, no
one would ever think that her bright head was full of knowledge
that could rock Flora to its foundations. Never by look or word
did she betray the slightest trace of strain or guilt.

And in her other moments she was ecstatic in her love and helpful
with the repair work on the Egg whenever Kennon could get time to
visit the old spaceship.

"You amaze me," Kennon said as they eased the cover of the
spindizzy in place and spun the bolts on the lugs that held it to
the outer shielding. He picked up a heavy wrench and began
methodically to seat the bolts as Copper wiped the white
extrusion of the cover sealant from the shining case.

"How?"

"The way you hide your knowledge of this ship from the others. I
know you better than anyone else on this island, and yet you
would fool me."

"We Lani are used to hiding things. You men have been our masters
for centuries, yet you do not know our redes. Nor do you know
what we think, We obey you, but there are parts of us you do not
own. It is easy to hide a little thing like this."

Kennon nodded. It figured. He seated another bolt. Three more and
the drive room would be restored and they could start on the
control circuits. "I wish you were as clever about adopting human
customs as you are about hiding guilty knowledge," he said.

Copper laughed. "You mean those silly things you have been
teaching me? Why should I learn them? I'm happy as I am. I love
you, you love me, and that is all that matters."

"It's not all that matters. Can't you get it through your head
that civilized customs are necessary in a civilized society?" He
gave the next-to-last bolt an extra-vicious wrench. "You'll have
to know them if you expect to get along on Beta."

"But I will never see Beta."

"I am going there when my duty here is over. And you're going
with me."

"When will that be?"

"Three years."

"So long? Well -- we can think of it then, but I don't think Man
Alexander will let you take me."

"Then I shall take you without his consent"

She smiled. "It would be easier to stay here. In another fifteen
years I will be old and you will not want me."

"I'll never do that. I'll always want you."

"You swear too easily," she said gently. "You men live forever.
We Lani are a short-lived race."

"But you needn't be. It's obviously----"

"It's been tried, my love -- and those who were treated died. Man
Alexander tried many years ago to make us long-lived like you.
But he failed. You see, he loved one of us too."

"But----"

"Let us think no more of it. Let us enjoy what we have and be
grateful to the Gods for the love we enjoy -- or do you have any
Gods?"

"One."

"Two are better. More, anyway. And besides, Ulf and Lyssa and the
God-Egg are responsible for our joy."

"They are indeed," Kennon said.

"Then why should you think of leaving the place where they rule?
You should stay here. There will be other Lani when I am gone.
You will be happy always."

"Not without you," Kennon said. "Don't you understand that I love
you?"

"And I you. But I am a Lani. You are a man."

"You're as human as I am," Kennon said abruptly.

"That is what you say," Copper replied. "I am not so sure. I need
more proof than this." She waved her hand at the ship.

"What proof do you need?"

"The same as the proof you men require. If I should have your
child, then I would believe that I was human."

"I've told you a thousand times that the radiation on this ship
must have affected Ulf and Lyssa's germ plasm. Can't you
understand that?"

"I can understand it all right, but it does not change things.
Ulf and Lyssa may have been human before they came here, but they
were not when they landed. They were Lani, and their children
were Lani."

"But they were of human stock."

"The law that lets men become our masters does not agree with
you."

"Then the law is wrong. It should be changed."

Copper shrugged. "Two people cannot change a law."

"They can try -- particularly if the law is unjust."

Copper sighed. "Is it not enough for us to love? Must you try to
run through a wall?"

"When the wall stands in the way of right and justice I must."

Copper looked at him with pity in her green eyes. "This I do not
understand. I know nothing of right and justice. What are these
things? Just words. Yet you will endanger our happiness for them.
If it is my happiness you wish - then leave this foolishness
alone. I have fifteen years I can live with you before I am old
and you tire of me. With those years I can be content."

"But I can't," Kennon said. "Call me selfish if you wish, but I
want you with me as long as I live. I don't want to live my life
without you."

"You want too much," Copper said softly. "But if it makes you
happy to try to get it, I shall help. And if we do not succeed
you will at least be happier for trying. And if you are happy" --
she shrugged -- "then the rest makes little difference."

That was the crux of the matter, Kennon reflected bitterly. He
was convinced she was human. She was not. And until her mind
could be changed on that point she would help him but her heart
wouldn't be in it. And the only thing that would convince her
that she was human would be a child - a child of his begetting.
He could perhaps trick her with an artificial insemination of
Lani sperm. There were drugs that could suspend consciousness,
hypnotics that would make her believe anything she was told while
under their influence.

But in the end it would do no good. All witnesses in Brotherhood
court actions were examined under psychoprobe, and a hypnotic was
of no value against a lie detector that could extract the deepest
buried truth. And he would be examined too. The truth would
out--and nothing would be gained. In fact -- everything would be
lost. The attempt at trickery would prejudice any court against
the honest evidence they had so painfully collected.

He sighed. The only thing to do was to go on as they were -- and
hope that the evidence would hold. With Betan legal talent at
their back it might. And, of course, they could try to produce a
child as nature had intended. They could try -- but Kennon knew
it would not succeed. It never had.

CHAPTER XV

Copper had been acting strangely of late, Kennon thought as he
rolled over in his bed and watched her standing before the
full-length mirror on the bathroom door. She pivoted slowly
before the glass, eying herself critically, raising her arms over
her head, holding them at her sides, flexing her supple spine and
tightening muscles that moved like silken cords beneath her
golden skin.

"What are you trying to do -- become a muscle dancer?" Kennon
asked idly.

She whirled, a crimson blush deepening the tan of her face. "You
were supposed to be asleep," she said.

"I'm an unregenerate heel," he replied, "and I don't sleep too
well nowadays unless you're beside me."

"Well -- I suppose you might as well know now as later," she
said. "You'll know in any event."

"Know what?"

"That you're right. I am human."

"And what brought on this sudden change of--" He stopped
abruptly, his eyes widening.

"Yes," Copper said. "I am with child. Your child."

"But that's impossible."

She shook her head. "It's a miracle perhaps, but it's not
impossible. It's happened. Can't you see the difference?"

"See what? You look just as you always do."

"I suppose you can't see it yet," she admitted. "But I am with
child. I'm two weeks past my time."

Kennon's mind leaped to the obvious conclusion. Pseudo-pregnancy.
He had seen it before among Lani at Hillside Farm. It was an odd
syndrome which occasionally occurred in humans and animals. The
brain, desiring children, made demands upon the body and the body
responded to its desire by tricking the brain. Lani were fairly
subject to its probably because they had better imaginations. He
would run a few tests when they went down to the hospital, and
once she realized the practical joke her body was playing
everything would be all right. No wonder she seemed excited.

"We'll find out about that later," he said equably. "We'll settle
this when we get back to the hospital."

Copper smiled confidently and patted her stomach. "I know what
you are thinking, but you're wrong. We Lani know about these
things. In forty generations I am the first to conceive as the
Master intended."

"I hope you haven't," Kennon said with such bitter sincerity that
Copper looked at him wide-eyed. "Not now. Because if you have,
neither your life nor mine is safe."

"Why?"

"The Alexanders. Do you think they'll take it lying down? We're
not ready for them yet. They'll fight, and the first thing
they'll do is kill you and erase me so we would never be able to
talk. You have been declared an animal, and you will not be
allowed to change."

"What can we do?" Copper asked. She shivered. "I do not want to
die."

"Nor do I want you to," Kennon said.

"I could tell the others."

"And just what would that accomplish?"

"In a week every Lani on the island would know it. There would be
revolt. For the Lani would no longer be dependent upon Men to
survive. Their greatest hold on us would be gone. And we would be
free again on our island world."

"You would not!" Kennon said. "That sort of thinking is
foolishness. Alexander would have men here within a week, and a
week after that you would be smashed. Don't you realize that
there are thousands of millions of men in the galaxy -- and to
every one of them you would be animals. You know nothing about
what you would face. Your puny hundreds couldn't even stand
against a fraction of the power Alexander could mount against
you. Have you seen a Burkholtz blaster work? Have you seen
remote-control antipersonnel missiles? Have you push-pull
projectors, atomic warheads? All of these weapons Alexander can
command. Don't you realize he's an entrepreneur? -- one of the
most powerful men in this sector?"

Copper shook her head. "No," she said in a small voice. "I know
nothing about these things."

"And do you think forty generations of absolute obedience to men
can be overcome because one Lani says she is pregnant by a man?"

Copper frowned. "You put that in a different way. You talk as if
it were my belief rather than the truth."

"What is truth?" Kennon said heavily. "Who would believe you?
There are hundreds of others with child.

"Sure you're human. You know it. I know it. I've been trying to
convince you for the past two months. You're just as human as I
am. But pray that you're not pregnant. We can't get out of here
in less than four months and by then everybody will know about
you. Someone will certainly check the records. And after that
will come the psychoprobes. Everything will come to light. The
Egg will be destroyed. I will be erased. You will be dead. And
that will be the end of it." He looked down at her with an odd
expression of pity on his face. "You see?" he demanded harshly.

Copper nodded. "I didn't understand," she said. "Don't be angry
with me. I shouldn't have told you. I thought you'd be happy."

"I was never angry with you, but I am with myself. I was stupid.
I didn't figure on the remote possibility that we might be
genetically compatible. I should have my head examined for
putting you in such danger. However there's the possibility --
the probability -- that your body is playing a trick upon you."

She shook her head. "You are wrong. I am not mistaken. I am with
child and the child is yours. But the fault is no more yours than
mine. I wanted you before you looked on me. I still do and I do
not feel at fault. That I am yours, that my child is yours is a
thing of wonder and joy. Never could I have expected so much."

Kennon looked down at her smudged face, streaked with the sudden
rivulets of tears, and bitterness galled his throat. Dear God --
let her be wrong, he prayed silently. Let it be pseudopregnancy
this time. Let the tests be negative.

But they weren't. Unequivocally they confirmed Copper's
diagnosis. Here was the proof he needed. The final test that
would prove the Lani human. And he had no way of getting it where
it would do any good. It would take at least four months of
steady labor before the ship was ready, and he didn't have that
sort of time. He was needed here and his prolonged absence would
cause suspicion and investigation. Something would have to be
done -- but what? He couldn't take Copper off the island in an
airboat. They were checked with microscopic care by Otpen One's
IFF. A jeep didn't have enough range to take them to the
mainland. And even if they got there they couldn't get off the
planet. Alexander knew everything that happened on Kardon's two
spaceports. The Egg was the only way, but the Egg was unfinished
and unspaceworthy.

Frantically Kennon considered concealing Copper. He shook his
head. It wouldn't work. It would be impossible, to hide a baby on
a place where every birth was recorded. Nor could one hide
evidence of pregnancy in a Lani. Childbearing leaves telltale
marks upon the body, and Copper, even if she could be concealed
for the duration of her pregnancy, could never survive the
sharp-eyed scrutiny of her fellows or the other humans. Questions
would inevitably be asked.

There had to be a solution. He rubbed his forehead wearily. It
was strange how so little a thing as the union of a spermatozoon
and an ovum could produce so much trouble. He looked across the
office at Copper placidly filing case cards. She wasn't worrying.
With sublime faith, she was sure that he would find the answer,
the one that would solve everything. He shuddered. The only
logical solution was abortion -- and that was unthinkable! He
would not murder his child -- nor would Copper permit it if he
was capable of doing so.

It was almost a relief when his phone rang and Blalok's voice
came cheerfully across the wire.

"Tried to get you about an hour ago," the superintendent said,
"but your girl said you were busy."

"I was."

"You through now?"

"Yes."

"Well, get up to the fortress. Alexander just flew in and he's
calling a meeting. Something important has come up."

Something important! A wave of ice rattled down Kennon's spine,
and then he grinned feebly. Alexander didn't know. He couldn't
know. It had to be something else.

"I'll be right up," he said, marveling at the calmness in his
voice.

Kennon couldn't help comparing this meeting with the one a year
ago. The location was different -- the conference room in
Alexandria was more formal than Blalok's parlor but the same
people were present: Alexander, Blalok, Jordan, and himself.
Somehow Alexander seemed to have shrunk. He was no longer as
impressive as he had been. But the man still radiated force, even
though it didn't seem quite so overpowering. The year, Kennon
thought, had done much to build his self-confidence. He felt
assured rather than nervous.

"Good to see you, Kennon," Alexander said. "Reports say you're
doing a good job."

"I can't claim the credit," Kennon said. "Eighty-five per cent of
our success is due to co-operation from the operating staff. And
that's Blalok's doing -- he knocked the heads of the division
managers together and they took care of their staffs. Otherwise
we could have had a bad time."

"But you didn't," Alexander said. "And you were the motive
force."

"I've darn near motivated myself out of a job," Kennon said.
"They co-operate all too well nowadays."

"Which goes to prove that my theories on preventive medicine are
right," Alexander said, turning to Blalok.

"It looks that way," Blalok admitted, "but that could be because
you picked a good man."

"He's good in more ways than one," Alexander said. "Or did he
tell you he saved Douglas's life out on Otpen One?"

"He's never said a word."

Alexander smiled. "Another point in his favor. He knows how to
keep his mouth shut."

"Not when he's telling someone what to do about disease," Jordon
interjected.

"Or telling someone off when they haven't followed directions,''
Blaiok added.

"Better and better. I was sure that he was the one we needed when
we first met."

Kennon felt his ears turn flaming red.

"But that's not the reason I brought you here. This isn't a Jac
Kennon admiration society. I called you because I want to expand
the Lani breeding program."

"Why?" Jordan asked.

Blalok stiffened. "You know my feeling about that, sir. I've
never liked the idea of selling them. If that's what's in your
mind--"

Alexander shook his head. "Simmer down," he said, as he seated
himself at the head of the table. "There's going to be no
selling. The Lani are too valuable for that. We'll need them more
than the money they'd bring on the market. You see -- I've
acquired a planet out on the periphery. A place called Phoebe.
One of our ships found it, and I staked a discovery claim on the
major land mass, and the crew made lesser claims that covered all
the available land. Last month the Brotherhood allowed the
claims. Last week the crewmen sold me their land. Phoebe's a
lovely place -- quite a bit like Flora -- and the ecological
tests show it's capable of supporting mammalian life. Just before
I came here I sent three shiploads of exterminators to clean it
up and make it ready for us. It should be ready in two years."

"What sort of an ecology are you exterminating?" Jordan asked.

"Not that it makes any difference," Alexander said, "but it's
mainly reptilian. Nothing over Group I. We'll restock with Floran
animals."

Jordan sighed. "Since that's the way it is, it doesn't make any
difference," he said.  "But it could have. The Lani are sensitive
to things like that. If they thought that they were walking in
over a pile of bodies they'd do badly. It'd be like Olympus all
over again. And we couldn't keep them from knowing. We talk and
we forget, but they'd tell each other - and they'd remember."

"I know," Alexander said, "somehow they've never forgotten that
Grandfather trapped the last of the Lani males on Olympus."

Jordan nodded. "They can't stand the place. That's why we had to
abandon the station."

"Does this new world have a moon?" Kennon asked abruptly.

"Yes -- in fact it has two."

"Habitable?"

"No -- they're too small to hold air. But men could live there in
domes -- but why do you? -- oh! I see! I hadn't considered that
point." Alexander's hand darted to the phone beside him. "Get me
Albertsville," he snapped. "Yes, my offices -- I want Mr. Oliver
in purchasing and contracting. Hello -- Ward? Alexander here. Yes
-- everything's fine. I have a job for you -- use your scrambler
- pattern two." Alexander dialed the scrambler code on the second
dial at the base of the phone, effectively preventing
eavesdropping by beam tappers. "Yes," he went on. "It's Project
Phoebe. Have you secured title to the moons? You haven't? Well --
you'd better do it before some of our competitors get bright
ideas. Sure they know about the project -- do you think they're
stupid? Warren over at Consolidated practically told me that he
was onto our scheme. So get title to those moons. Since they're
uninhabitable and within the planet's primary field they come
under the Spatial Debris Act and you should be able to get
Kardonian title without any great amount of trouble. Naturally we
want them. -- For defense -- what else? We'll have most of our
eggs in that basket. No -- I don't know how we overlooked that
point. But if it wasn't for a bright young man out here we'd have
left ourselves wide open. Now get cracking -- get that leak
plugged!" Alexander dropped the phone back in its cradle and
sighed. "Well -- that's buttoned up," he said. "Thanks, Kennon."

Kennon looked at Alexander's grinning face, his own impassive,
but a shattering certainty exploded in his mind - Alexander was a
telepath! That was his difference! That was the thing that made
him feared and respected by his business associates. It wouldn't
have been enough on the Central Worlds, where men knew of
sensitives and took precautions against them. But out here on the
periphery it was a deadly advantage.

"So I gave it away," Alexander said. "I suppose I was careless,
but your thoughts about the moons shocked me."

"You practically told me once before, when you hired me," Kennon
said, "but I never realized it."

"You were too excited then."

"I wouldn't know," Kennon said. "At any rate I didn't add the
facts correctly." From somewhere deep in his memory an old quip
came floating to the surface: "An executive is a man who picks
brains -- others' brains." By that definition Alexander was an
executive of the first class. Alexander  chuckled.

Suddenly Kennon wanted to run. Panic flooded him! What had he
been thinking about? Had he thought of -- two times two are four,
four times four are sixteen, sixteen times sixteen are -- let's
see, six times sixteen is ninety-six, one times sixteen is --
six, five, carry one -- two -- two hundred fifty-six. Two hundred
fifty-six times--

"What's eating you?" Alexander demanded.

"I'm angry," Kennon said. "I told you the conditions I'd sign
that contract, and you wrote a Peeper Clause into it. And then
you peep in the worst way possible. There's no defense against a
Telep unless you know about him; you've had my whole mind bare!
You've violated my personal privacy like no man has done before.
Sure I'm mad. I expected honesty from you -- and you peep!" The
anger was stronger now -- a wave of raw emotion based on a
lifetime of training in mutual respect of a man's privacy -- a
feeling intensified by his childhood environment of a crowded
planetary ecology and the cramped crew quarters on a spaceship.
To Kennon, Alexander had committed the ultimate sin.

"I can see I made a mistake by not telling you," Alexander said.
His voice was cold. "But you have no right to insult me."

"I'm not saying it, am I?" Kennon snapped. The moonflower on the
bookcase behind Alexander was a thing of beauty. Alexander liked
beauty. He had said so, and the Great Hall below them bore it
out. It was a lovely room. Those four bronze Lani in the fountain
were works of art. One of them looked remarkably like Copper.
Copper in bronze. The little witch had probably posed for the
casting. Maybe it had even been made from her body.

"They're all of Susy," Alexander said. "I can see why you are
angry, and I don't blame you. But remember I warned you about
Lani."

Copper -- Kennon wrenched his thoughts back to the moonflower. It
had twelve petals, limpid white on the borders shading to deep
blue in the center-from which the cream-colored stamen surrounded
by transparent pistils sprang to burst into a golden glory of
pollen that dripped in tiny yellow flecks to the broad petals
below. It was a magnificent flower. There was nothing like it on
Beta. That was a marvelous thing about flowers -- wherever one
went in the universe, plants used the same methods to fertilize
their seed and spread their germ plasm. It was too bad that --
Kennon jerked his attention to Alexander's face. He detested the
thought that his mind was common property. A man should have
something he can call his own. There had been a clinics
instructor in Year Six who was a sensitive. The classes had
protected themselves against his prying with a circlet -- a
thought screen -- he had done it too. Maybe he had brought the
circlet with him. If he did, no one was going to catch him
without it. It was a dirty business, this reading of others'
thought. Now where had he put that circlet? Was it among his old
books -- or was it with his instruments?

"Why don't you go back to your house and find it?" Alexander
snapped. "As you are, you're nothing but a disruption. I want you
in on this meeting, but not the way you're acting."

"I'm not going to act any other way until I get some protection
from peeping," Kennon said grimly. "And if you think this is bad
wait till I start going through comparative anatomy.''

"What's the matter with you two?" Blalok asked.

"Be quiet," Alexander snapped. "This isn't your problem. Kennon
is behaving like a spoiled child!"

"He's a telepath!" Kennon said. "And he didn't tell me."

"So what? I've known that for years."

"And you stand for it?"

"I'm a Mystic, not a Betan," Blalok said. "I don't have your
insane desire for privacy."

"Go find that thought screen if you still have if!" Alexander
said. "I don't want any more of this. You're making me ill!"

Kennon grinned thinly as he rose to his feet. It was a good thing
he remembered Alexander was squeamish and didn't like anatomy.
The door was to his left, an iris door with eight leaves --
terribly old-fashioned. About ten steps away. Count them -- one
-- two -- three--

Alexander sighed as Kennon left the room. "I certainly pushed the
panic button on that young man," he said. "He has a pathological
attitude toward telepathy. Wonder what he has to hide that he
wants privacy so badly? Even for a Betan this reaction was
violent."

"Oh, I don't know. He's a pretty emotional sort. Maybe he hates
to look like a fool. He's gotten himself mixed up with one of the
Lani. Cute little thing by the name of Copper," Blalok said.

"Oh -- that's it. I thought that was what he was hiding. A
picture of a girl kept popping up." Alexander chuckled. "I
suppose that's the trouble. A man hardly likes to look a fool,
particularly to someone who has warned him. At that, I don't
blame him. They are beautiful and affectionate. And even with
their superstitions and tabus they're better than most humans."

"For pets," Blalok said heavily.

"They're not better at anything," Jordan demurred. "They can't be
-- man is the best and always will be."

"The eternal racial chauvinist," Alexander murmured. He turned
his attention to Blalok. "But for awhile, Evald, I'd suggest you
keep an eye on our young man. I still don't like his reaction. It
was too violent -- too defensive. I don't feel right about it.
Perhaps Betans are more sensitive than most people but it seems
to me that he's trying to conceal something. There was an
undertone of fear -- and something else -- beneath his defenses."

"Couldn't you get any more than that?" Blalok asked. "You're
pretty good at this mind-reading business."

"His defenses were remarkably good," Alexander said dryly.

* * *

Well he'd done it now, Kennon thought. He found the
thought-screen circlet sandwiched between two books on
comparative neuroanatomy which he hadn't bothered to unpack. He
slipped it on and connected the lead wires to a portable battery
pack. There was a half-forgotten tingling as the weak field
heterodyned his thought waves. Kennon sighed. If Alexander wasn't
suspicious of him now the man was a fool. He'd done as well as he
could with confusion and outrage, but it was hardly possible to
hide behind superficialities. Even the most disciplined mind
couldn't do that without some preparation. Undoubtedly his
concern about Copper had leaked through. He could only hope that
other and more important things had not.

Well -- he could go back to the conference now, but he would have
to be doubly careful from now on. He couldn't make daily trips to
Olympus. His reaction had killed that plan. Alexander would be
suspicious now -- and unusual actions would crystallize suspicion
to certainty. Now he needed a reason to be in that area. And then
he grinned. He had a reason -- a good one -- one that would fit
in with Alexander's plans and his own. The only problem would be
to make Alexander buy it -- and that might be difficult. He'd
have to work carefully -- but with normal luck he could put the
idea across. He crossed his fingers as he trudged back up the
path to Alexandria.

The conference dragged on. Unlike most meetings, this one
accomplished things -- which was a tribute to Alexander's ability
to keep the subject in hand. Details of the expansion program
presented by Alexander were rapidly reduced to workable plans.
They involved some rearrangement of existlng facilities, and the
construction of others. But the obvious snags were rapidly
disposed of, and the whole revamped operation was outlined on
paper in surprisingly few hours. A deadline date was set,
construction was authorized, and in the morning the first steps
in the practical implementation of the new program would be
taken.

"Well, that's that," Alexander said with a sigh. "I think this
calls for a drink."

"There's one more thing," Kennon said. "I know it isn't much, but
Jordan's remark started me thinking."

"What remark?" Jordan asked.

"The one you made at the beginning about Phoebe possibly being
like the Olympus Station. I've often wondered why that particular
location has been so difficult to operate. Sure, I know the
accepted explanation, but I think we should learn why it works
and how to break a tabu. If we don't, we might be in for
trouble."

"That's a good thought," Alexander said. "I tried to find out
once, but all I could discover was that it was tabu. The Lani
simply didn't like it. And despite the fact that I can read
minds, I didn't learn any more than that. There's a certain
sex-linkage to telepathy, as you probably know."

Kennon nodded.

"All I could discover was that their dislike of Olympus was a
basic emotion rather than reasoned thought. They were nervous,
irritable, disobedient, and uncooperative while they were there
-- and even they didn't know why. It was merely tabu. We even
tried youngsters -- but the attitude was the same. I'd like to
know more about that basic emotion."

"We should understand it," Kennon agreed. "If we transship a
large number of Lani to a strange world, we should know their
deepest motivations. We cannot take the chance that the
transplant won't take, with all the money you're sinking into
this project."

"You have a point there. Have you any suggestions about how to
accomplish this?" Alexander's voice was interested.

"I have. Hire a psychologist. And reopen Olympus."

"It'll be the same story," Jordan said.

"Not if you apply experimental procedure," Kennon said. "Divide
the place into a number of separate units in which groups of --
say ten -- Lani of various ages are kept. Let every group know
where they are, but don't let them come in contact with one
another. Observe them constantly. Put spy cells in the units.
Couple them to recorders. Prepare a set of test situations and
observe how each group performs. Question individuals under
narcosynthesis. Observe and record any changes in physical
condition -- give them the works. Maybe we can collect some basic
data that will indicate the answer."

"Not a bad idea," Alexander said.

"I don't like it," Jordan said. "It sounds cumbersome."

"It is," Kennon agreed. "But it may save a great deal of trouble
later."

"I think you're right, Kennon," Blalok said. "We should know
everything we can."

"What would you do first if you were heading this program?"
Alexander asked. He eyed Kennon critically.

"Nothing," Kennon said promptly. "I'm not qualified to run an
investigation like this. You need a specialist. I am a
practitioner."

"Hmm -- but you know experimental procedure."

"Naturally -- but I do not have the training to prepare a program
or evaluate its results. The only thing I could do would be to
check the physical condition of the experimental groups."

"Could you set up the physical facilities?" Alexander asked.

"Possibly -- I'd need a set of plans of the station, and I
couldn't guarantee that the specialist wouldn't want to make
changes. But the physical arrangements should be simple enough to
construct."

"How long would it take you to prepare a plan?"

"I could have it by tomorrow, or perhaps a day later."

"If you can do it by then I'll stay over. I'd like to examine
this proposal more closely. It has merit. That's the second
constructive suggestion you've made tonight. Despite your
peculiar desire for privacy, I'm glad you came back." Alexander
smiled.

Kennon smiled back. Apparently the entrepreneur had taken the
bait. But it was too early to tell whether he had swallowed it
without reservation. It all depended upon how much had been given
away before he had discovered that Alexander was a telepath.
Perhaps Alexander was merely leading him on. There were too many
intangibles, and there was no way of predicting how it would turn
out. But he felt mildly optimistic.

Alexander closed the meeting, and Kennon left promptly. He had a
good excuse. There was plenty of work to do if he was going to
prepare an adequate plan for utilizing Olympus Station. Jordan
went with him, but Blalok stayed behind. It was natural enough.
Blalok was the administrator, but Kennon felt uneasy. Nor would
he have felt any better if he could have heard what went on after
he left.

Alexander looked quizzically at Blalok after the door closed
behind the two men.

"Well, Evald, what do you think? Does it strike you that Kennon's
sincere -- or does it sound as though he has something up his
sleeve?"

"If he does," Blalok said, "I don't know what it could be. I
wouldn't take a job on Olympus if you gave it to me."

"If he doesn't know about the place," Alexander said
thoughtfully, "it's probable that his suggestion was honest. I
think it is but I'm not sure. He worries me now that I can't read
him. I think I'll send Douglas back here to watch him."

"Why? In my book that'd be a poor choice. After all, you said
Kennon saved his life. He should be grateful."

"You don't know Douglas," Alexander said. "He hates Kennon's guts
for what he did."

"What did he do?"

"He made Douglas feel inferior. And there's no surer way to gain
my cousin's undying enmity." Alexander laughed. "I know," he
said. "He'd like to kill me, too."

Blalok shrugged.

"But in the meantime I want you to keep an eye on Kennon. If his
outline is all right, I'm going to authorize him to set up this
experiment. I want to give him every possible chance. I like him
-- and he's done good work. I wouldn't want him to feel that I
distrust him."

"Which you do, of course," Blalok said dryly.

Alexander smiled. "Actually," he said with equal dryness, "I
distrust everyone."

CHAPTER XVI

"If you think this job is easy, you have another think coming,"
Kennon said bitterly. "I hired out as a veterinarian, not as a
nursemaid for a bunch of psychoneurotic humans and superstitious
Lani. The place is jinxed, they tell me. -- Ha! Jinxed! Sure it's
jinxed! What job wouldn't be with a bunch of goofballs like these
I've got working on it.

"I can't keep a Lani here for two weeks without having her throw
a catfit, and the superstitious idiots are affecting the men --
who ought to know better! I wish I'd never have opened my big
mouth to Alexander! As far as I'm concerned he can take this job
and--"

"Hey -- take it easy, man!" Blalok said. "You're heading straight
for a nervous breakdown."

"And why shouldn't I?" Kennon asked. "Nothing goes right. There's
always trouble. I order materials -- they don't arrive. There's
worker trouble, equipment trouble, installation trouble.
Everybody's cutting corners, trying to get done faster and away
sooner -- and all they do is mess up work that should have been
done right the first time. We should have been finished last
week, but we have another week to go, at least unless some
bumble-fingered beanbrain gets another bright idea that sets us
back again. I'm sick to death of it!"

"I know, I know," Blalok said soothingly, "and I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What good is that? You and Jordan come up here in relays.
Just what do you think you'll find? Or has Alexander dragged you
into keeping an eye on me because I don't like someone snooping
inside my skull?"

"It's not that," Blalok said. "It's just----"

"Oh, don't make excuses. You know and I know the Boss-man is
suspicious." Kennon shrugged. "Normally I wouldn't blame him but
it's a damned nuisance with things the way they are. All we have
is one more bay and a hall to finish - but if---- "

"Now wait a minute," Blalok said. "Get the kink out of your neck
and simmer down. Sure -- the Boss-man told us to keep an eye on
you -- but that's not why I'm here this time."

"Well?"

"Douglas came back this morning."

"What for?"

"I don't know." Blalok's face wore the noncommittal look it
always wore when he was taking liberties with the truth.

"You're probably the worst liar in the galaxy," Kennon chuckled.
"He's here to breathe down my neck, isn't he?"

Blalok nodded.

"Keep him off my back for another week and he can breathe all he
wants to. I'll be done then."

"I can't promise a thing."

Kennon shrugged. "It's too much to ask, I guess."

"But I can try," Blalok added.

"That's enough for me." Kennon grinned. "Has he turned Alexandria
into a shambles yet?"

"Not yet, but everyone's uneasy."

"I can't blame them. That young fellow's undiluted poison. By the
way, how does he look?"

"About the same."

"The medics must have done a good job," Kennon said.

"The Boss-man shipped him to Beta for treatment," Blalok said.
"He didn't trust the docs out here."

"That figures. At any rate Douglas couldn't have gone to a better
place."

"What happened to him?"

"He stuck his nose where he shouldn't," Kennon said pointedly.

Blalok stiffened.

"I'm sorry, Evald. Even if you knew, I couldn't talk about it.
What I know about Douglas is classified!"

"Well -- Douglas is doing plenty of talking. Claims his stay in
the hospital was all your fault."

Kennon shrugged. "That's his opinion. And as long as he stays out
of my way he's welcome to it."

Blalok looked at Kennon's haggard face with mild concern, "Doc,"
he said, "you'd better take it easy. You're going to pieces."

"I'll be through here in another week, I'll have this all wrapped
up."

"Providing you're not wrapped up first."

"Eh?"

"In a shroud. You look like a walking corpse."

Kennon chuckled wearily. "Sometimes I feel like one. But I'd like
to get this job finished."

"Well, I'll do what I can," Blalok said. "I'll try to keep him
down at Alexandria for a few days."

"It'll be enough," Kennon said. More than enough -- he added
mentally. The coils of fuel wire were ready to load, and the
power slugs for the ship's reactor were already stored in the
power plant building here at Olympus. Three more days and the old
spacer would be as ready to fly as she would ever be. And after
that, it was in the lap of fate.

He ushered Blalok to his jeep and watched until he disappeared.

"I'm getting to be a first-class liar," he remarked wryly to
himself as he turned back to the temporary quarters he was
occupying at the station. "And the bad thing about it is that I'm
actually enjoying it."

A few weeks ago an admission like that would have been
inconceivable. It was odd, he thought, how one thing led to
another and produced an end that could not be foreseen. Now he
could lie and dissemble with the best. He had no compunction
about falsifying a requisition, or stealing what he could not
obtain with apparent honesty. His character had sunk to an
all-time low, he reflected with grim humor as he walked into the
shadow of the main building. Neither Blalok's nor Jordan's
frequent visits bothered him. Both men were creatures of habit
and both were married. They stayed home at night -- and it was
nighttime that he worked on the spacer. The project afforded him
a perfect cover and it was only minutes by jeep away from the
crater.

Even so, the double duty was an appalling task. And it would have
been impossible if it wasn't for Copper. Her quick fingers, keen
eyesight, and uncanny memory made the work seem simple, and
neither the tediousness of repairing miles of circuitry nor the
depressing environment of Olympus Station seemed to bother her.
While he worked with the men on the project she restored and
reassembled circuits in his quarters and at night they replaced
them in the old ship. And the God-Egg was rapidly becoming
operational.

Kennon wondered what it was about Copper that made her so
different from the rest. Olympus didn't bother her at all. In
fact she seemed to thrive on the depressing atmosphere that
filled the Station. Perhaps it was because she had violated the
tabu about the God-Egg so often that ordinary superstition had no
effect upon her. He shrugged. He had  troubles enough without
worrying about Copper's motivations, and not the least of these
was taking the God-Egg into space.

Kennon looked forward to blast-off with distinct misgivings.
There was too much about the ancient spacer that was strange --
and too much that was terrifying.

Basically the ship was an ion-jet job with atomic primaries and a
spindizzy converter that might possibly take her up as high as
middle yellow Cth -- far enough to give her a good turn of speed,
but not enough to compensate for timelag. Her screens were
monstrosities, double polyphase lattices that looked about as
spacetight as so many sieves. There were no acceleration dampers,
no temporal compensators, no autopilot, no four-space computer,
and the primaries operated on nuclear rather than binding energy.
The control chairs weren't equipped with forcefields, but instead
had incredibly primitive safety webs that held one in place by
sheer tensile strength. Taking a ship like that into space was an
open invitation to suicide. A man needed a combination of
foolhardy bravery and incredible fatalism to blast off in a can
like this. He had the stimulus, but the knowledge of what he
would face troubled him more than he cared to admit. More and
more, as he understood the ship, he was amazed at the courage of
the ancients who had blithely leaped into hyperspace in these
flying coffins with no more motivation than to see what was
beyond the nearest star. And in ships more primitive than this
men had swept through the star systems nearest Earth in the
outward expansion of the First Millennium.

He sighed. The breed of man must have been tough in the old days
-- and he'd soon be finding out if any of that ancient toughness
remained.

He opened the door to his quarters.

Copper was sitting in his favorite chair, a pile of completed
assemblies neatly stacked beside her, and a disorderly file of
crumpled cloth at her feet. Her face was sullen as she looked up
at him. "I've had about all of this I'm going to take," she said
mutinously as she stirred the heap of cloth with a bare foot.
"Not even you are going to make me wear those -- things!"

Kennon sighed. It was the same old story. For months he had been
trying patiently to indoctrinate Copper with a minimum of
civilized habits, but she was quite literally a savage. In her
entire lifetime she had never worn clothing, and to encase her
body in hose, kilts, blouse, and sandals was a form of torture.
She scratched, wiggled, and twisted at the garments until she
looked as bad as she felt, and would usually finish a session by
tearing off the offending clothes and sulking. She was doing it
now.

"You must act like a civilized human being," Kennon said mildly.
"You're simply going to have to learn to wear these clothes
properly."

"Why? I'm more comfortable as I am."

"That's not the point. You are going to be living in human
society and you must act human. The only planet where you could
get away with nudity is Santos, and we're not going there."

"Why not?"

"I've explained it time and again. We'll have to go to Beta.
That's the only place I know where you'll have a fair hearlng.
And on Beta people wear clothes. They have to. It's cold, even in
summer, and in the wintertime, there's snow."

"What's snow?"

"Ice crystals that fall like rain, but I've told you this
before."

"And I still don't believe it."

"Believe it or not you're going to wear those things. Now put
them on!"

She looked at him with mutiny on her face. "All right, slave
driver," she muttered as she picked up the clothing, "but I hope
you'll itch someday and be unable to scratch."

"And try to wear those garments more gracefully. You make them
look like a sack."

"They feel like one. I keep thinking that all I need is a tag
around my neck."

"You haven't much time to get used to them," Kennon said. "We're
leaving this week."

"So soon?"

"Yes -- and you'll wear those things to the ship, into the ship,
and all the time we're on the ship. You'll keep wearing clothing
until it looks right."

"Slave driver!" Copper hissed.

"Slave," Kennon answered equably.

Copper giggled. The sound was utterly unexpected, and completely
incongruous. That was the wonder of her, Kennon reflected. Her
mercurial temperament made life something that was continually
exciting She was a never-ending delight.

CHAPTER XVII

It was the last trip. Kennon loaded the jeep with the last-minute
items he would need. The four reactor cores in their lead cases
went aboard last and were packed inside a pile of lead-block
shielding.

He helped Copper in and looked back without regret as the bulk of
Olympus Station vanished below him in the dusk. The last of the
work crew had left that afternoon. The station was ready for
occupancy. His assignment had been completed. He felt an odd
pleasure at having finished the job. Alexander might not be happy
about his subsequent actions, but he could have no complaint
about what he did while he was here.

"Well -- say good-bye to Flora," he said to Copper.

"I don't want to," she said. "I don't want to leave."

"You can't stay. You know that."

She nodded. "But that doesn't make me any less regretful."

"Regretful?"

"All right -- scared. We're going to try to make the God-Egg fly
again. Not only is it sacrilege, but as you've often said, it's
dangerous. I have no desire to die."

"You have two courses---"

"I know -- you've pointed them out often enough," Copper said.
"And since you decided to go I'd go with you even though I knew
the Egg would blow up."

"You're quite a girl," Kennon said admiringly. "Did I ever tell
you that I love you?"

"Not nearly often enough," Copper said. "You could do it every
day and I'd never get tired of hearing it."

The jeep settled over the lava wall. "We'll leave it in the
passageway when we're through," Kennon said. "Maybe it will
survive blast-off."

"Why worry about it?" Copper asked.

"I hate destroying anything needlessly," Kennon said.

"And since we have plenty of time, we might as well be neat about
our departure."

He was wrong, of course, but he didn't know that.

* * *

Douglas Alexander checked the radarscope and whistled in surprise
at the picture it revealed. "So that's where he's going," he said
softly to himself. "Cousin Alex was right as usual." He grimaced
unpleasantly. "He's up to something -- that's for sure." His face
twisted into an expression that was half sneer, half triumph.
"This is going to be fun." He moved the control, and his airboat,
hovering silently at five thousand meters, dropped toward the
ground in free fall as Douglas loosened the Burkholtz in the
holster at his waist. "But what is he doing?" he muttered. The
question hung unanswered in the still air of the cabin as the
airboat dropped downward.

Douglas hadn't been impressed with Blalok's attempt at a delaying
action. Normally he might have been, but his fear of his cousin
was greater than his respect for Blalok. The superintendent had
only succeeded in accomplishing something he had not intended
when he had tried to dissuade Douglas from visiting Kennon. He
had made Douglas cautious. The airboat and long-range
surveillance had been the result. For the past two nights Douglas
had hung over Olympus Station, checking the place -- to leave at
dawn when the new day's work began. For two nights Kennon had
been lucky. He had departed for the Egg shortly before Douglas
took up his station, and had returned after the watcher had
called it a night and had returned home. But this last night,
Kennon left late -- and his departure was noted.

"Wonder who's the girl with him?" Douglas said as the boat
plunged down. "Well, I'll be finding out in a minute."

Kennon's head jerked upward at the sound of air whistling past
the airboat's hull, and a wave of icy coldness swept through his
chest. There was no question that he was discovered. His
shoulders sagged.

"Well -- it was a good try," he said bitterly as Copper looked at
him with sudden terror on her face.

"I don't want to die," she wailed.

"You won't -- not if I can help it," Kennon said. "Move away from
me -- quickly!"

"But--"

"Do as I say!" Kennon's voice was sharp. "And keep that hood over
your face."

The airboat settled softly on the ash in front of him, the door
snapped open and Douglas dropped to the ground, Burkholtz jutting
from his pudgy fist.

"My, my," Douglas said, "what have we here? Dr. Kennon and a
woman! I thought better of you than that, Doctor. And all dressed
up in antiradiation suits. This is interesting. Just what are you
doing up here on the mountain so late at night -- prospecting?"

"You might call it that," Kennon said. His body sagged with
relief. Douglas thank Ochsner it was Douglas! He was running true
to form -- talking when he should have been shooting.

Douglas jerked his head toward Copper, standing a few feet to his
left. "Who is she?"

"None of your business," Kennon snapped, hoping that his outburst
covered Copper's gasp of surprise and fear, and knowing that it
didn't.

"I'm making it my business. There's something funny going on
around here."

Kennon blinked. Could it be that Douglas didn't know? Had he been
watching them on radar? Durilium was radar-transparent. It
absorbed and dissipated electromagnetic waves rather than
reflecting them. For a second he felt a tiny surge of hope.

"Stand where you are," Douglas said as he stepped over to the
half-paralyzed Copper and jerked the hood back from her face. For
a moment he looked puzzled. "Just who are you?" he demanded. "I
don't recall seeing you before." And then recognition dawned.
"Old Doc's Lani!" he gasped.

"She works for me now," Kennon said.

Douglas laughed. It wasn't a nice sound. "All dressed up?" he
asked. "Nice work."

"That's my fault," Kennon said.

"You know the rules," Douglas said. "I could blast you both."

"Go ahead," Kennon said, "but if you do, you'll never find out
what we're doing up here."

Douglas hesitated. Kennon's voice was flat and filled with utter
conviction.

"There's a reason why Copper's wearing that suit," Kennon
continued, "and you won't know that either."

The Burkholtz swiveled around to point at Kennon's belly. "I've
had about enough of this. Let's have it. Tell me what you're
doing here!"

"I'll do better than that," Kennon said promptly. "I'll show you.
You'll be surprised at what we've uncovered." He made his muscles
relax, and forced himself to speak naturally. Copper, he noted,
was still rigid with terror. The Alexanders -- any of them --
were everything he had said they were. They were the masters
here. And despite Copper's boast, she was as susceptible to their
influence as any other Lani.

"All right," Douglas said, "show me this thing I'd never be able
to find without your help." He half turned to Copper. "Stay where
you are, Lani," he said. "Don't move until I come back."

"Yes, Man Douglas," Copper replied. Her voice was flat,
colorless, and submissive.

Kennon shuddered. He had never heard precisely that tone from her
before. One word from Douglas and she had become a zombie -- a
mindless muscle preparation that existed only to obey. Anger
filled him -- anger that one he loved could be ordered by someone
who wasn't worth a third of her -- anger that she obeyed -- anger
at his own impotence and frustration. It wasn't a clean anger. It
was a dark, red-splashed thing that struggled and writhed inside
him, a fierce unreasoning rage that seethed and bubbled yet could
not break free. For an instant, with blinding clarity, Kennon
understood the feelings of the caged male Lani on Otpen One. And
he sympathized.

"Follow me," he said and started around the ship.

"Stay -- no -- go ahead," Douglas said, "but remember, I'm right
behind you."

Kennon walked straight up to the pit and pointed down at the dark
bulk of the Egg., concealed in the shadows of the bottom.

"That's it" he said.

"What? I don't see anything," Douglas said suspiciously.

"Here -- I'll shine a light." Kennon reached for his belt.

"No you don't! I know that trick. You're not going to blind me.
Take that torch loose carefully -- that's it -- now hand it to
me." Douglas' hand closed over the smooth plastic. Cautiously he
turned on the beam and directed it downward.

"A spacer!" he gasped. "How did that get here?" He leaned forward
to look into the pit as a dark shadow materialized behind him.

Kennon choked back the involuntary cry of warning that rose in
his throat. Copper! His muscles tensed as her arm came up and
down -- a shadow almost invisible in the starlight. The leaning
figure of Douglas collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been
suddenly released. The torch dropped from his hand and went
bouncing and winking down the wall of the pit, followed by
Douglas -- a limp bundle of arms and legs that rotated
grotesquely as he disappeared down the slope. Starlight gleamed
on the Burkholtz lying on the lip of the crater, where it had
fallen from his hand.

"I told you that not even Man Alexander could order me since I
gave my love to you," Copper said smugly as she peered over the
edge of the pit, a chunk of lava gripped in one small capable
hand. "Maybe this proves it."

"Douglas isn't Alexander," Kennon said slowly as he picked up the
blaster, "but I believe you."

"Didn't I act convincingly?" she said brightly.

"Very," he said. "You fooled me completely."

"The important thing was that I fooled Douglas."

"You did that all right. Now let's get him out of that pit."

"Why?"

"The jet blast will fry him when we take off."

"What difference would that make?"

"I told you," Kennon said, "that I never destroy things
unnecessarily -- not even things like Douglas."

"But he would have destroyed you."

"That's no excuse for murder. Now go back to the jeep and fetch a
rope. I'll go down and get him out."

"Do we have to bother with him?" Copper asked, and then shrugged.
It was an eloquent gesture expressing disgust, resignation, and
unwilling compliance in one lift of smoothly muscled shoulders.

"There's no question about it," Kennon said. "You're becoming
more human every day."

He chuckled as he slid over the edge of the pit following the
path Douglas had taken a moment before. He found him sitting on a
pile of ashes, shaking his head.

"What happened?" Douglas asked querulously. There was fear in his
voice.

"Copper hit you on the head with a rock," Kennon said as he bent
over and retrieved the torch, still burning near Douglas' feet.

"The Lani?" Douglas' voice was incredulous.

"Not a Lani," Kennon corrected. "She's as human as you or I."

"That's a lie," Douglas said.

"Maybe this spacer's a lie too. Her ancestors came in it -- a
pair of humans named Alfred and Melissa Weygand. They were
Christian missionaries from a planet called Heaven out in
Ophiuchus Sector. Went out to convert aliens and landed here when
their fuel ran out." Kennon paused. "That was about four
millennia ago. Their descendants, naturally, reverted to
barbarism in a few generations, but there's enough evidence in
the ship to prove that the Lani were their children.''

"But the tails -- the differences -- the failure of the test,"
Douglas said.

"Mutation," Kennon replied. "Those old spindizzy converters
weren't too choosy about how they scattered radiation. And they
had come a long way." He paused, looking down at Douglas, feeling
a twinge of pity for the man. His world was crumbling. "And there
was no other human blood available to filter out their
peculiarities. It might have been done during the first couple of
generations, but constant inbreeding fixed the genetic pattern."

"How did you discover this?" Douglas asked.

"Accident," Kennon said briefly.

"You'll never be able to prove they're human!" Douglas said.

"The ship's log will do that."

"Not without a humanity test -- they can't pass that."

"Sorry to disappoint you. Your grandfather used the wrong sort of
sperm. Now if there had been a Betan in the crew--"

"You mean she's pregnant!"

Kennon nodded. "There's been mutation on Beta," he said. "And
it's apparently a similar one to hers. Betan-Lani matings are
fertile."

Douglas's shoulders sagged, and then straightened. "I don't
believe it," he said. "You're just a damned sneaking spy. Somehow
or other you got a spacer in here after you wormed your way into
Cousin Alex's confidence -- and now you're going to space out
with the nucleus of a new farm. Just wait. When Alex learns of
this the galaxy'll be too small to hold you."

"Don't babble like a fool!" Kennon said with disgust. "How could
I land a spacer here without being spotted? You sound like a
two-credit novel. And even if I did -- would it be a can like
this?" Kennon played the torch over the blue-black durilium
protruding from the ashes.

Douglas' eyes widened as he took in the details of construction.
"What an antique!" he blurted. "Where did you get this can?"

"I found it here."

"Tell me another one."

"You won't believe," Kennon said flatly, "because you don't dare
believe. You have a mental block. You've killed, maimed, tortured
-- treated them like animals -- and now your mind shrinks from
admitting they're human. You know what will happen if the old
court decision is reversed. It will wreck your little empire, dry
up your money, break you -- and you can't stand the thought of
that. You don't dare let us leave, yet you can't stop us because
I have your blaster and I'd just as soon shoot you as look at
your rotten face. Now get on your feet and start climbing if you
want to stay alive. We're getting out of here, and you'll fry
inside this pit."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Back to your airboat. I'm going to tie you up and set you off on
autopilot. You'll be able to get loose quickly enough but it'll
be too late to stop us. We'll be gone, and you can think of how
you'll manage to face the human race."

"I hope you blow yourself and that antique clear out of space."

"We might. But you'll never know for sure. But mark this -- if I
live I'll be back with the Brotherhood. You can count on it."

They struggled up the side of the pit and halted, panting, on the
rim. "How much radiation was down there?" Douglas asked
worriedly.

"Not enough to hurt you."

"That's good." Douglas accepted the statement at face value, a
fact which failed to surprise Kennon. "You know," he said, "I've
been around Lani all my life. And I know that they're not human.
No self-respecting human would take a tenth of what they put up
with."

"Their ancestors didn't," Kennon said. "They fought to the end.
But your Grandfather was a smart man even though he was a
Degrader."

"He wasn't!" Douglas exploded. "No Alexander is a Degrader."

"He realized," Kennon went on, "that he'd never succeed in
enslaving the Lani unless he separated the sexes. And since women
are more subjective in their outlook -- and more pliable -- he
picked them for his slaves. The males he retired to stud.
Probably the fact that there were more women than men helped him
make up his mind.

"In every society," Kennon went on inexorably, "there are
potential freeman and potential slaves. The latter invariably
outnumber the former. They're cowards: the timid, the
unsacrificing -- the ones that want peace at any price -- the
ones who will trade freedom for security. Those were the ones who
hid rather than risk their lives fighting the aggressor. Those
were the ones who survived. Old Alexander had a ready-made slave
cadre when be finished off the last of the warriors. For four
centuries the survivors have been bred and selected to perpetuate
slave traits. And the system works. The men don't want freedom --
they want liberty to kill each other. The women don't want
freedom -- they want males. And they'd serve them precisely as
the Sarkian women serve their menfolk. You've killed any chance
they had to become a civilization. It's going to take generations
perhaps before they're reoriented. There's plenty you Alexanders
should answer for."

"If there's any fault, it's yours," Douglas snarled. "We were
doing all right until you came here. We'd still be doing all
right if I had shot you both." His shoulders sagged. "I should
have killed you when I had the chance," he said bitterly.

"But you didn't," Kennon said, "and to show my gratitude I'm
letting you get away with a whole skin. I don't expect you to be
grateful, but at least you'll not be on my conscience. I don't
enjoy killing, not even things like you."

Douglas sneered. "You're soft -- a soft sentimental fool."

"Admitted," Kennon said, "but that's my nature."

"Yet you'd destroy the family, wreck Outworld Enterprises, and
throw a whole world into chaos over a few thousand animals. I
don't understand you."

"They're human," Kennon said flatly.

"Admitting they might once have been, they're not now."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Not ours," Douglas said promptly. "If there is any fault it's
that of the court who decided they were humanoid."

"You didn't help any."

"Why should we? Does one treat a shrake like a brother? ---or a
varl? ---or a dog? We treat them like the animals they are. And
we've done no worse with the Lani. Our consciences are clear."

Kennon laughed humorlessly. "Yet this clear conscience makes you
want to kill me, so you can keep on treating them as animals --
even though you know they're human."

"I know nothing of the sort. But you're right about the killing,
I'd kill you cheerfully if I had the chance. It's our necks if
you get away with this. Of course, you probably won't, but why
take the chance. I like my neck more than I like yours."

"You're honest at any rate," Kennon admitted. "And in a way I
don't blame you. To you it's probably better to be a rich slaver
living off the legacy of a Degrader than a penniless
humanitarian. But you've lost your chance."

Douglas screamed with rage. He whirled on Kennon, his face a
distorted mask of hate.

"Hold it!" Kennon barked. "I don't want to kill you, but I'll
burn a hole clear through your rotten carcass if you make another
move. I have no love for your kind."

Douglas spat contemptuously. "You haven't got the guts," he
snarled. But he didn't move.

"Just stand still -- very still," Kennon said softly. The iron in
his voice was not hidden by the quiet tone.

Douglas shivered. "I'll get you yet," he said, but there was no
force in the threat.

"Here's the rope you wanted," Copper said as she emerged abruptly
from the darkness. "I had a hard time finding it."

"You haven't been too long," Kennon said. "Now tie Douglas' hands
behind him while I keep him covered."

"It's a pleasure," Copper murmured.

CHAPTER XVIII

"I'm frightened," Copper said, twisting uncomfortably in the
shock chair beside Kennon's.

"After you have been so brave?" Kennon asked. "That's nonsense.
It's just nervous reaction. Now web in like I showed you. It's
time for blast-off. We don't dare wait much longer."

"All right -- but I have a feeling that this isn't right.
Something is going to go wrong."

"I hope you don't have precognition." Kennon smiled. "I've
checked everything. The ship is as good as she'll ever be.
There's nothing more that we can do."

"There's one consolation," Copper said wanly. "At we'll die
together."

"There's a better chance that we'll live together."

"I hope so."

"Ready?" Kennon asked.

She nodded.

He flipped the switches that would send the fuel rods into the
reactor. Below them a soft, barely audible whine ascended the
sonic scale to a point of irritating inaudibility. Kennon smiled.
The spindizzy was functioning properly. He flipped a second bank
of switches and a dull roar came from the buried stem. Ashes and
pumice heated to incandescence were blown through the air. Molten
drops of radioactive lava skittered across the durilium hull as
Kennon advanced the power. The whole stem of the ship was
immersed in a seething lake of bolling rock as the Egg lifted
slowly with ponderous dignity into the night sky.

"Hang on!" Kennon said. "I'm going to hyper." His hand moved a
red lever and the Egg shimmered and vanished with a peculiar
wrenching motion into an impossible direction that the mind could
not grasp. And the interceptor missile from Otpen One nosed
through the space the Egg had occupied.

* * *

"We made it!" Kennon said, looking across the writhing semifluid
control board, shifting oddly in the harsh yellow monochromatic
light that pervaded the cabin. The screens were leaking like
sieves, but they were holding well enough to keep Cth yellow from
being anything more than an annoyance. He glanced over at Copper,
a fantastically elongated Copper who looked like a madman's dream
of chaos.

And Copper screamed! The sound echoed and re-echoed, dying away
with a lingering discordant reverberation that made his skin
tingle.

"Copper! It's all right! It's all fight! Stop it!"

Copper screamed again and her elongated figure suddenly
foreshortened and collapsed into a small writhing ball from which
two small pink hands emerged clutching at a gelid mass of air
that flowed sluggishly around them.

And Kennon knew what he had forgotten! Hyperspace with leaky
screens was nothing to inflict upon an unprepared mind. It is one
thing to endure partial exposure after months of training, with
experienced medics standing by to help you through the shock
phase, but quite another to be thrust from a safe and sheltered
existence into the mind shattering distortions of the Cth
continuum.

The Egg was old. Her screens, never good at best, were hardly
more than filters. Through the hull, through the drive lattice,
the viciously distorted Cth environment seeped into the ship
turning prosaic shapes of controls and instruments into writhing
masses of obscene horror that sent extensions wiggling off into
nothingness at eye-aching angles. A spaceman could take this --
knowing it wasn't real -- but a tyro could not.

Copper collapsed. Her mind, assaulted by sensations no untrained
person should experience, went into shock. But she wasn't granted
the mercy of unconsciousness. Terrified by a pseudo reality that
surpassed her wildest nightmares, she stared wide-eyed at the
control room and the thing that had been Kennon. She screamed
until her throat was raw, until the monster beside her touched
her with Kennon's hands. Then, mercifully, she felt a stinging in
her arm and all sensation ceased.

Kennon stared glumly at the controls. Fleming alone knew how many
objective years were passing outside as they hurtled through
four-space. Subjectively it would only be hours aboard the Egg,
but a decade -- or maybe a century -- might pass outside this mad
universe where neither time nor speed had meaning. The old ships
didn't have temporal compensators, nor could they travel through
upper bands of Cth where subjective and objective time were more
nearly equal. They were trapped in a semi-stasis of time as the
ship fled on through the distorted monochromatic regions that
bypassed normal space.

The Egg slipped smoothly out of the hyper jump, back into the
normal universe. Beta floated above them, the blue shield of her
atmosphere shining softly in the light of Beta's sun.

"Couldn't hit it that good again in a hundred tries," Kennon
gloated. "Halfway across the galaxy -- and right on the nose." He
looked at the shock chair beside him. Copper was curled into a
tight ball inside the confining safety web, knees drawn up, back
bent, head down -- arms wrapped protectingly around her legs --
the fetal position of catatonic shock.

He shook her shoulder -- no response. Her pulse was thready and
irregular. Her breathing was shallow. Her lips were blue. Her
condition was obvious -- space shock -- extreme grade. She'd need
medical attention if she was going to live. And she'd need it
fast!

"Just why, you educated nitwit," he snarled at himself, "didn't
you have sense enough to give her that injection of Sonmol before
we hypered! You haven't the sense of a decerebrate Capellan
grackle!"

He turned on the radio. "Emergency!" he said. "Any station!
Space-shock case aboard. Extreme urgency."

"Identify yourself -- give your license. Over."

"What port are you?"

"Hunterstown -- will you please identify? Over."

"Your co-ordinates," Kennon snapped. "Over."

"280.45--67.29 plus. Repeat -- request your identification."

"Pilot Kennon, Jac, Beta 47M 26429. I have no I.D. for the ship
-- and you'll see why when I land. Over."

"Hunterstown Port to Kennon. You are not -- repeat not - cleared
to land. Go into orbit and report your position. Over."

"Sorry, Hunterstown. You wouldn't have checked in if you didn't
have room, and a hospital. This is an emergency. I'm setting
down. Out."

"But--" The words got no farther. Kennon was already spinning the
ship.

"All right -- we have you on the scope. But this is a class one
violation. You may come in on Landing Beam One."

"Sorry. I have no GCA."

"What? -- what sort of ship are you flying?" The voice was
curious.

"I'm matching intrinsics over your port. Talk me in when I break
through the overcast."

"Talk you in?"

"That's right. My instruments are obsolete."

"Great Halstead! What else?"

"I have an Ion drive. Plus two radioactive."

"Oh no! -- And you still want to come in?"

"I have to. My passenger's in shock. She's going to have a baby."

"All right -- I'll try to get you down in one piece."

"Have an ambulance ready," Kennon said.

Kennon lowered the Egg through the overcast. Ground control
picked him up smoothly and took him down as though it had been
rehearsed. The Egg touched down in the radioactive area of the
port. Decontamination jets hissed, sluicing the ship to remove
surface contamination.

"Ochsner! what sort of a ship is that?" Ground Control's startled
voice came over the annunciator.

"It's an old one," Kennon said.

"That's a gross understatement. Stand by for boarders. Ambulance
coming up."

Kennon opened the airlock and two radiation-suited men entered.
"At least you had sense enough to wear protective clothing in
this hotbox," one said as they carefully unwebbed Copper and
carried her out of the lock. "You wait here. The Port Captain
wants to see you."

"Where are you taking her? What Center?" Kennon asked.

"What should you care? You've nearly killed her. The idea of
taking a pregnant woman up in this death trap! What in Fleming's
name's the matter with your brain?"

"I had to," Kennon said. "I had to. It was a matter of life and
death." For once, he thought wryly, the cliche was true.

The Betan's face behind the transparent helmet was disgusted and
unbelieving. "I hear that sort of thing every day," he said. "Am
I supposed to believe it?"

"You'd believe it if you'd have been where I was," Kennon
muttered. "Now -- whe're are you taking her?" he demanded.

The man arched blond eyebrows. "To the local Medical Center --
where else? There's only one in this area."

"Thanks," Kennon said.

He watched the ambulance flit off as he waited for the Spaceport
Patrol. There was no further need for the protection suit, so he
peeled it off and hung it in the control-room locker. Copper was
right, he mused. It did itch.

The Port Captain's men were late as usual  - moving gingerly
through the radiation area. A noncom gestured for him to enter
their carryall. "Port Captain wants to see you," he said.

"I know," Kennon replied.

"You should have waited upstairs."

"I couldn't. It was a matter of medicine," Kennon said.

The noncom's face sobered. "Why didn't you say so? All you said
was that it was an emergency."

"I've been away. I forgot."

"You shouldn't have done that. You're a Betan, aren't you?"

Kennon nodded.

They drove to the Port Office, where Kennon expected - and got --
a bad time from the port officials. He filled out numerous forms,
signed affidavits, explained his unauthorized landing, showed his
spaceman's ticket, defended his act of piloting without an
up-to-date license, signed more forms, entered a claim for
salvage rights to the Egg, and finally when the Legal Division,
the Traffic Control Division, the Spaceport Safety Office,
Customs, Immigration, and Travelers Aid had finished with him, he
was ushered into the presence of the Port Captain.

The red-faced chunky officer eyed him with a cold stare. "You'll
be lucky, young man, if you get out of this with a year in
Correction. Your story doesn't hang together."

It didn't, Kennon thought. But there was no sense telling all of
it to a Port Captain. Under no circumstances could the man be any
help to him. He had neither the power nor the prestige to request
a Brotherhood Board of Inquiry. In rank, he was hardly more than
a glorified Traffic Control officer. It would do no good to tell
him an improbable tale of slavery on a distant planet. The only
thing to do was wait out the storm and hope it would pass. If
worst came to worst he'd use his rank, but he'd made enough stir
already. He doubted if the Captain had authority to order him
into Detention -- but he was certain to get a lecture. These
minor officials loved to tell someone off. He gritted his teeth.
He'd endure it for Copper's sake -- and to get out of here
quietly. Alexander would undoubtedly have agents posted by now,
and his only chance for temporary freedom of action was to get
out of here with as little fuss as possible.

He sat quietly, his flushed face and tight jaw muscles betraying
his impatience as the Captain paced up and down and talked on and
on. The man sounded like he could go for hours. With increasing
impatience Kennon listened to the cadenced flow of complaint and
condemnation, occasionally inserting a "Yes, sir" or "Sorry, sir"
or "No, sir" as the words flowed around him.

However, there had to be a breaking point somewhere, and the
monotony was beginning to wear his temper thin. Another five
minutes, he reflected, was about all he could take.

The door chime rang softly.

"Come in," the Port Captain said, breaking off in mid-tirade. The
change in his manner was so abrupt that Kennon couldn't help
smiling.

A young blond man in an interne's gray uniform entered the room.

"Yes, Doctor," the Port Captain said. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you have a Jac Kennon here? Dr. Jac Kennon?"

"Did you say doctor?" the Port Captain said in a half-strangled
voice.

"You never let me tell you," Kennon said mildly, "that my landing
here was a matter of medicine. Technically you have contributed
to a delay in treatment."

The Port Captain's face paled. "Why didn't you say something?" he
said.

"Against your gale of wind I would be but a faint breeze," Kennon
said coldly. He turned to the interne. 'Tm Dr. Kennon." They
bowed formally to each other.

"I'm Smalley, sir, from the medical center. Dr. Brainard sends
his compliments and requests that you join him for consultation."

"The Port Captain--" Kennon began.

"Don't worry about it, Doctor. I'll relinquish responsibility to
Dr. Brainard," the Captain said.

"I have placed a formal written request with your office,"
Smalley said stiffly. "You are relieved of further charge. Dr.
Kennon is urgently needed. It is a matter of medicine."

The Captain looked relieved. On Beta it was poor policy to
interfere with the doings of doctors and engineers -- or even
doctors of philosophy.

"Very well. He's yours -- and I'm glad to be rid of him." The
Port Captain bowed to Kennon and Smalley and stalked out of the
office.

"Pompous little man," Kennon observed, "but he certainly can
talk."

"Oh -- you know these Administrative people," the interne said
depreciatingly. "One mustn't mind them. They're necessary
nuisances." He eyed Kennon curiously. "How is it that you didn't
stand on your professional rights?"

"I have my reasons -- but they have nothing to do with medicine."

"Oh -- I see. Ethical." The interne's voice was faintly
sarcastic.

"Manners, Doctor -- manners." Kennon's voice was gentle but the
interne flushed a dull red.

"Sorry, sir."

"Don't mention it. It's normal for a graduate to confuse liberty
with license." Kennon smiled. "Don't worry. I shan't report you."

"That's good of you, sir." Smalley's face registered relief.
Demerits were difficult to erase -- particularly ones of
courtesy.

Kennon wondered if the young man would report himself. He doubted
it. The interne didn't look the type -- probably he was dated for
some obscure job, like a general practitioner. He shrugged. It
took all kinds to make a profession. Even the Smalleys had their
place.

"That girl you brought in," Smalley said as they entered a white
car emblazoned with the three crosses, red, blue, and green, that
represented the three fields of medicine. "She's an interesting
case. I've never seen space shock before. And the patient herself
-- one would hardly believe she was a Betan."

"She isn't," Kennon said.

"So?" Blond eyebrows rose in inverted U's of surprise. "But
that's hardly possible. Our tests indicate-"

"Don't you think that this is a matter for Dr. Brainard?" Kennon
said icily. "Protocol--"

"Of course. Stupid of me -- but the case is so interesting. Half
the center staff have seen her already. I wasn't proposing to
discuss the case. It wouldn't be proper. Even though you are only
a veterinarian."

"Only?" Kennon's voice was hard. "I shouldn't have to remind you
of this, Mr. Smalley -- but I have been for the past two years on
a world of bad manners. I expected better here at home."

Smalley flushed to the roots of his straw-colored hair. "Sorry,
Doctor," he muttered. "I don't know what's the matter with me."

"I can tell you," Kennon said. "You've just graduated."

"How did you know?" Smalley said.

"I was a graduate once, myself -- not too long ago."

"How long, sir?"

"Class of Eighty-seven."

"That's twelve years ago," Smalley said.

Kennon nodded. Ten years lost. Not bad -- not bad at all. But
Alexander could have done a lot in ten years.

"I meant no disrespect," Smalley said worriedly.

"I know it. But if you intend to practice on Beta, you'd better
polish your professional manner. Now where I was, it didn't make
much difference. Laymen often called me 'Doc.'"

Smalley was properly shocked. "I hope you didn't encourage them,
sir."

"It was impossible to discourage them," Kennon said. "After all,
when the man who hires you----"

"Oh -- entrepreneurs," Smalley said in a tone that explained
everything.

* * *

The car stopped in front of the Medical Center's staff entrance.
"This way, sir," Smalley said. He led the way down a green-tiled
corridor to an elevator -- then down another corridor past a pair
of soft-footed nurses who eyed them curiously -- looking at
Kennon's tunic and sandals with mild disapproval in their eyes.
Smalley stopped and knocked softly on a closed door.

"Enter," said a pleasant baritone voice from the annunciator.

"Dr. Brainard -- Dr. Kennon," Smalley said.

Kennon liked the man instantly. A plump, pink-cheeked man of
middle age, with prematurely white hair, Dr. Will Brainard
combined a fatherly appearance with an impression of quick
intelligence. The fat that sheathed his stocky body had obviously
not touched his mind. Brainard rose from the deep chair near the
window where he had been sitting, knocked the ashes from his
pipe, and bowed stiffly. His eyes -- sharp points of blue in the
smooth pinkness of his face - surveyed Kennon curiously.

"So you're the young man who takes untrained pregnant women for
rides in old-fashioned spacers," he said. "Didn't you know what
would happen?"

"I was in a hurry, Doctor," Kennon said.

"Obviously. Now tell me about it." Brainard looked at the
eager-faced interne standing behind Kennon. "That will be all,
Smalley," he said.

Kennon waited until the door closed. "Ordinarily," he said, "I'd
never have done a thing like that, but there were some very
pressing reasons. However, I should have given her an injection
of Somnol before we started. I'm criminally liable. If anything
happens to her----" His voice was tight with worry.

"You'd give her an injection?" Brainard said. "I hope you didn't
mean that."

"But I did, sir. I've given thousands of Lani injections."

"What's a Lani?"

"She is, sir. The impression has been that her race isn't human."

"Nonsense -- it's obvious she is."

"A Brotherhood Court of Inquiry didn't think so."

"Hmm. Is that so?"

"Yes, sir. -- But before I go on, tell me, how is she?"

"Oh, she'll be fine. A little mental therapy and plenty of rest
are all she needs. She's a remarkably healthy young woman. But
this is beside the point. There are a number of unusual features
about this case that need investigation." Brainard took a
standard hospital form from his desk. "Mind if I ask you some
questions, Doctor?"

"Not at all but you are due for some unpleasant shocks as you go
through that form."

"I believe I can survive them," Brainard said dryly.

"This is professional confidence---" Kennon began.

"Of course, of course," Brainard said impatiently. "Now let's get
on with it."

* * *

"This is the most amazing tale I've ever heard," Brainard said
slowly. "Are you certain you are telling the truth?"

Kennon grinned. "I don't blame you for not believing me -- but
the evidence is conclusive, and there is enough documentary
evidence in the space ship -- and in the fact of the ship itself
to prove what I am saying. Laboratory tests here will establish
the fact that Copper's child is also mine. And as for Flora, a
Brotherhood Investigation Team can prove that part."

"That will be attended to," Brainard said grimly.

"But how did you deduce she wasn't from a Betan colony?" Kennon
asked.

Brainard smiled. "That wasn't hard. Her sun tan and the condition
of her feet proved she was a practicing nudist. No Betan girl
ever practices nudism to my knowledge. Besides, the I.D. tattoo
under her left arm and the V on her hip are no marks of our
culture. Then there was another thing -- the serological analysis
revealed no gerontal antibodies. She had never received an
injection of longevity compound in her life. This might occur,
but it's highly improbable. The evidence indicates that she's
extra-Betan."

Kennon nodded.

"But this business of her being fifteen years old! That's
impossible. She has the development of a woman of twenty-five."

"Remember the Alpha V colony?" Kennon said.




"Of course -- oh -- I see! It could be something like that.
Certainly -- strong yellow G-type sun -- an isolated colony
serviced at twenty-year intervals -- there was a marked physical
precocity."

"And if this had been continued for several millennia?" Kennon
asked.

"Hmm -- I see. Yes, it's possible. On Alpha V the colonists grew
from infancy to maturity in fifteen years."

"And wasn't Heaven one of our early colonies?"

"Yes -- it was established after the Great Schism near the end of
the First Millennium -- when science and religion split
irrevocably on this world. We packed the whole lot of them off to
a world of their own where they could develop as they pleased.
They called it Heaven -- odd name for a fogworld - but there's no
accounting for tastes." Brainard chuckled.

"I thought that was the case, but I couldn't remember. My ancient
history is pretty weak."

"You should read more," Brainard said. "But as I see it -- this
girl is of Betan ancestry providing your theory and the facts
coincide."

"Which could also explain why an outworld species of agerone
would be toxic. They tried to prolong Lani life and met with
failure. Our plants are mutant forms."

"Just as we are a mutant race," Brainard said, "or partly
mutant." He sighed. "You have brought us a great deal of trouble,
Kennon. You are bringing matters to a head. If our investigations
prove your statements, we are morally bound to open the Lani
question. And if those people are of Betan origin -- that fellow
Alexander will have plenty to answer for."

"I don't believe it is really his fault," Kennon said slowly. "I
don't think he has ever known the truth."

"Why didn't you tell him?"

"The answer to that should be obvious. Even though I trusted him
completely, I could never be sure. He has a Free Trader
background and those people can't he trusted where money's
concerned. The whole Kardonian culture is an outgrowth of Free
Traderism: small business, independent corporation, linear
trusts, and all the cutthroat competition such a culture would
naturally have. It's a regular jungle of Free Enterprise. I
couldn't predict how he would react. He could either act in a
moral manner and make restitution, or he could quietly cut our
throats and go on with his business."

"I see. The temptation to cut a throat might be overwhelming."

"They fight commercial wars," Kennon said.

"Disgusting -- utterly uncivilized! Under the circumstances you
had no other course. Still, they have no moral right to enslave
human beings."

"There is always the element of doubt. Maybe they didn't know.
After all, an impartial court declared the Lani alien - and the
Betan mutation isn't known throughout the Brotherhood."

"One doesn't go around broadcasting data on the variations of
one's germ plasm," Brainard said. "That's a private affair - a
matter of personal privacy."

"And public safety?"

Brainard nodded. "We're no more courageous than any other
civilization. We have no desire to borrow trouble. We are content
to leave things alone."

"That's the trouble," Kennon said. "We're all content to leave
things alone. If I hadn't found the spaceship I'd not have been
able to lay aside my moral conditioning. And if I had not, Copper
would not have become pregnant and forced me into these drastic
actions. It's even possible that I would have done nothing." He
grimaced. "And when I left Alexander's employment mnemonic
erasure would have removed all memory of the Lani's human
origin." He shrugged. "I still am not certain that it wouldn't
have been the wiser course. Naturally, once I knew, I couldn't do
anything else than what I did."

"Naturally," Brainard said. "Humanity reaches the heights when it
faces questions of moral responsibility."

"To mankind," Kennon added heavily. "We have a convenient blind
spot regarding our moral responsibility to other intelligent
races."

"A harsh fact, but true -- and who is to judge whether it is
right or wrong? We achieved dominance of Earth by our moral
responsibility to family, tribe, and nation -- and we nearly
exterminated ourselves when we forgot that this responsibility
went beyond nations and embraced all mankind. We learned that
after the Exodus. As for the other races - perhaps someday we
will learn moral responsibility for all intelligence -- but we
are not ready for that yet. That's too big a mental hurdle."
Brainard sighed. "We are what we are, and we change slowly. But
we change."

"True enough," Kennon said. "But it's hard to be philosophical
about it."

"You're young. Live a couple of centuries and you will understand
patience."

Kennon smiled.

"You know," Brainard said thoughtfully,"you still have plenty of
things to do."

"I know. I'll have to make a transcript of this discussion, have
it witnessed, and make a sealed record. I have to arrange for the
reposition of the evidence inside the Egg, and a complete
recording of the Egg itself."

"And to be safe you'll need several facsimiles, properly
attested. The arms of these outworld entrepreneurs are long, and
unfortunately not all Betans are models of honesty."

"I'd better get started then."

"Let me help you,"Brainard said. "I have a little influence in
this area - and your cause interests me." He picked up the phone
on his desk.

Kennon sighed. He had found an ally.

CHAPTER XIX

"What are you going to do with that girl?" Brainard asked.

"Formalize our mating as soon as she is able to get out of bed,"
Kennon replied.

"She is an ignorant, untrained savage!" Brainard protested. "You
should hear the stories the nurses tell about her!"

Kennon chuckled. "You don't have to tell me about those. I've
lived with Lani for two years. But she's not stupid."

"What are your plans?"

"After we establish her humanity legally," Kennon said, "I'm
going to send her to school."

"For twenty years?"

"If necessary. But I don't think it will take that long. She has
some schooling."

"But no training -- and what of the Lani in the meantime?"

"I have plans for that. I'm going back to Kardon and give
Alexander a chance to make restitution. I think he is an
honorable man. Slavery may be as revolting to him as it is to any
civilized human. He deserves a chance to rectify his
grandfather's error."

"That is reasonable -- and in the best traditions of the
Brotherhood."

"Furthermore, it's practical," Kennon said. "Alexander is the
only one fully qualified to handle the problems of
enfranchisement. He's known the Lani all his life, and he is an
executive type. A Brotherhood committee would probably botch the
whole affair. What with colonial jurisdiction, territorial
rights, and all the legal quibbling that committees love, the
Lani would get a poor deal. And there's no reason to wreck the
lives of a couple of hundred million Kardonians because the
rightful owners of Kardon were illegally enslaved. That happened
too long ago to have any practical meaning. There are other and
better solutions."

"What?"

"How should I know?" Kennon asked. "But I'm sure Alexander will.
That's his field."

"All you have to worry about is whether he'll co-operate,"
Brainard said.

"He'll co-operate once he knows the score," Kennon said
confidently. "And he'll have to make some form of restitution.
But it shouldn't involve Kardon. Actually the Lani were never in
a position to develop that world. They'd probably have remained
on Flora indefinitely. The old court records showed no tendency
for their culture to expand. They were an inbred group, a static,
balanced society in harmony with their environment. In nearly
thirty-five hundred years their numbers increased only to a few
thousand. Actually there is a good possibility that the race
would ultimately have died out if Old Alexander hadn't enslaved
them and instituted a controlled breeding program. There are more
Lani alive today than there were at the height of their power. So
in a way Old Alexander did them a favor. He kept their race
alive. All we can expect is a fair and just settlement."

"But if Alexander doesn't co-operate?"

"That's where you come in. You'll be a watchdog. If you don't
receive annual progress reports from me -- and see or talk to me
personally every second year, you are released from our bond and
can do what you wish with the evidence I've accumulated."

"We'd better get this into Private Record," Brainard said. "We
can transcribe an agreement and place it in the Public
Repository."

"A good idea and we'd better waste no time. Alexander might still
be looking for me -- and if he is, it's merely a question of time
before he catches up."

"Ten years have passed. It's doubtful. But we could keep you here
at the Center."

Kennon shook his head. "Too dangerous. And besides it would
compromise you. No -- we'll get everything possible done to make
the Lani's case airtight, and then I'll return to Kardon. It will
put our case in a better light if it ever comes to trial, if I go
back voluntarily. Anyway -- I'm morally bound to return. Now
let's make this record."

"It's your decision," Brainard said. "And it's your neck - but I
must admit that I agree with you."

"I'll feel safer when we get the legal details clarified," Kennon
said.

"And what of the girl?"

"Can you take care of her if I have to leave quickly?"

"Of course. I'll give her personal attention, and after she has
her child I'll see that she is sent to you."

"That's decent of you, Doctor."

"It's my moral responsibility," Brainard said as he slipped a new
tape into the recorder.

* * *

Copper responded quickly to rest and therapy. The space shock
cleared up quickly. The gerontological treatments put her to bed
again, but within a month she was completely normal, and her
lifespan was now that of a normal human. She could look forward
to some four hundred years with Kennon -- and the prospect was
not unpleasant. The Center fascinated her. Never before had she
seen a hospital devoted to the care and treatment of humans. It
was a far cry, in its polished steel and stone magnificence, from
the tiny primitive structure over which Kennon had presided. Yet
both places served the same purpose. Perhaps Kennon was right --
that there was no difference between man and Lani. The idea was
not nearly as unbelievable as it was at first.

"I never realized what it meant to be human," Copper said as she
held Kennon's hand. "It is nice to feel important and to know
that our child is a member of the race that rules the galaxy."

"So you're convinced?" Kennon chuckled.

"The serological identity--" she began.

"Hmm. You've been getting some education, I see."

"Well," Copper smiled, "I didn't think you wanted a stupid woman.
I can read -- and since you are around so seldom nowadays, there
is little else to do. I've been reading history, medicine, and
novels," she finished proudly.

"A fine catholic selection," Kennon said, "Now if you add
mathematics, sociology, and philosophy you'll have a well-rounded
basic education."

"Dr. Brainard has been trying something he calls 'hypno.' He says
it will help me learn faster. But I can't see that it's done much
good."

"You won't until you need the information," Kennon said.

"That technique is only good for implanting basic knowledge, and
much of that will merely supplement or complete that which you
already have. You won't be conscious of it."

"Oh -- I think I see what you mean."

"Of course, you'll have to continue your formal education.
There's a great deal for you to learn. It should keep you busy
while I'm away."

"Away? Where are you going?"

"Back to Kardon."

"But you can't! Alexander will destroy you."

"I think not. After all, ten years have elapsed since we left
there and he's had plenty of time to think. Douglas must have
told him about us. I wouldn't be surprised if he has already done
something about your people."

She shivered. "He might -- but the question is what would he do?
He could have killed them all!"

Kennon shook his head. "I don't think so. He never struck me as a
mass murderer."

She shook her head. "You don't know the Alexanders like I do. I
was raised by them. They're capable of anything. But what is this
business of ten years? That's silly. I haven't had my child yet
-- and it doesn't take ten years of pregnancy to produce a baby."

"It's the difference between subjective and objective time,"
Kennon said. "We traveled here through hyperspace -- low Cth --
in an uncompensated ship, and there is little temporal flow in
the levels below the blue."

"Oh -- of course."

Kennon chuckled. "That would have been Greek to you a couple of
weeks ago. See where that basic data fits?"

"But I've always known that."

"You just think you have. Search your memory and see if I'm not
right."

Copper shook her head. "It's very strange," she said. "But that's
not important. This idea of going back to Kardon, though --
that's a different thing -- that is important."

"I have to do it. Not only because it's a personal moral
obligation but also because of the Lani. They must have their
freedom."

"Providing there are any still alive."

"Stop being a calamity howler. Whatever Alexander may be, he's
not a butcher. He even loved a Lani once. You told me so
yourself. And he couldn't kill where he loved."

She nodded. "I suppose you're right, but I've never lost my fear
of the Man Alexander. He held the power of life and death over
me. But if you must go then I should go too. My obligation is
greater than yours."

"Later," Kennon said. "You're not ready to return. It will be
time enough after you have learned some civilized habits."

Copper's face lengthened. "You mean like wrapping myself in cloth
like these people do?"

"That's part of it."

"Why can't they be sensible -- or are they so ashamed of what the
gods gave them that they must hide themselves?"

"No, it's not that. At least not exactly. It's custom. And you
must learn to conform to customs -- outwardly at least -- no
matter what you may really think."

"Isn't that a form of lying?" Copper asked.

"I suppose so."

"Isn't that strange. Your society exalts truth, honor, morality,
and intelligence -- yet you lie about your attitude."

"It's called diplomacy," Kennon said. "It's part of respect for
others' attitudes and beliefs, a necessary part of human
relationships."

"Then you'd be a nudist on Santos?"

"Of course -- even though I think it isn't proper, I couldn't
inflict my ideas and attitudes on the customs of an independent
world."

"Oh -- you think I'm doing that?"

"Yes -- and it is a mark of barbarism."

"Sometimes you're not very nice," Copper said.

Kennon smiled wryly. "I suppose I'm not," he agreed.

"I'll try to be civilized," Copper said. "But if you go to Kardon
-- I'm going with you."

"Perhaps," Kennon said. "We'll see how things turn out."

"You don't want me to go with you?"

"To be honest -- no," Kennon said. "You're safe here, and until
your status is cleared by a Brotherhood court, I wouldn't care to
place you in Alexander's hands. And clearing your status is going
to take time."

"You mean that I am still his property?"

"Yes. But there is a legal doubt that will prevent him from
exercising his claim as long as you stay on Beta. In the area
where he has power, that doubt might not hold. So until your
status is definitely proven to be human, you should not leave."

"And what happens if this court denies my claim?"

"Then we appeal to the Council. However, with the evidence we
have, your claim cannot reasonably be denied. The only question
is one of time. It may take years. Still, I don't think there is
anything to worry about. I don't think Alexander will give us any
trouble, but there's no sense in taking chances."

"You still think I'm a Lani," she said accusingly.

"I do not."

"Then you think that I'd obey Alexander, after what I did to
Douglas."

"I can only repeat that Douglas isn't the Boss-man."

"I wish I knew what you really thought."

"That isn't hard. I think you should stay here until I get this
business straightened out."

"That's all?" she asked suspiciously. "After all, I know I'm not
very pretty now. And there's lots of Lani on Flora----"

Oh, for Ochsner's sake! Do you think that I'm---" He paused,
speechless. "Just what do you think I am?"

"You're a man. And that's the trouble."

Kennon chuckled. "So that's it! You don't trust me."

"I love you," Copper said.

"Sometimes I wonder why men ever finalize their status with
women," Kennon murmured. "It does no good. It doesn't convince
the woman. She's still fearful, jealous, and suspicious -- always
belittling her ability to hold what she has, always alert for
competition, clinging, holding, absorbing -- when she should be
working as part of a team."

"That's not true!"

"Then prove it."

"How -- by staying here while you go to the end of the galaxy and
play noble?"

"I'm only doing what I have to do."

"And so am I -- and if you go I'm going with you"

Kennon shrugged. There was no sense arguing. The only thing to do
was make his plans and leave quietly. If she was faced with an
established fact, she might be more reasonable. He doubted it,
but alone, she could do nothing -- and Brainard would see that
she was comfortable. The salvage money from the Egg would keep
her from being a public charge. And he had more banked in
Albertsville which he could send her once he got there. He'd
start making plans to leave as soon as possible.

Copper looked up at him as he stood above her bed. Slowly she
reached out and placed one slim hand in his. "I know what you are
thinking," she said, "and--" her face twisted in a grimace of
pain, and the hand in his clutched with convulsive strength at
his fingers.

"What's the matter?" he said.

"Nothing -- it's perfectly normal," she said. "I'm just going to
give you a son. Now if you'd call for the doctor, perhaps we can
get this over. That pain was only twenty minutes from the last. I
think it's about time."

Kennon -- who had attended several hundred Lani births and had
developed a certain callousness about them -- was suddenly
frightened and helpless as he pushed the call button. He could
feel the cold sweat form on his forehead. He had started this. It
was his fault if anything went wrong. He wished that it was
someone else rather than Copper who was going through this trial.
He was nervous, unsure, and guilty. In a word, he felt like a man
whose mate was giving birth to their first child.

* * *

"It's a boy," Dr. Bra!nard said. He smiled down at Kennon's
haggard face.

"How is Copper?" Kennon asked.

"Fine -- she's healthy as a horse."

Kennon winced at the cliche It was so ancient that it had lost
all meaning. Most Betans didn't know what a horse was, let alone
whether it was healthy or not. From what Kennon could remember of
veterinary history, the horse wasn't too healthy an animal. It
was rather delicate, in fact.

"How is the child?" Kennon asked. It took a little courage to ask
this question. The baby could be anything from normal to a
monstrosity.

"Perfectly normal," Brainard said. "A true Betan type even down
to the vestigial tail. We amputated that, of course."

"Thank Ochsner!" Kennon breathed. "I was afraid."

"Of course you were," Brainard said. "Do you want to see them
now? When I left, Copper was asking for you."

Kennon sighed. Leaving, he realized, wasn't going to be as easy
as he had thought.

"We'll have to keep them here for a couple of months," Brainard
said. "We must take exhaustive tests if we expect the court to
reverse its prior decision."

"I expected that," Kennon said. He shrugged, "It's probably
best," he said. "Now show me where Copper is."

"She's back in the same room. You don't need a guide."

Kennon didn't. In fact, he behaved quite admirably.

CHAPTER XX

Longliners, Kennon reflected, didn't make Beta a port of call,
and the Shortliner connections with other worlds were
'infrequent. Beta had done a good job separating from the rest of
the Brotherhood. Too good. The spaceline schedules showed only
one departure in the next month, a Shortliner for Earth, and from
Earth the road to Kardon was long and tortuous, involving a
series of short jumps from world to world and a final
medium-range hop from Halsey to Kardon. If everything went right
and he made every connection he would be in Kardon four months
after he left Beta. Kennon sighed as he left Travelers Aid.
Morality was a heavy load to carry.

He walked slowly down the road from the spaceport toward the
Co-operative where he had been staying. He had left Huntersville
and Copper a week ago, after he had seen his child. His child!
The thought of being a father was oddly dismaying. It distorted
his sense of values. But one thing was certain. He was returning
to Kardon, and Copper was not coming with him. She had a duty to
their son - and he had a duty to his contract with Alexander, to
the Lani on Flora, and to Copper -- and none of these could be
satisfied by further running. He had to return and settle the
account.

A tall man in a conservative yellow-and-black suit was waiting
patiently in front of his room. "My name is Richter," he said "
-- Art Richter. Are you Dr. Jac Kennon?"

"I could deny it, but I won't," Kennon said.

"Thank you, Doctor. It was just a formality anyway. You see, I
know you by sight." He sighed. "One has to observe the
formalities in this business." He drew a long white envelope from
his tunic and handed it to Kennon. "Most of my subjects try to
deny their identity," he said.

"It's a refreshing change to find an honest man." He bowed
formally. "I really thought this would be harder, considering the
charges against you." He bowed again and walked away.

"Now -- what was that?" Kennon muttered as he opened the
envelope. The man Richter was undoubtedly a process server -- but
who had hired him? He unfolded the sheet and scanned the charges
-- coercion, larceny, livestock theft, and breach of contract. He
shrugged. This was Alexander's work. What was the man thinking
of? It was insanity to bring the Lani matter into open court.
Hadn't Douglas told him what had happened? Couldn't Alexander
guess that he had fled with Copper for a good reason -- one that
would stand up in court? Didn't he know about the spacer? Or had
Douglas turned on his cousin? The pup had so many hates that it
was possible. He was a natural troublemaker. Maybe Alexander
didn't know. Maybe he was working in the dark. Kennon scanned the
sheet quickly. Ah! here it was. Complaint - Mr. Alexander X. M.
Alexander, Skyline Tower 1024, Beta City!

Alexander! Here on Beta! Kennon opened the door of his room, went
straight to the phone beside the bed. He lifted the handset from
its cradle and dialed the operator. "Get me Huntersville THU
2-1408. I want to speak to Dr. Brainard, Dr. Will Brainard. This
is a priority call -- my name is Kennon. Dr. Jac Kennon D.V.M.
I'm in the registry -- 47M 26429 -- yes -- of course, and thank
you." He waited a moment. "Hello -- Dr. Brainard? -- Kennon here.
I've just had some news. Alexander's on Beta! Yes -- he served me
with a summons. Can you get a restraining order to prevent him
from leaving? You can? Good! Here's his address." Kennon rattled
off the location. "Yes -- I'm taking the next airboat to Beta
City. This should simplify things considerably. -- Of course it
should. He was a fool to have come here. Yes -- I suppose you
should tell Copper. Oh! She is? I'm sorry to hear that, but
there's no reason for her to be angry. She should realize that I
did this for her -- not to make her miserable. Hmm.-- She -- she
has? You think she should come with me? -- Yes, I realize she can
be a problem when she wants to be. All right then -- tell her to
pack a toothbrush and a few spare diapers. And see if you can get
me a couple of tickets on the next flight to Beta City. I'll be
over in a couple of hours and pick her up." He cradled the phone
and dialed the operator again.

"I want the phone number of Skyline Tower 1024, Beta City, Mr.
Alexander. Yes. I'll wait. This number is HUV 2-1278 and my name
is Kennon, Dr. Jac Kennon 47M 26429. I called you before. No, I'm
a transient. I can refer you to Dr. James Brainard, Huntersville
Medical Center. Yes, I'll accept charges. Now will you give me
that number? BCA 7-8941--thank you."

Kennon hung up, dialed the number, and waited.

"Hello," he said. "Mr. Alexander? This is Dr. Kennon. - Yes -- I
suppose you do, but I've been trying to get back to Kardon for
the past month. You are? Well, that's your privilege, but I'd
advise you to go easy until I see you. Naturally -- I'm coming as
soon as I can get there. We'll be seeing you tomorrow morning at
the latest. We? -- I'm bringing Copper, of course. I just wanted
you to know."

Kennon wiped his forehead. Alexander sounded angry and dangerous.
Ten years hadn't served to cool him off. What had happened on
Kardon after he had left? Kennon shook his head. There was
something here he didn't understand. The entrepreneur should have
been covering his tracks, not threatening jail and
disaccreditation. It was obvious that a personal visit was more
necessary than he had thought.

Alexander was waiting. His eyebrows rose at the sight of Copper
in formal Betan dress -- and lifted a trifle more at the sight of
the baby.

"What is this, Kennon?" he asked.

"Trouble," Kennon said. He took off his hat. "I came here to
settle things before you took this case to court. You obviously
do not understand what has happened. I suppose Douglas has
double-crossed you. It would be characteristic of him. But before
we go any further I think we should clear the air and let each
other know where we stand. I don't want to make trouble if it's
not necessary. You'll notice I'm not wearing a thought screen, so
you'll be able to check everything I say, and know I'm telling
the truth."

"It had better be good," Alexander said grimly. "I've been
looking for you for ten years. I intend to throw the book at
you."

"I don't know whether my reason is good or not. Technically I'm
guilty of breach of contract and larceny of corporation property,
but there are extenuating circumstances."

Alexander chuckled mirthlessly. "There are a few other charges.
And quite probably I can think of more if you beat these. I'm
going to make an example of you, Kennon. I'm going to drag you
down and stamp on you. You're going to be a horrible example to
all smart operators who think they can break contracts. It's
taken a million credits and ten years' time to hunt you down, but
it's going to be worth it."

"Copper's child is a boy," Kennon said mildly. "My son."

Alexander froze. "You can prove that?" he asked in a
half-strangled voice.

Kennon nodded. "You see the extenuating circumstance?" he asked.
"Suppression of human slavery!"

Alexander sat down. It was as though some unseen hand had pulled
his legs from under him. "You believe it," he said. "-- No --
you've proved it! Why -- why didn't you tell me? What sort of a
man do you think I am?"

"I didn't know. I couldn't take the chance until Copper was
protected. You see, sir, I love her."

"That isn't hard to do with Lani," Alexander said. He sank back
in his chair, his face clouded, his expression troubled. It was
obvious that the realization shocked him.

Kennon felt an odd sympathy for the entrepreneur. It wasn't a
nice feeling, he suspected, to have the beliefs of a lifetime
ripped apart and sent to the disposal chute.

"So the Lani are a human variant," Alexander said dully.

"The proof is here," Kennon said, "and the supporting evidence is
conclusive."

"Which makes me -- what? A murderer? A slaver? A tyrant?"
Alexander clutched his head with lean-fingered hands. "What am
I?"

"An innocent victim of circumstances," Kennon said. "You didn't
know. None of us knew. And we still wouldn't know if the Lani
weren't of Betan extraction." He grimaced painfully. "I've done
some soul-searching myself, and it hasn't been a pleasant task."

"But it's nothing like mine," Alexander said in a low voice. "I
suspected they were human when I was younger, but I denied my
suspicions and accepted false facts instead of investigating."

"You would have found nothing."

"Unfortunately, that's not true. We discovered quite a bit from
the experimental station you left us when you disappeared ten
years ago. But we stopped when we found the age that was being
indoctrinated with Lani tabus. We could have gone farther, but I
didn't think it was necessary."

"Didn't Douglas tell you?" Kennon asked curiously. "I told him
when I turned him loose."

"Douglas didn't tell anything except that you had somehow gotten
a spaceship. I assumed it was one of those that were involved in
that commercial raid a few decades ago, but I see it wasn't. No
-- I knew nothing about this development. And Douglas, I guess,
wanted to keep it hidden. He gave your co-ordinates and ordered
Mullins to launch a missile. But he apparently forgot to turn on
his IFF. At any rate the missile lost you -- but found Douglas.
Douglas was still talking to Alexandria when it struck."

"He might have informed you," Kennon said. "If he had more time."

"I doubt it. He ordered the missile first. He was trying to
destroy you before you could destroy Outworld Enterprises.

His motives were selfish as usual." Alexander looked at Kennon
with a haggard eye. "I owe you an apology," he said. "I've
considered you responsible for Douglas's death for ten years.
I've searched for you on a hundred worlds. My agents in every
branch office have had standing orders to report any unusual
arrivals. I have hunted you personally. I wanted to break you --
I wanted to kill you."

"I couldn't help the delay," Kennon said. "The ship was old."

"I know. You've told me more than you think. I'm a telepath, you
know."

"I've never forgotten it," Kennon said. "That was one of the
principal reasons I came here. I wanted to see how you'd react
when you learned the whole truth."

"And I suppose you gloat -- no -- you're not doing that. But you
are right. I could have checked it further. But I didn't.
Outworld Enterprises is far bigger than Flora -- and I was busy.
Galactic trade is a snake-pit. And, after all, there was
Douglas's death -- and the Family with their never-ending clamor
for money and their threats when it didn't come promptly. I like
being an entrepreneur, but until I made Outworld independent of
Family control, I couldn't do anything except run the business to
their wishes. Actually the island was only a small part of the
corporation. I tried to run it as humanely as possible under the
circumstances.'' He shuddered. "I don't think I was ever
needlessly cruel."

"No," Kennon said, "you were indifferent."

"Which is just as bad," Alexander said.

"Well -- what are you going to do about it?" Copper interjected.
"You can beat yourself until you're blue, but that won't
accomplish anything."

"What are you going to do?" Alexander countered. "You have the
upper hand."

"Me?" Copper asked. "I have nothing. This is between you men."
She lapsed into silence.

Alexander turned back to Kennon. "You have undoubtedly made some
arrangements. You wouldn't come here -- oh! I see.
Congratulations. Handling the evidence that way was a wise
course. You have my admiration. But then I should have known that
I was not dealing with a fool." He smiled wryly. "Subconsciously
I think I did know -- but----"

"That's one consolation," Kennon grinned. "To be thought a rascal
is bad enough, but to be considered a fool is intolerable."

"But your decision not to use the evidence unless you were forced
to -- that's poor business."

"But good morals," Kennon said. "Neither the Brotherhood nor I
could settle this affair. It is a matter only you can handle.
There is no sense in killing Outworld or throwing Kardon into
centuries of litigation. The Lani never were numerous enough to
lay claim to an entire world. I'll admit the club is there, but
I'll never use it unless it's necessary."

"Why not? -- it's sound business practice."

"I'm a professional -- not a businessman. And besides, I haven't
the moral right to return evil for good. You have not been a bad
boss."

"Thanks," Alexander said glumly. "I've always considered myself
civilized."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Kennon said. "Honorable,
yes -- civilized, no. But none of us are really civilized."

"So?"

"We haven't changed much, despite our development. Perhaps we've
varied a little physically -- and we've learned to use new tools,
but our minds are still the minds of barbarians -- blood brothers
against the enemy, and everything not of us is enemy. Savages --
hiding under a thin veneer of superficial culture. Savages with
spaceships and the atom." Kennon looked down at Copper.
Apparently her thoughts were miles away in an introspective world
that was all her own. She had said her piece and having done that
was content to let the two men develop it. Kennon looked at her
with odd respect. Alexander eyed her with a mildly startled
expression on his lean face. And both men smiled, but the smiles
were not amused.

"Judging from Copper," Alexander said, "I don't think we'll have
to worry about how the Lani will turn out." He looked at Kennon
with mild sympathy. "You are going to have quite a time with
her," he said.

"I suppose so. I'll probably never know whether I'm guided or
whether I'm doing the guiding. I've changed a lot of my opinions
about Copper since the day I met her."

Copper looked up and smiled at them. It was an odd smile, hinting
at secrets neither of them would ever know. Alexander chuckled.
"It serves you right." He crossed his legs and looked up at
Kennon standing before him. By some uncanny legerdemain he had
gotten control of himself and the situation at the same time.
Being telepathic was an unfair advantage, Kennon thought.

"You were equally unfair with your accusation," Alexander said.
"Sure -- humanity makes mistakes, and like this one they're
sometimes brutal mistakes. But we are capable of atonement.
Morally we have come a long way from the brutality of the
Interregnum. I shouldn't have to use examples, but look at that"
-- he waved at the view wall at the panorama of gleaming fairy
towers and greenery that made Beta City one of the most beautiful
in the Brotherhood. "Don't tell me that five thousand years of
peace and development haven't produced civilization. That's a
concrete example out there."

"It isn't," Kennon said flatly. "Sure, it's pretty -- clean --
and beautifully designed for art and utility -- but it isn't
civilization. You're confusing technology with culture. You look
at this and say, 'What a great civilization man has built,' when
you really mean, 'What a great technology mankind has developed.'
There's all the difference in the world. Technology is of the
mind and hands. Civilization is of the spirit -- and spiritually
we are still in the Dark Ages.

"We conquer, kill, loot, and enslave. We establish standards to
keep humanity a closed corporation, a special club in which men
can live but aliens can't. We've made the standards for admission
so rigid that we even enslave our own kind and call them animals.
That's not civilization -- that's savagery!

"For nearly five hundred years your family has run a slave pen.
Your fortune is based upon it. And you have perpetuated this
traffic in flesh on the specious reasoning that a court judgment
of half a millennium ago is as good today as when it was handed
down. Never once did anyone have the moral courage to re-examine
that old decision. Never once did any human question the
rightness of that decision. None of us are immune. We all based
our conduct upon an antiquated law and searched no further.
Everyone was happy with the status quo -- or at least not so
unhappy that they wanted to change it. Even I would have been
content had it not been for Copper."

"Yet I do not feel that it was bad that I hired you," Alexander
said. "Even though you have shown me that I am a slaver, and made
me see faults I never knew I had." His face was drawn -- harsh
lines reached from nose to lips, from eyes to chin. Suddenly he
looked old. "I can accept censure if censure is just. And this is
just. No -- I'm not sorry I hired you even though the thought of
what I have helped do to the Lani makes me sick to my stomach."

"Well--" Kennon said. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know," Alexander said. "At the first smell of trouble,
the Family will turn tail and run. You can break the company, and
I won't stand in your way. It's only just. You're the one who's
carrying the ball. Now run with it."

"That damned blind spot," Kennon said. "You realize, of course,
that you're not legally liable. It was a mistake. All you have to
do is admit the error and start from there. Naturally -- no
reasonable intelligence would expect that you change the older
Lani. They're too old for either agerone or change. It would be
both cruel and inhuman to turn them loose. It's with the
youngsters that you can work -- those who are physically and
physiologically young enough to derive benefit from agerone and
education.

"As I remember, you bought a planet called Phoebe. Now why don't
you----"

"Phase out! Of course! But that means that you can't press
charges."

"Why should I? I'm not one of these starry-eyed reformers who
expect to change things overnight. It's the future of the Lani
race that's important, And Brainard agrees with me. A phase-out
is the proper solution. Change the education, let males be born
-- teach the young to think instead of to obey. Give them Phoebe
for a home -- they never owned all of Kardon anyway. And within a
century or two we will have a new group of the human race -- and
then we can tell the Brotherhood."

Kennon looked inquiringly at Copper. She smiled and nodded. "It
would cause less trouble that way," she said. "It would be more
sure -- and there are never too many old ones."

Kennon shuddered, thinking of the euthanasia chambers on Otpen
One. "There will be more from now on," he said.

"Outworld can afford it. It'll bend us a little but we won't
break -- and besides, the Lani will need our help for some time
to come." Alexander looked at Kennon. "Can we make an agreement
that all parties will respect?" he asked.

"I think so -- providing there are no sleeper clauses in it,"
Kennon said.

"There won't be," Alexander said.

And there weren't.

* * *

It was a private ceremony. The Family, sulky and unwilling, faced
with a choice of drastically reduced income or outright
confiscation and preferring a portion of a loaf to none.
Alexander -- grim but oddly peaceful of expression. Brainard --
pink-cheeked and emotionless. Kennon and Copper -- happily
conscious that it was at last finished. It was an oddly assorted
group of conspirators who planned to restore a segment of
humanity to the human race.

Kennon signed last, and as he did, Alexander looked at him with a
sly grin distorting the smooth pallor of his face.

"You forgot something," he said.

"What?" Kennon said -- aware suddenly that something was wrong.

"What do you plan to do, now that this is over?"

"Join the Medical Center here and practice veterinary medicine."

"You wouldn't care to work for me -- to help rebuild the wreckage
you've helped create? I'll need a manager on Kardon to phase out
the island while we phase in Phoebe."

"No, thank you. I've had enough of that."

"You just think you have," Alexander said gleefully. "That's what
you have forgotten. You've gotten your agreement -- now you will
satisfy me. As I see it you have breached your contract by
leaving Flora without authorization."

"That is right," Kennon said. A small lump of lead began to grow
rapidly larger in his stomach. Brainard was grinning and Copper's
eyes were shining. "You've been jobbed!" his mind told him. He
sighed. He knew what was coming next.

"The punitive clause for breach of contract," Alexander went on
inexorably, "is very broad. Discretion is vested in the
entrepreneur. I can obtain judgment against you in any court on
any planet."

"I know," Kennon said glumly.

"But I am going to be civilized," Alexander said. "I am going to
be merciful. I am going to extend your contract until phase-out
has been completed. You are going to have control of the entire
Kardon phase of the operation. It's poetic justice -- you made
the mess -- now you can clean it up."

"That's inhuman!"

"Humanity has nothing to do with it. It's justice," Alexander
said. He smiled at Copper's radiant face. The thought of going
home was good to her. "Good luck on your new job, Dr. Kennon," he
said. "And welcome to the brotherhood of the ulcer."




End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Lani People by J. F. Bone