by Anthology
"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 breed
ing 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.