CHAPTER VIII
"Wake up, Doctor, it's six A.M." A pleasant voice cut through Kennon'sslumber. He opened one eye and looked at the room. For a moment thestrange surroundings bothered him, then memory took over. He stirreduncomfortably, 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 voicedidn't sound particularly sorry.
It was behind him, Kennon decided. He rolled over with a groan ofprotest and looked at his tormentor. A gasp of dismay left his lips,for standing beside the bed, a half smile on her pointed face, wasCopper--looking fresh and alert and as disturbing as ever.
It wasn't right, Kennon thought bitterly, to be awakened from a soundsleep by a naked humanoid who looked too human for comfort. "What areyou doing here?" he demanded.
"I'm supposed to be here," Copper said. "I'm your secretary." Shegrinned 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 heldhis tongue. She probably wouldn't understand. But there was one thinghe'd better settle right now. "Now look here, young lady--" he began.
"I'm not a lady," Copper interrupted before he could continue. "Ladiesare human. I'm a Lani."
"All right," Kennon growled. "Lani or human, who cares? But do you haveto 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 inHalstead's sacred name did you get here?"
"I sleep next door," she said jerking a thumb in the direction of anopen door in the side wall. "I've been there ever since you dismissed melast night," she explained.
The explanation left Kennon cold. The old cliche about doing as theSantosians do flicked through his mind. Well, perhaps he would intime--but not yet. The habits of a lifetime couldn't be overturnedovernight. "Now you have awakened me," he said, "perhaps you'll get outof 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 beendressing 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 aLani before?"
"No."
"You poor man." Her voice was curiously pitying. "No one to make youfeel like the gods. No one to serve you. No one to even scrub yourback."
"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 highestcivilizations in the Brotherhood!"
"But you don't have Lani," she said patiently. "So you must beprimitive."
"Halstead, Fleming, and Ochsner!" Kennon swore. "Do you believe that?"
"Naturally, isn't it obvious? You can't possibly be civilized unless youtake responsibility for intelligent life other than your own race.Until you face up to your responsibilities you are merely a member of adominant race, not a civilized one."
Kennon's reply caught in his throat. His eyes widened as he looked ather, and what he was about to say remained unspoken. "Out of the mouthsof humanoids--" he muttered oddly.
"What does that mean?" Copper asked.
"Forget it," Kennon said wildly. "Leave me alone. Go put on someclothes. You embarrass me."
"I'll go," Copper said, "but you'll have to be embarrassed. Onlyhousehold Lani wear cloth." She frowned, two vertical furrows dividingher dark brows. "I've never understood why inhouse Lani have to bedisfigured that way, but I suppose there's some reason for it. Menseldom do anything without a reason."
Kennon shook his head. Either she was grossly ignorant, which hedoubted, or she was conditioned to the eyeballs.
The latter was more probable. But even that was doubtful. Her trenchantremark about civilization wasn't the product of a conditioned mind. Butwhy was he worrying about her attitudes? They weren't important--shewasn't even human. He shook his head. That was a sophistry. The factthat she wasn't human had nothing to do with the importance of herattitude. "I suppose there is a reason," he agreed. "But I don't knowit. I haven't been here long enough to know anything about such things."
She nodded. "That does make a difference," she admitted. "Many newmen are bothered at first by the fact that we Lani are naked, but theyadjust 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 wascomposed of equal parts of relief and exasperation as he slipped out ofbed and began to dress. He'd forgo the shower this morning. He had nodesire for Copper to appear and offer to scrub his back. In his presentstate 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 youthe operation." "When did he call?"
"About ten minutes ago. I told him that you were at breakfast. He saidhe'd wait." She disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
"There's a nightmare quality to this," Kennon muttered as he slipped hisarms into the sleeves of his tunic and closed the seam tabs. "I havethe feeling that I'm going to wake up any minute." He looked at hisreflection in the dresser mirror, and his reflection looked worriedlyback. "This whole thing has an air of plausible unreality: theadvertisement, the contract, this impossible island that raiseshumanoids as part of the livestock." He shrugged and his mirrored imageshrugged back. "But it's real, all right. No dream could possibly bethis detailed. I wonder how I'm going to take it for the next fiveyears? Probably not too well," he mused silently. "Already I'm talkingto myself. Without even trying, that Lani Copper can make me feel like aSarkian." He nodded at his image.
The Sarkian analogy was almost perfect, he decided. For on that grimlybackward world females were as close to slaves as the Brotherhood wouldpermit; raised from birth under an iron regimen designed to producecomplaisant mates for the dominant males. Probably that was the reasonSark was so backward. The men, having achieved domestic tranquillity,had no desire to do anything that would disturb the status quo. Andsince no Sarkian woman under any conceivable circumstances would annoyher lordly master with demands to produce better mousetraps, householdgadgetry, and more money, the technological development of Sark had cometo a virtual standstill. It took two sexes to develop a civilization.
Kennon shrugged. Worlds developed as they did because people were asthey were, and while passing judgment was still a major human pursuit,no native of one world had a right to force his customs down theunwilling throat of another. It would be better to accept his presentsituation and live with it rather than trying to impose his Betanconception of morality upon Lani that neither understood nor appreciatedit. His business was to treat and prevent animal disease. What happenedto the animals before infection or after recovery was none of hisaffair. That was a matter between Alexander and his conscience.
Blalok was waiting for him, sitting behind the wheel of a square boxyvehicle that squatted with an air of unpolished efficiency on thegraveled drive behind his house. He smiled a quick greeting as Kennonapproached. "It's about time you showed up," he said. "You'll have toget into the habit of rising early on this place. We do most of our workearly in the morning and late in the afternoon. During the day it's toohot to breathe, let alone work. Well, let's get going. There's stilltime to visit the outer stations."
K
ennon climbed in and Blalok started the vehicle. "I thought we'd take ajeep today," he said. "They aren't very pretty, but they get around." Heturned onto the surfaced road that ran down the hill toward the hospitaland the complex of red-roofed buildings clustered about it. "About thoseflukes," 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 workthan medicine involved in this."
"Detective work?"
"Sure--we know the criminal, but to squelch him we have to learn hishangouts, study his modus operandi, and learn how to make his victimssecure from his activities. Unless we do that, we can treat individualsfrom now to infinity and all we'll have is more cases. We have to applymodern criminology tactics--eliminate the source of crime--stop up thesoft 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 lastnight, and I saw nothing about trematodes, or anything that looked likea 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 originatedon Santos so far as we know. In fact, some people think that the Varlbred it for a weapon to use against us before we conquered them. Theycould have done it. Their biological science was of a high enoughorder."
"But how did it get here?"
"I wouldn't know--unless you've hired a Santosian or someone else whowas affected."
"We did have a man from Santos. Fellow called Joe Kryla. We had to lethim 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 wellseeded."
"That's not so good."
"Well, there's one thing in our favor. The Lani are pretty wellconcentrated into groups. And so far there doesn't seem to be anyinfestation outside of Hillside Station--except for two deaths in Lanirecently 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 capsulesat the hospital. If there aren't we'll get them. We'll take thesick ones back to the hospital area and push therapy and supportivetreatment. Now that we know the cause, we shouldn't have any more deathlosses."
"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 wardbuildings to finish training the Lani scheduled for market."
"Why?"
"It's convenient. Most of the ward space is filled right now." Blaloksaid. 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 morethan a training center. Perhaps Old Doc was trained in outcall work, butI'm not. I work from a hospital. The only things I do on outcalls arediagnoses, vaccinations, and emergencies. The rest of the patients cometo 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 waypossible. The patients are of more concern than the personal comfort ofany straw boss or administrator. You're the administrator--you calm themdown."
"You have the authority," Blalok admitted. "But my advice to you is togo 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 withTrematox and taking temperatures, and while that sort of thing isroutine, it should be supervised. Besides, you'll see the advantages ofthis method. Soon enough."
"I hope so," Blalok said as he braked the jeep to a stop in front of thehospital. "I suppose you'll want to take some things along."
"So I will," Kennon said. "I'll be back in a minute." Kennon slid fromthe seat, leaving Blalok looking peculiarly at his departing back.
The minute stretched to nearly ten before Kennon returned followed bytwo Lani carrying bags which they loaded into the back of the jeep."I had to reorganize a little," Kennon apologized, "some things wereunfamiliar."
"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 busymost of the day."
Blalok grunted and started the turbine. He moved a lever and the jeepfloated off the ground.
"An airboat too," Kennon remarked. "I wondered why this rig was soboxy."
"It's a multipurpose vehicle," Blalok said. "We need them around herefor fast transport. Most of the roads aren't so good." He engaged thedrive and the jeep began to move. "We'll go cross country," he said."Hillside's pretty far out--the farthest station since we abandonedOlympus."
The air began whistling past the boxlike body of the jeep as Blalokincreased 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 wasimpressed. The size of this operation was beginning to sink in. Ithadn't looked so big from the substratosphere in Alexander's ship, butdown here close to the ground it was enormous. Fields of grain, wideorchards, extensive gardens. Once they were forced to detour a hugesupply boat that rose heavily in front of them. Working in the fieldswere dozens of brown-skinned Lani who paused to look up and wave asthe jeep sped by. Occasional clusters of farm buildings and the lowbarrackslike 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, but wehave a few who are descendants of the crew of the first Alexander, andthere's one old codger who was actually with him during the conquest.Most of our stationmasters are family men. We feel that a wife andchildren add to a man's stability--and incidentally keep him fromfooling around with the Lani."
A series of fenced pastures containing hundreds of huge grayish-whitequadrupeds slipped past.
"Cattle?" Kennon asked.
"Yes--Earth strain. That's why they're so big. We also have sheep andswine, but you won't see them on this run."
"Any native animals?"
"A few--and some which are native to other worlds. But they'reluxury-trade items. The big sale items are beef, pork, and mutton."Blalok chuckled. "Did you think that the Lani were our principalexport?"
Kennon nodded.
"They're only a drop in the bucket. Agriculture--Earth-styleagriculture--is our main source of income. The Lani are valuableprincipally to keep down the cost of overhead. Virtually all of themwork right here on the island. We don't sell more than a hundred a yearless than five per cent of our total. And those are surplus--too lightor 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 morein space-train range. We can produce more cheaply than any competitor,and we can undersell any competition, even full automation." Blalokchuckled. "There are some things that a computer can't do as well asa human being, and one of them is farm the foods on which humanity isaccustomed to feed. A man'll pay two credits for a steak. He could get aChlorella substitute for half a credit, but he'll still buy the steakif he can afford it. Same thing goes for fruit, vegetables, grain, andgarden truck. Man's eating ha
bits have only changed from necessity.Those who can pay will still pay well for natural foods." Blalokchuckled. "We've put quite a dent in the algae and synthetics operationsin 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 thingfar 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 itdoes us no harm. We keep enough for servants--and the others would beinefficient for most farm work. So disposal by sale is a logical andprofitable way of culling. But now the Boss-man is being pressured intobreeding 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 thosefatheaded Brotherhood economists call our system economic slavery--andI'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'towned by their entrepreneurs. Sure, it's a tough haul to beat theboss, but it can be done. I did it, and others do it all the time. Thesituation isn't hopeless."
"But it is with the Lani," Kennon added.
"Of course. That's why they should be protected. What chance does aLani have? Without us they can't even keep going as a race. They'retechnological morons. They don't live long enough to understand moderncivilization. To turn those poor helpless humanoids out into humansociety would be criminal. It's our duty to protect them even whilewe're using them."
"Man's burden?' Kennon said, repeating the old cliche.
"Exactly." Blalok scowled. "I wish I had guts enough to give theBoss-man the facts--but I can't get nerve enough to try. I've a good jobhere--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 begandescending into the center of a spokelike mass of buildings radiatingoutward from a central hub.
"Hmm--big place," Kennon murmured.
"It should be," Blalok replied. "It furnishes all of our Lani forreplacement and export. It can turn out over a thousand a year atfull capacity. Of course we don't run at that rate, or Flora would beoverpopulated. But this is a big layout, like you said. It can maintaina 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 youfor the past half hour," he said. "Your office said you were on yourway.--Good to see you, too, Doc. I've been going over the records withHank Allworth--the stationmaster here." Jordan held out his hand.
"You're an Earthman, eh?" Kennon asked as he grasped the outstretchedhand. The gesture was as old as man, its ritualistic meaning lost inantiquity.
"No--Marsborn--a neighbor world," Jordan said. "But our customs andEarth's are the same."
"You're a long way from home," Kennon said.
"No farther than you, Doc." Jordan looked uncomfortable. "But we cancompare origins later. Right now, you'd better come into the office.I've run across something peculiar."
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