Three Classic SF Novels: Plague Ship; Operation Terror; The Lani People

by Andre Norton, Murray Leinster, J. F. Bone

  “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 sup
posed 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.