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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

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