The Lani People, Jesse F. Bone [best reads TXT] 📗

“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